Disclaimer: Same as always. Don't own them.
Chapter Two: Of stories and orcs
His blond hair swirled around as Legolas stamped his foot down and clapped his hair in tradition with the Gondorian farming dance. His face was alight with happiness as he then linked arms with a pretty young Gondorian girl and they spun around before weaving their way through the other pairs.
Legolas' cheeks were golden as he danced and clapped. Normally a fairly shy creature, Legolas took the greatest enjoyment in the finer arts.
He excelled in music, dancing, singing, archery and fencing. And if you had approached him about most other things, he would be quiet and reserved, occasionally offering a comment, but when you got Legolas on his own and suggested something such as:
"Those wargs, god they were hard to fight!"
Then Legolas was confident, charming, witty and made great conversation.
"Ai, even with an arrow in their ribs they still carried on running!" Legolas laughed. "And heavy enough to squash a dwarf."
"I would guess it takes a lot to squash a dwarf!" the nobleman said with a beam.
"Indeed it does."
"And you would know that." A different voice joined the conversation and Legolas looked up at his father.
Even amongst elves, Thranduil was still tall. Nearly seven foot, the King was willowy and slender, but beneath his might robes of his office, lurked muscle. His eyes were lighter than that of his son and they were cold as a bitter winter morning. The sun shone, but they were freezing to be held in.
His hair was the colour of a winter sun. Pale yet still bright.
"Milord," the Gondorian said respectfully and bowed his head.
"Sir," Thranduil replied. "If you could excuse me and my son." The words were blunt enough to make the Gondorian leave the conversation behind with a brief nod and walk away.
"Walk with me Legolas," the Silvan elf said, directing his son towards one corner.
There was a balcony that jutted out of the main hall and over the courtyard that was surprisingly empty. It was normally filled with traders and merchants arguing over the prices of metals imported from the dwarven kingdoms.
"I saw you dancing with that man," Thranduil said coldly.
"Yes," Legolas said timidly. He greatly feared his father as much as he admired him. Thranduil was a terrifying leader, but a brilliant one at that.
He was wise and had a nimble mind that grasped situations quickly. Maybe too quickly. Some called him foolhardy, but then they dismissed it because he was the son of Oropher and that wood-elves were known as reckless elves. Thranduil was a brilliant speechwriter, and had a voice that could be heard over the din of battle with the greatest of ease. His words could stir emotion into even the coldest heart and he had swayed many a mind.
But the son of Oropher easily blamed people and because of that, he had a reputation of somewhat a tyrant. He slaughtered the guards of his own wife when they reported that she had been killed. Thranduil ignored the fact that the Queen had run off, ordering the guards not to follow her, but instead charged them with incompetence.
They were beheaded the next day in full view of the Council and the rest of the Mirkwood elves.
Part of his anger was due to the fact that he had such a close bond with his wife. He loved her so deeply and dearly that it nearly drove him insane when she was summonsed to the Halls of Mandos. All his love then went into his son who Thranduil wanted to give the best upbringing possible.
Legolas was taught by only the most skilled of elves, was allowed to make friends with only the children of the highest members of the council and was only allowed to socialise with only the noblest of elven maidens.
When Thranduil had seen that his son was not interested at all with even the most beautiful elf maiden that middle-earth had to offer (Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar amongst the elves), he tried with even more vigour. He held balls regularly and invited all the richest families that the elves boasted.
None captured the eye of Legolas though.
"I want you to stay away from him," Thranduil said. "I do not want a repeat of what nearly happened last time..."
Until a son of Rohan was passing through Mirkwood. The nephew of the King of the Golden Hall - Edoras- was returning from Arnor when he stopped by in the lands.
The man was a handsome youth. Tanned skin from days travelling, golden curls and a devil-may-care lopsided grin that made Legolas fall head over heels in love with him.
The man only stayed one week when he also became besotted with the elven prince.
Their relationship was kept secret to Thranduil all that time until, while perching up on a tree kissing and fondling each other the King had wandered into the woods and had spotted them.
The man fled immediately leaving behind a sorrowful and much chastened Legolas.
Thranduil from then on took much care over his son. The lavish celebrations stopped until they were only the basic ones that were yearly celebrated. And the King hoped that he could sway his son's preference to a suitable maiden whom he could marry and raise an heir with.
No such luck.
