A/N: Thank you very much for bearing with me- you guys are awesome! A
special thanks to Willow who has been a great help with this and of course
to Lady of Legolas.
Chapter Seven: the Leave Taking
Legolas could not believe his eyes when he finally drew close to the borders of Mirkwood.
From beneath the boughs of the trees, he watched as a procession made their way out.
The elves were clad in silver satins and silks, the materials moving with their sinewy frames as they danced and sang. The music was as sweet as honey, rippling through the landscape. It was a bittersweet tune. In it they mourned the loss of their beautiful lands with the low keening notes, but then they sang with joy at the prospect of finally going to Valinor with the higher and brighter notes.
He watched as a velvet-covered board scattered with Niphredil petals carried out the body of his mother.
Her features were like that of an ice statue, unmoving and beautifully strong, but also at the same time extremely fragile. One movement could break them.
She was carried by four elves, clad in the same silver grey. They held each corner of the board up, their heads lowered as they wept.
Behind their path came a dancing maiden, her fair hair toyed with by the playful breeze. On her arm was a basket, and she threw flower petals on the floor after the tracks of the first elves.
Next came the King's guard, who were most skilled in the art of war and fighting. Their mail was shining, and they held proudly in their hands their instruments of death. The bows were agleam and the scimitars, long knives and lances were polished until they were blindingly bright.
They walked in front of their King, heads held high. They did not sing, but in their eyes, Legolas could see the same happiness and sadness.
Thranduil was seated on the white steed that had been bred from the same family of horses that bore the Kings of the woodland realm always. His hair had been combed, and upon his brow was an emerald, as brilliantly green as the leaves of the Greenwood had once been.
Legolas saw immediately in his father what his people revered: the strong will of a King and his wisdom were arrayed about him like a mantle. Yet they also saw the kindness he had, for in one hand was held a single Niphredil flower.
"Ada" he called softly, and began to walk forward.
Thranduil turned to see his son walk towards him and dismounted, his arms open wide.
"Legolas," he said, and hugged his son tightly.
"Father, no!" Legolas said frantically, trying to get away. "You can't go now! No.... you said that you wouldn't leave Mirkwood."
"I was wrong Legolas. Our time on Middle-earth, Mirkwood, is up. Men do not need the elves and the elves do not need the men. We are taking the ship to Valinor. Every single wood-elf has come. They all hear the call of the Sea and it is too strong to resist," Thranduil said sadly.
"Men do need us!" Legolas protested. "They need us father, to help defend Middle-earth." The words were true and heartfelt, but he could hear how childish and simple they sounded to Thranduil's ears, and he winced.
"What difference will a thousand elves make to the mighty Gondor?" The King asked with a laugh.
"Some difference. Some will is driving these orcs. They are cunning. They attack all the borders at the same time. We must help them before Mirkwood falls. I know that nothing I say will stop you from leaving to Valinor, but hearken to me when I ask you this: Could you bear to see our once beautiful woods fall? The trees that we lived in and climbed in when we were but elflings, burnt and fallen. I know for sure that I will feel that pain. And I also know for sure that you all will as well!" Legolas voice was raised and now he spoke to everyone else.
There were a couple of murmurs of agreement, but mainly of disagreement.
"When have the men ever aided us? Where were they when Mirkwood was attacked? Where were they when Dol Guldur was built? Safe in their homes, that's where they were!" Thranduil cried triumphantly. He mounted his horse again and signalled for the singers to start again.
The party continued moving, and Thranduil trotted past his son.
"That's the problem with the elves. You always expect something in return for something that you never did!" Legolas shouted after them. He was trembling slightly as adrenaline started to flow through his veins. He did not know why, but it was thrilling.
"You yourself told me that father! You told me that politics was not about winning or gaining. I realise the truth of your words now, father. You cannot win something you never started. We will never win anything, even if we do take-up arms and fight, except the fact that we know that Middle- earth is good and not overridden with orcs. But if we do not fight, we may loose the men that need our help to succeed. We may loose Middle-earth."
Legolas saw that his father was not listening to him, as his back was turned. Thranduil sat proudly and stiffly upon the horse.