Legolas became quiet and rarely spoke to anyone of the female persuasion. His relationship with Thranduil was remarkably undamaged. The two were still very close and Legolas looked upon the incident nowadays with a chuckle about his naivety in his youth.
"Father!" Legolas protested, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "We're just friends."
"That's what you said about that Roherrim man," Thranduil said with a grimace.
"Ada, I promise to you," Legolas said with a beseeching smile towards his elder. "I will remain nothing but a friend to the man. And he has a name you know: Eldarion. Please could you use it?"
When the prince's deep blue eyes that reminded the King so much of his wife, were looking at him so imploringly, he could not resist it and smiled fondly. "I will try," he said.
"Thank you Ada," Legolas said reverting back to the common tongue.
Thranduil briefly hugged his son and stood back with a proud gaze. "Pack your bags Legolas, we leave in the morning."
Thranduil strode off the balcony with a swirl of his long robes and was gone back into the sea of bodies and music.
~
Legolas was staring out at the sunset when he heard a soft voice in his ear. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts, and marvelling at the natural beauty, that he had not heard the man approach.
The elf spun around and gave a smile when he saw Eldarion looking at him oddly.
Eldarion's mouth opened and closed several times before finally he resolved what to say. "I didn't know I was your friend," he said quietly, almost shyly.
"Any friend of your father's is a friend of mine," Legolas said. His pale skin was touched golden by the sunlight and his eyes seemed to sparkle like sapphires.
"Who was the man of the Roherrim you were talking about?" Eldarion asked with an impish smile.
Legolas' cheeks felt hot and he turned away. But he knew he had not done so quick enough from Eldarion's amused laugh.
"No one of any significance." As Legolas said this, he immediately regretted it and felt guilty.
Eldarion watched as the prince's hand toyed at something around his pale neck.
"What is that?" he asked.
"My good luck charms." Legolas pulled something out from under his tunic.
One a simple leather thong hung a tooth. It was large and curved, but the end looked blunt. It was surprisingly white for an animal tooth and a hole was gorged in it where the leather went through.
"From the first warg I killed," Legolas revealed and rubbed it idly.
Also hanging from that was a ring.
"My mother's." Legolas slipped the thong off from around his head and untied it deftly with long, ivory fingers. He slid the ring off and held it in the palm of his hand before offering it to Eldarion.
"Its beautiful," the man whispered as he gently fingered it. The ring was obviously that of a woman's, small and thin. It was made from a chunk of emerald that was skillfully cut into a ring shape and studded in the middle was a white precious stone that was the shape of a flower.
"A snowdrop. She gave it to me before she died," the elf whispered and looked at the sunset with shining eyes. "She said it was handed down throughout her family for generations from father to daughter and daughter to son.... I have to continue this by giving it to my daughter."
Eldarion patted his shoulder and stood next to the elf, still fingering the ring.
"I would love to be a father with all my heart...." Legolas said turning to look at the man with eyes that was filled with tears. "But I do not think I will ever..."
"Nonsense!" Eldarion protested. He studied the wood-elf's portrait in the golden light. How could some fair maiden refuse him? Legolas seemed so perfect... so pure and gentle in his thoughts. So gentlemanly in his actions and ways. He was quiet, but he opened up to people on common territory. "You will find some young elf with beauty to rival the fair Tinúviel's and you will be wed and you will have a beautiful child!" Eldarion cried confidently.
Legolas' rosebud lips opened as if he desired to say something. But then he shut them again.
"Where you going to say something?" Eldarion asked, knowing instinctively that only be friendly prodding would he find out what was on Legolas' mind.
Legolas opened his lips again and turned back to the man and started to say something when....
"Legolas! Thank the Valar!" Elessar the Elfstone panted as he ran onto the balcony. Shortly behind him was a crowd of nearly ten Gondorian noble's children. They were dressed smartly in velvet tunics for the boys and velvet dresses for the girls, but already they were messed up with mud and one small boy had some leaves in his hair. "Please will you help me?" the King begged.
Legolas looked at his friend, clearly amused.
"Please sir, will you tell us a story?" a girl whined as she tugged at the ex-ranger's cloak.
Aragorn closed his eyes briefly before looking at Legolas beseechingly.
"We know you know stories," another boy said, his chubby hands on his waist in a business like manner. Eldarion chuckled and crossed his arms.
"Legolas, please help me," Estel hissed. "I can't tell stories... ask Eldarion!"
The son nodded in agreement. "He couldn't if it was the only thing that would save the world."
The father shot his son an annoyed look. "I value your opinion Eldarion," he replied. "But I also value my self-respect."
"Okay," Legolas interrupted. "Come on children."
He took the first two by the hand and led them back into the hall. They gazed up in childish wonder at the golden haired beauty leading them with such a patient hand.
"Come on," he said softly when he noticed one had stopped and was just staring at him.
The girl turned around and whispered to Eldarion: "My mother's told me about angels, the prettiest beings that look after you. Is he one?"
Legolas blushed when Eldarion met his deep blue eyes and answered: "He must be."
The elf quickly swung his head around, the gold strands whipping ito his face lightly and hiding his glowing cheeks before gesturing for the child to come and then walking them out into the gardens.
King Elessar frowned at the dazed expression on his son's face. Prince Eldarion was looking in the direction that Legolas had left in, with misty eyes and a goofy smile.
'Must be that age' he thought with a sigh and wandering back in to see how his wife was. 'I don't remember acting like that...'
~
The elves left Gondor the next day and the last glimpse Eldarion had of the fair prince was that of his golden hair streaming out like the silken pennants that the wood-elves carried.
He was immistakable from his shining hair and pure white stead with silver mane. The horses hooves pounded in front of every one else. Legolas seemed to wish privacy from the rest of his kin.
Eldarion sighed as the horse carried his master over a hill and out of sight.
~
Nikerym (captain) Kiran stiffled a most un-elf like yawn and fixed his eyes back onto the horizon.
Mirkwood was eerily silent.
The King and the other delegates for Greenwood had returned back two days ago. There had been a truimphant reception waiting for them. A messenger had been sent before the celebrations after the alliance and the remainder of the council had been overjoyed.
They knew their King's plan that the alliance was purely for Mirkwood's defence, but still they were overjoyed that they could rest safe.
Kiran was patrolling on the southern most reaches of Mirkwood and had been for nearly a week. Then he would be returning back to the baracks and training for a week before being sent somewhere else. He had the keenest eyes of all the wood-elves and was an invaluble guard.
Mirkwood had been empty. Trekking down to his position, he had passed near Dol Guldhur, but he had encountered no fell beasts that normally lurked beneath the twisted boughs of the trees.
All the other guards were equally tense. The silence was most unnatural and to them it was alike to the great silence before a storm. It was an omen: something was going to happen.
On the horizon he saw a flock of birds hurridely rising into flight. They were cawing noisily at something.
Kiran fumbled quickly at the whistle at his throat and raised it to his mouth before blowing it.
Within seconds everyone in Mirkwood was alerted that something was heading this way.
Within minutes Kiran was joined by another guard who was patrolling nearby. "What is it Nikerym?" he asked after bowing dutifully to his superior.
"Something has stirred those birds into flight," he responded. Kiran's finger pointed at the still circling birds. "And I do not wish to wait to find out."
He blew swiftly on the whistle three more times. Within seconds everyone was preparing themselves for a fight. Male elves were buckling on armour alongside the females. In Mirkwood everyone fought.
"Only orcs cause birds such fright," Kiran said.
"Or men," the other guard offered.
"Nay. Why would men come to our borders? The Roherrim are scared by us and the Gondorrim should be safe in their homes."
Then Kiran's prediction was proved correct when over the brink of the hill he saw the first of their attackers.
Orcs.
"Yrch!" he cried and blowed again on his whistle.
There was the crashing of horsehooves through the undergrowth and the guards moved in time for standing where they were previously, was two mighty steads.
King Thranduil and Prince Legolas sat on their white horses and scanned the horizon. "By the blood of my ancestors," Thranduil murmured.
He recognised these orcs.
Orcs, partly due to their elven heritage, can live many hundred years. This meant that in theory, the orcs that slayed Thranduil's wife, could be the same orcs that were now marching towards Mirkwood.
And they were.
Thranduil tossed back his head and let a mighty battle cry: "Gurth gothrimlye!" (Death to our foes)
Then spurring his horse, he charged forward to meet the enemy.
Legolas watched his father go forward with a sigh. He too recognised the orc, but he was less hasty because revenge had not overcome him. He waited until the rest of the calvary had caught up before charging forward.