"It is him isn't it?!" Thranduil suddenly hissed.
"What?"
"Prince Eldarion. You've been dallying with that man!" the King said. His eyes were wild and he knew that this argument was won.
"I have not!" Legolas denied, but he felt his cheeks becoming hot and heard the amused titters from the elves.
"I can tell by the way that you blush," Thranduil laughed; he seemed to be enjoying publicly humiliating his son.
In the crowd of elves, some were cringing under the King's verbal assault, as they felt sorry for Legolas. But most of them were laughing or smiling along with him.
"You're just worried that your precious prince may not survive, so you want my, yes, MY fighters to risk their lives"-
"It's not like that!" Legolas argued.
"Yes, it is," the wood-elf said mockingly and turned back around.
The procession carried on and Legolas stood there, watching his father's retreating back until all the elves were gone from Mirkwood and only he remained. Then he walked in their wake.
"May the Valar protect him," he prayed softly as he walked.
The farmers stopped and stared as the elves proceeded through the lands. Their faces were alight and to the humble, working class people who had never seen elves before; they seemed to come straight out of myth.
Their hearts were aggrieved indeed at knowing that never again would they see the fair wood-elves or hear their entrancing song. At the back of the procession walked one elf fairer than all the others.
His golden hair and luminous skin was breath taking to behold, and even in his misery, he was beautiful.
The elves walked to the Grey Havens, and there waiting for them were fifty tall grey ships with soaring masts. The elves that lived in the Havens had been working over many years in producing these ships, as Thranduil had foreseen the wood-elves' departure.
Fifty ships sailed out over the moonlit seas that night. Forty-nine of them were never seen again.
Thus passed the elves out of Middle-earth and of most of them, nothing is said of in tale and legend. However one remains in the history of Gondor. Of him more shall be told.
~
"Legolas, awaken," a soft voice called to him.
With bleary eyes, the prince sat up and looked at the man sat in front of him with loving affection. "Eldarion," he said and gently kissed his lover. "How are you?" he asked.
"Fine."
The man nestled against Legolas' chest and the wood-elf stroked his silky hair. The room was warm and friendly. The plush sheets, made from some luxurious material, were smooth against his skin. The man sleeping against him was beautiful in face and spirit.
Suddenly all around Legolas blurred and no longer was he resting against the headboard, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
In front of him was a pale Eldarion, his eyes blurry with sleep.
Déjà vu washed over Legolas and he remembered that time. Eldarion suddenly buried his head in his covers, a blush coating his cheekbones.
"Eldarion," he found himself saying. "What happened last night...."
This was a dream.... this must be a dream! Why was he remembering this?
"It was a mistake. Lovely, but a mistake," Legolas said.
Then again the air around him blurred, and suddenly Legolas felt hot air surrounding him. It was so hot.... so very hot.
He wanted to rip the armour that was on him off, but some instinct in him knew that it was the only thing that would protect him.
'Legolas Greenleaf' a voice whispered inside his head. It was a woman's voice, deep and melodious. 'You know your fate. Why do you give in so easily?'
It was slightly mocking and made Legolas grip the hilt of his white knives even tighter.
Beneath him he felt the ground get hotter. Looking down he saw ice.
Then he heard a shriek. Legolas spun around, his knives at the ready. What he saw made him gasp and try to run forward. But he could not. His feet were rooted to the ground.
A horde of gibbering orcs were chasing after a young girl who was desperately trying to escape them by skating down the river. She had no skates on, though, and was sliding and slipping. Her brown eyes were open with shock, and she saw Legolas. The girl smiled slightly, and it was as if she slowed down, for the orcs caught up with her.
"Lina!" Legolas cried. It was the girl that he had skated with.
Lina smiled again she fell to the ground.
The orcs surrounded her and Legolas saw that on their shields was not an emblem of a curved fang as Eldarion had thought, but a crude tongue of fire curving upwards.
Then the orcs and Lina disappeared.
'You know what your heart desires, why do you deny it?' the woman asked.
An image of Eldarion flashed through his mind.
In his hand was a letter with writing on it that Legolas recognised as his own. He took the letter from the man and started reading it. It said that he was leaving.
Eldarion started to cry before fading out.
'No! He can't possibly....' Legolas refused to admit it. How could this man..... love him? He had told Eldarion bluntly that he did not wish anything else to happen.
'He loves you, prince,' the voice said tauntingly. 'Go back to him now and tell him that you love him also.'
'But'-
'You know you do.... the thing that Imrahil spoke of. The thing that is making you remain in Middle-earth is.....' the voice trailed off.
"Eldarion," Legolas whispered. "Eldarion! Eldarion!" he cried as he realised the truth. "Oh Eldarion my love, I will return to you!"
But then the air around him grew even hotter and Legolas felt the ice melting. The ice finally turned into water and Legolas fell into the river.
It was cold, bitingly cold. He felt he couldn't move, and then he saw the eyes. They transfixed him. Two large almond shaped eyes, filled with cruel intelligence and the wisdom of centuries.
It lowered his head and-
"No!" Legolas said up with a cry.
The dream had vanished into the night from which it had come. He looked around frantically. He was still on the boat. Surrounding him was elves, gradually stirring and looking around for a danger.
At the front of the ship was a tall elf manning the helm. "Turn back," Legolas said with a deep breath.
The elf instinctively turned around. "Pardon?" he asked.
"Turn back." Legolas repeated the order coolly.
"Legolas, what are you doing?" Thranduil said.
Legolas turned towards his father with a slight smile. "I'm returning. Turn the ship back."
The elf turned between his King and his Prince. "Ignore him," Thranduil said. "You are not returning to Middle-earth. Not to that man."
"You say the word as if it is something poisonous," Legolas observed. "I've met men and dwarves that have been nicer towards me than most elves."
Thranduil gasped. Marching forwards, he slapped his son hard on the cheek.
Legolas stood level, his eyes cold and determined. He did nothing to retaliate.
"I am not leaving Middle-earth to be destroyed. Orcs are not as stupid as you would believe. They will find some way to cross the seas, and then nothing and no one will stop to help you as you stoop to rebuild your lives," Legolas said. "Hearken to me all of you!" he turned to the rest of the elves on the ship. "How many of you here do not wish with all of your hearts to go to Valinor? How many of you still wish to travel the world? How many of you still wish to run beneath the boughs of Mirkwood, Fangorn and Lorien?"
"Nonsense!" the King cried.
"He speaks the truth," one elf said and stood beside Legolas. "I was disowned by my family when I told them that I fell in love with a mortal woman. They told me that if I came with them, then they would forgive my wrongs. My wife is now left in Middle-earth with a child- my child!!" the elf said.
"Thank you Alad," Legolas said with a nod towards the archery master. "Any more of you?"
"I too," a female elf stood forward. "I may not be able to wield a sword, but I have some skill with the bow." She had a reckless smile and bold courage that Legolas admired.
Several more stepped forward before Thranduil clenched his fists tightly. "Bind his mouth!" he cried. "So that he cannot bewitch any more ears with his fanciful tales."
"I do not ask for you to remain in Middle-earth for ever, even I do not wish that. But if this war is finished then I believe that we could make a home in Ithilien," Legolas said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke of the woods which he had enjoyed so much. "Tis a beautiful land and on the mouth of the Anduin. Who will come with me and make sure that the elves are known in the history of the Fourth Age?"
More came forward and Thranduil grew more frantic, for soon more elves were with Legolas than against.
"Legolas, I care only for you and your heart," the King said, opting for another tactic. "I do not wish for you to be hurt. I know that you care greatly for the man, but men are fickle in their desires, and your love may be short-lived."
Thranduil was cunning in his words, appealing to Legolas' doubts and worries. But part of his words came from true concern. He did care for his son immensely, but he hated it when people went against his judgment.
"Father," Legolas said softly, and held his arm out. "You may sway my mind, but never my heart. I am doomed and I am gifted to love this man, and love him I will."
Thranduil nodded, and acknowledged that he had lost this argument. "Then go with my best wishes," he said and embraced his son. "Take this boat. Those who will stay with me, let us go to the small boats."