Chapter Two: Of stories and orcs
His blond hair swirled around as Legolas stamped his foot down and clapped his hair in tradition with the Gondorian farming dance. His face was alight with happiness as he then linked arms with a pretty young Gondorian girl and they spun around before weaving their way through the other pairs.
Legolas' cheeks were golden as he danced and clapped. Normally a fairly shy creature, Legolas took the greatest enjoyment in the finer arts.
He excelled in music, dancing, singing, archery and fencing. And if you had approached him about most other things, he would be quiet and reserved, occasionally offering a comment, but when you got Legolas on his own and suggested something such as:
"Those wargs, god they were hard to fight!"
Then Legolas was confident, charming, witty and made great conversation.
"Ai, even with an arrow in their ribs they still carried on running!" Legolas laughed. "And heavy enough to squash a dwarf."
"I would guess it takes a lot to squash a dwarf!" the nobleman said with a beam.
"Indeed it does."
"And you would know that." A different voice joined the conversation and Legolas looked up at his father.
Even amongst elves, Thranduil was still tall. Nearly seven foot, the King was willowy and slender, but beneath his might robes of his office, lurked muscle. His eyes were lighter than that of his son and they were cold as a bitter winter morning. The sun shone, but they were freezing to be held in.
His hair was the colour of a winter sun. Pale yet still bright.
"Milord," the Gondorian said respectfully and bowed his head.
"Sir," Thranduil replied. "If you could excuse me and my son." The words were blunt enough to make the Gondorian leave the conversation behind with a brief nod and walk away.
"Walk with me Legolas," the Silvan elf said, directing his son towards one corner.
There was a balcony that jutted out of the main hall and over the courtyard that was surprisingly empty. It was normally filled with traders and merchants arguing over the prices of metals imported from the dwarven kingdoms.
"I saw you dancing with that man," Thranduil said coldly.
"Yes," Legolas said timidly. He greatly feared his father as much as he admired him. Thranduil was a terrifying leader, but a brilliant one at that.
He was wise and had a nimble mind that grasped situations quickly. Maybe too quickly. Some called him foolhardy, but then they dismissed it because he was the son of Oropher and that wood-elves were known as reckless elves. Thranduil was a brilliant speechwriter, and had a voice that could be heard over the din of battle with the greatest of ease. His words could stir emotion into even the coldest heart and he had swayed many a mind.
But the son of Oropher easily blamed people and because of that, he had a reputation of somewhat a tyrant. He slaughtered the guards of his own wife when they reported that she had been killed. Thranduil ignored the fact that the Queen had run off, ordering the guards not to follow her, but instead charged them with incompetence.
They were beheaded the next day in full view of the Council and the rest of the Mirkwood elves.
Part of his anger was due to the fact that he had such a close bond with his wife. He loved her so deeply and dearly that it nearly drove him insane when she was summonsed to the Halls of Mandos. All his love then went into his son who Thranduil wanted to give the best upbringing possible.
Legolas was taught by only the most skilled of elves, was allowed to make friends with only the children of the highest members of the council and was only allowed to socialise with only the noblest of elven maidens.
When Thranduil had seen that his son was not interested at all with even the most beautiful elf maiden that middle-earth had to offer (Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar amongst the elves), he tried with even more vigour. He held balls regularly and invited all the richest families that the elves boasted.
None captured the eye of Legolas though.
"I want you to stay away from him," Thranduil said. "I do not want a repeat of what nearly happened last time..."
Until a son of Rohan was passing through Mirkwood. The nephew of the King of the Golden Hall - Edoras- was returning from Arnor when he stopped by in the lands.
The man was a handsome youth. Tanned skin from days travelling, golden curls and a devil-may-care lopsided grin that made Legolas fall head over heels in love with him.
The man only stayed one week when he also became besotted with the elven prince.
Their relationship was kept secret to Thranduil all that time until, while perching up on a tree kissing and fondling each other the King had wandered into the woods and had spotted them.
The man fled immediately leaving behind a sorrowful and much chastened Legolas.
Thranduil from then on took much care over his son. The lavish celebrations stopped until they were only the basic ones that were yearly celebrated. And the King hoped that he could sway his son's preference to a suitable maiden whom he could marry and raise an heir with.
No such luck.