Hung on either side of the large boats was two smaller ones, used in case of an emergency. Thranduil hacked at the ropes that held one up and it dropped into the water, it was still attached to the main boat by a tether. With the grace of a cat, the King jumped into the boat, swiftly followed by several others elves. When it was full, they let down another boat and Thranduil smiled up at his son.
"Make them remember the name of Greenleaf," he said and taking up the oars they started to paddle. One other ship, noticing what was happening had stopped, and they made their way towards it.
"Alad, change course and head towards the Bay of Belfalas," Legolas ordered standing in the prow. The wind and spray swept up and made his hair stream back and slowly the creaking ship turned and headed in the direction of the mainland.
Chapter Seven: the Leave Taking
Legolas could not believe his eyes when he finally drew close to the borders of Mirkwood.
From beneath the boughs of the trees, he watched as a procession made their way out.
The elves were clad in silver satins and silks, the materials moving with their sinewy frames as they danced and sang. The music was as sweet as honey, rippling through the landscape. It was a bittersweet tune. In it they mourned the loss of their beautiful lands with the low keening notes, but then they sang with joy at the prospect of finally going to Valinor with the higher and brighter notes.
He watched as a velvet-covered board scattered with Niphredil petals carried out the body of his mother.
Her features were like that of an ice statue, unmoving and beautifully strong, but also at the same time extremely fragile. One movement could break them.
She was carried by four elves, clad in the same silver grey. They held each corner of the board up, their heads lowered as they wept.
Behind their path came a dancing maiden, her fair hair toyed with by the playful breeze. On her arm was a basket, and she threw flower petals on the floor after the tracks of the first elves.
Next came the King's guard, who were most skilled in the art of war and fighting. Their mail was shining, and they held proudly in their hands their instruments of death. The bows were agleam and the scimitars, long knives and lances were polished until they were blindingly bright.
They walked in front of their King, heads held high. They did not sing, but in their eyes, Legolas could see the same happiness and sadness.
Thranduil was seated on the white steed that had been bred from the same family of horses that bore the Kings of the woodland realm always. His hair had been combed, and upon his brow was an emerald, as brilliantly green as the leaves of the Greenwood had once been.
Legolas saw immediately in his father what his people revered: the strong will of a King and his wisdom were arrayed about him like a mantle. Yet they also saw the kindness he had, for in one hand was held a single Niphredil flower.
"Ada" he called softly, and began to walk forward.
Thranduil turned to see his son walk towards him and dismounted, his arms open wide.
"Legolas," he said, and hugged his son tightly.
"Father, no!" Legolas said frantically, trying to get away. "You can't go now! No.... you said that you wouldn't leave Mirkwood."
"I was wrong Legolas. Our time on Middle-earth, Mirkwood, is up. Men do not need the elves and the elves do not need the men. We are taking the ship to Valinor. Every single wood-elf has come. They all hear the call of the Sea and it is too strong to resist," Thranduil said sadly.
"Men do need us!" Legolas protested. "They need us father, to help defend Middle-earth." The words were true and heartfelt, but he could hear how childish and simple they sounded to Thranduil's ears, and he winced.
"What difference will a thousand elves make to the mighty Gondor?" The King asked with a laugh.
"Some difference. Some will is driving these orcs. They are cunning. They attack all the borders at the same time. We must help them before Mirkwood falls. I know that nothing I say will stop you from leaving to Valinor, but hearken to me when I ask you this: Could you bear to see our once beautiful woods fall? The trees that we lived in and climbed in when we were but elflings, burnt and fallen. I know for sure that I will feel that pain. And I also know for sure that you all will as well!" Legolas voice was raised and now he spoke to everyone else.
There were a couple of murmurs of agreement, but mainly of disagreement.
"When have the men ever aided us? Where were they when Mirkwood was attacked? Where were they when Dol Guldur was built? Safe in their homes, that's where they were!" Thranduil cried triumphantly. He mounted his horse again and signalled for the singers to start again.
The party continued moving, and Thranduil trotted past his son.
"That's the problem with the elves. You always expect something in return for something that you never did!" Legolas shouted after them. He was trembling slightly as adrenaline started to flow through his veins. He did not know why, but it was thrilling.
"You yourself told me that father! You told me that politics was not about winning or gaining. I realise the truth of your words now, father. You cannot win something you never started. We will never win anything, even if we do take-up arms and fight, except the fact that we know that Middle- earth is good and not overridden with orcs. But if we do not fight, we may loose the men that need our help to succeed. We may loose Middle-earth."
Legolas saw that his father was not listening to him, as his back was turned. Thranduil sat proudly and stiffly upon the horse.
"It is him isn't it?!" Thranduil suddenly hissed.
"What?"
"Prince Eldarion. You've been dallying with that man!" the King said. His eyes were wild and he knew that this argument was won.
"I have not!" Legolas denied, but he felt his cheeks becoming hot and heard the amused titters from the elves.
"I can tell by the way that you blush," Thranduil laughed; he seemed to be enjoying publicly humiliating his son.
In the crowd of elves, some were cringing under the King's verbal assault, as they felt sorry for Legolas. But most of them were laughing or smiling along with him.
"You're just worried that your precious prince may not survive, so you want my, yes, MY fighters to risk their lives"-
"It's not like that!" Legolas argued.
"Yes, it is," the wood-elf said mockingly and turned back around.
The procession carried on and Legolas stood there, watching his father's retreating back until all the elves were gone from Mirkwood and only he remained. Then he walked in their wake.
"May the Valar protect him," he prayed softly as he walked.
The farmers stopped and stared as the elves proceeded through the lands. Their faces were alight and to the humble, working class people who had never seen elves before; they seemed to come straight out of myth.
Their hearts were aggrieved indeed at knowing that never again would they see the fair wood-elves or hear their entrancing song. At the back of the procession walked one elf fairer than all the others.
His golden hair and luminous skin was breath taking to behold, and even in his misery, he was beautiful.
The elves walked to the Grey Havens, and there waiting for them were fifty tall grey ships with soaring masts. The elves that lived in the Havens had been working over many years in producing these ships, as Thranduil had foreseen the wood-elves' departure.
Fifty ships sailed out over the moonlit seas that night. Forty-nine of them were never seen again.
Thus passed the elves out of Middle-earth and of most of them, nothing is said of in tale and legend. However one remains in the history of Gondor. Of him more shall be told.
~
"Legolas, awaken," a soft voice called to him.
With bleary eyes, the prince sat up and looked at the man sat in front of him with loving affection. "Eldarion," he said and gently kissed his lover. "How are you?" he asked.
"Fine."
The man nestled against Legolas' chest and the wood-elf stroked his silky hair. The room was warm and friendly. The plush sheets, made from some luxurious material, were smooth against his skin. The man sleeping against him was beautiful in face and spirit.
Suddenly all around Legolas blurred and no longer was he resting against the headboard, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
In front of him was a pale Eldarion, his eyes blurry with sleep.
Déjà vu washed over Legolas and he remembered that time. Eldarion suddenly buried his head in his covers, a blush coating his cheekbones.
"Eldarion," he found himself saying. "What happened last night...."
This was a dream.... this must be a dream! Why was he remembering this?
"It was a mistake. Lovely, but a mistake," Legolas said.
Then again the air around him blurred, and suddenly Legolas felt hot air surrounding him. It was so hot.... so very hot.
He wanted to rip the armour that was on him off, but some instinct in him knew that it was the only thing that would protect him.
'Legolas Greenleaf' a voice whispered inside his head. It was a woman's voice, deep and melodious. 'You know your fate. Why do you give in so easily?'
It was slightly mocking and made Legolas grip the hilt of his white knives even tighter.
Beneath him he felt the ground get hotter. Looking down he saw ice.
Then he heard a shriek. Legolas spun around, his knives at the ready. What he saw made him gasp and try to run forward. But he could not. His feet were rooted to the ground.
A horde of gibbering orcs were chasing after a young girl who was desperately trying to escape them by skating down the river. She had no skates on, though, and was sliding and slipping. Her brown eyes were open with shock, and she saw Legolas. The girl smiled slightly, and it was as if she slowed down, for the orcs caught up with her.
"Lina!" Legolas cried. It was the girl that he had skated with.
Lina smiled again she fell to the ground.