Legolas became quiet and rarely spoke to anyone of the female persuasion. His relationship with Thranduil was remarkably undamaged. The two were still very close and Legolas looked upon the incident nowadays with a chuckle about his naivety in his youth.
"Father!" Legolas protested, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "We're just friends."
"That's what you said about that Roherrim man," Thranduil said with a grimace.
"Ada, I promise to you," Legolas said with a beseeching smile towards his elder. "I will remain nothing but a friend to the man. And he has a name you know: Eldarion. Please could you use it?"
When the prince's deep blue eyes that reminded the King so much of his wife, were looking at him so imploringly, he could not resist it and smiled fondly. "I will try," he said.
"Thank you Ada," Legolas said reverting back to the common tongue.
Thranduil briefly hugged his son and stood back with a proud gaze. "Pack your bags Legolas, we leave in the morning."
Thranduil strode off the balcony with a swirl of his long robes and was gone back into the sea of bodies and music.
~
Legolas was staring out at the sunset when he heard a soft voice in his ear. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts, and marvelling at the natural beauty, that he had not heard the man approach.
The elf spun around and gave a smile when he saw Eldarion looking at him oddly.
Eldarion's mouth opened and closed several times before finally he resolved what to say. "I didn't know I was your friend," he said quietly, almost shyly.
"Any friend of your father's is a friend of mine," Legolas said. His pale skin was touched golden by the sunlight and his eyes seemed to sparkle like sapphires.
"Who was the man of the Roherrim you were talking about?" Eldarion asked with an impish smile.
Legolas' cheeks felt hot and he turned away. But he knew he had not done so quick enough from Eldarion's amused laugh.
"No one of any significance." As Legolas said this, he immediately regretted it and felt guilty.
Eldarion watched as the prince's hand toyed at something around his pale neck.
"What is that?" he asked.
"My good luck charms." Legolas pulled something out from under his tunic.
One a simple leather thong hung a tooth. It was large and curved, but the end looked blunt. It was surprisingly white for an animal tooth and a hole was gorged in it where the leather went through.
"From the first warg I killed," Legolas revealed and rubbed it idly.
Also hanging from that was a ring.
"My mother's." Legolas slipped the thong off from around his head and untied it deftly with long, ivory fingers. He slid the ring off and held it in the palm of his hand before offering it to Eldarion.
"Its beautiful," the man whispered as he gently fingered it. The ring was obviously that of a woman's, small and thin. It was made from a chunk of emerald that was skillfully cut into a ring shape and studded in the middle was a white precious stone that was the shape of a flower.
"A snowdrop. She gave it to me before she died," the elf whispered and looked at the sunset with shining eyes. "She said it was handed down throughout her family for generations from father to daughter and daughter to son.... I have to continue this by giving it to my daughter."
Eldarion patted his shoulder and stood next to the elf, still fingering the ring.
"I would love to be a father with all my heart...." Legolas said turning to look at the man with eyes that was filled with tears. "But I do not think I will ever..."
"Nonsense!" Eldarion protested. He studied the wood-elf's portrait in the golden light. How could some fair maiden refuse him? Legolas seemed so perfect... so pure and gentle in his thoughts. So gentlemanly in his actions and ways. He was quiet, but he opened up to people on common territory. "You will find some young elf with beauty to rival the fair Tinúviel's and you will be wed and you will have a beautiful child!" Eldarion cried confidently.
Legolas' rosebud lips opened as if he desired to say something. But then he shut them again.
"Where you going to say something?" Eldarion asked, knowing instinctively that only be friendly prodding would he find out what was on Legolas' mind.
Legolas opened his lips again and turned back to the man and started to say something when....
"Legolas! Thank the Valar!" Elessar the Elfstone panted as he ran onto the balcony. Shortly behind him was a crowd of nearly ten Gondorian noble's children. They were dressed smartly in velvet tunics for the boys and velvet dresses for the girls, but already they were messed up with mud and one small boy had some leaves in his hair. "Please will you help me?" the King begged.
Legolas looked at his friend, clearly amused.
"Please sir, will you tell us a story?" a girl whined as she tugged at the ex-ranger's cloak.
Aragorn closed his eyes briefly before looking at Legolas beseechingly.
"We know you know stories," another boy said, his chubby hands on his waist in a business like manner. Eldarion chuckled and crossed his arms.
"Legolas, please help me," Estel hissed. "I can't tell stories... ask Eldarion!"
The son nodded in agreement. "He couldn't if it was the only thing that would save the world."
The father shot his son an annoyed look. "I value your opinion Eldarion," he replied. "But I also value my self-respect."
"Okay," Legolas interrupted. "Come on children."
He took the first two by the hand and led them back into the hall. They gazed up in childish wonder at the golden haired beauty leading them with such a patient hand.
"Come on," he said softly when he noticed one had stopped and was just staring at him.
The girl turned around and whispered to Eldarion: "My mother's told me about angels, the prettiest beings that look after you. Is he one?"
Legolas blushed when Eldarion met his deep blue eyes and answered: "He must be."
The elf quickly swung his head around, the gold strands whipping ito his face lightly and hiding his glowing cheeks before gesturing for the child to come and then walking them out into the gardens.
King Elessar frowned at the dazed expression on his son's face. Prince Eldarion was looking in the direction that Legolas had left in, with misty eyes and a goofy smile.
'Must be that age' he thought with a sigh and wandering back in to see how his wife was. 'I don't remember acting like that...'
~
The elves left Gondor the next day and the last glimpse Eldarion had of the fair prince was that of his golden hair streaming out like the silken pennants that the wood-elves carried.
He was immistakable from his shining hair and pure white stead with silver mane. The horses hooves pounded in front of every one else. Legolas seemed to wish privacy from the rest of his kin.
Eldarion sighed as the horse carried his master over a hill and out of sight.
~
Nikerym (captain) Kiran stiffled a most un-elf like yawn and fixed his eyes back onto the horizon.
Mirkwood was eerily silent.
The King and the other delegates for Greenwood had returned back two days ago. There had been a truimphant reception waiting for them. A messenger had been sent before the celebrations after the alliance and the remainder of the council had been overjoyed.
They knew their King's plan that the alliance was purely for Mirkwood's defence, but still they were overjoyed that they could rest safe.
Kiran was patrolling on the southern most reaches of Mirkwood and had been for nearly a week. Then he would be returning back to the baracks and training for a week before being sent somewhere else. He had the keenest eyes of all the wood-elves and was an invaluble guard.
Mirkwood had been empty. Trekking down to his position, he had passed near Dol Guldhur, but he had encountered no fell beasts that normally lurked beneath the twisted boughs of the trees.
All the other guards were equally tense. The silence was most unnatural and to them it was alike to the great silence before a storm. It was an omen: something was going to happen.
On the horizon he saw a flock of birds hurridely rising into flight. They were cawing noisily at something.
Kiran fumbled quickly at the whistle at his throat and raised it to his mouth before blowing it.
Within seconds everyone in Mirkwood was alerted that something was heading this way.
Within minutes Kiran was joined by another guard who was patrolling nearby. "What is it Nikerym?" he asked after bowing dutifully to his superior.
"Something has stirred those birds into flight," he responded. Kiran's finger pointed at the still circling birds. "And I do not wish to wait to find out."
He blew swiftly on the whistle three more times. Within seconds everyone was preparing themselves for a fight. Male elves were buckling on armour alongside the females. In Mirkwood everyone fought.
"Only orcs cause birds such fright," Kiran said.
"Or men," the other guard offered.
"Nay. Why would men come to our borders? The Roherrim are scared by us and the Gondorrim should be safe in their homes."
Then Kiran's prediction was proved correct when over the brink of the hill he saw the first of their attackers.
Orcs.
"Yrch!" he cried and blowed again on his whistle.
There was the crashing of horsehooves through the undergrowth and the guards moved in time for standing where they were previously, was two mighty steads.
King Thranduil and Prince Legolas sat on their white horses and scanned the horizon. "By the blood of my ancestors," Thranduil murmured.
He recognised these orcs.
Orcs, partly due to their elven heritage, can live many hundred years. This meant that in theory, the orcs that slayed Thranduil's wife, could be the same orcs that were now marching towards Mirkwood.
And they were.
Thranduil tossed back his head and let a mighty battle cry: "Gurth gothrimlye!" (Death to our foes)
Then spurring his horse, he charged forward to meet the enemy.
Legolas watched his father go forward with a sigh. He too recognised the orc, but he was less hasty because revenge had not overcome him. He waited until the rest of the calvary had caught up before charging forward.