The orcs surrounded her and Legolas saw that on their shields was not an emblem of a curved fang as Eldarion had thought, but a crude tongue of fire curving upwards.
Then the orcs and Lina disappeared.
'You know what your heart desires, why do you deny it?' the woman asked.
An image of Eldarion flashed through his mind.
In his hand was a letter with writing on it that Legolas recognised as his own. He took the letter from the man and started reading it. It said that he was leaving.
Eldarion started to cry before fading out.
'No! He can't possibly....' Legolas refused to admit it. How could this man..... love him? He had told Eldarion bluntly that he did not wish anything else to happen.
'He loves you, prince,' the voice said tauntingly. 'Go back to him now and tell him that you love him also.'
'But'-
'You know you do.... the thing that Imrahil spoke of. The thing that is making you remain in Middle-earth is.....' the voice trailed off.
"Eldarion," Legolas whispered. "Eldarion! Eldarion!" he cried as he realised the truth. "Oh Eldarion my love, I will return to you!"
But then the air around him grew even hotter and Legolas felt the ice melting. The ice finally turned into water and Legolas fell into the river.
It was cold, bitingly cold. He felt he couldn't move, and then he saw the eyes. They transfixed him. Two large almond shaped eyes, filled with cruel intelligence and the wisdom of centuries.
It lowered his head and-
"No!" Legolas said up with a cry.
The dream had vanished into the night from which it had come. He looked around frantically. He was still on the boat. Surrounding him was elves, gradually stirring and looking around for a danger.
At the front of the ship was a tall elf manning the helm. "Turn back," Legolas said with a deep breath.
The elf instinctively turned around. "Pardon?" he asked.
"Turn back." Legolas repeated the order coolly.
"Legolas, what are you doing?" Thranduil said.
Legolas turned towards his father with a slight smile. "I'm returning. Turn the ship back."
The elf turned between his King and his Prince. "Ignore him," Thranduil said. "You are not returning to Middle-earth. Not to that man."
"You say the word as if it is something poisonous," Legolas observed. "I've met men and dwarves that have been nicer towards me than most elves."
Thranduil gasped. Marching forwards, he slapped his son hard on the cheek.
Legolas stood level, his eyes cold and determined. He did nothing to retaliate.
"I am not leaving Middle-earth to be destroyed. Orcs are not as stupid as you would believe. They will find some way to cross the seas, and then nothing and no one will stop to help you as you stoop to rebuild your lives," Legolas said. "Hearken to me all of you!" he turned to the rest of the elves on the ship. "How many of you here do not wish with all of your hearts to go to Valinor? How many of you still wish to travel the world? How many of you still wish to run beneath the boughs of Mirkwood, Fangorn and Lorien?"
"Nonsense!" the King cried.
"He speaks the truth," one elf said and stood beside Legolas. "I was disowned by my family when I told them that I fell in love with a mortal woman. They told me that if I came with them, then they would forgive my wrongs. My wife is now left in Middle-earth with a child- my child!!" the elf said.
"Thank you Alad," Legolas said with a nod towards the archery master. "Any more of you?"
"I too," a female elf stood forward. "I may not be able to wield a sword, but I have some skill with the bow." She had a reckless smile and bold courage that Legolas admired.
Several more stepped forward before Thranduil clenched his fists tightly. "Bind his mouth!" he cried. "So that he cannot bewitch any more ears with his fanciful tales."
"I do not ask for you to remain in Middle-earth for ever, even I do not wish that. But if this war is finished then I believe that we could make a home in Ithilien," Legolas said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke of the woods which he had enjoyed so much. "Tis a beautiful land and on the mouth of the Anduin. Who will come with me and make sure that the elves are known in the history of the Fourth Age?"
More came forward and Thranduil grew more frantic, for soon more elves were with Legolas than against.
"Legolas, I care only for you and your heart," the King said, opting for another tactic. "I do not wish for you to be hurt. I know that you care greatly for the man, but men are fickle in their desires, and your love may be short-lived."
Thranduil was cunning in his words, appealing to Legolas' doubts and worries. But part of his words came from true concern. He did care for his son immensely, but he hated it when people went against his judgment.
"Father," Legolas said softly, and held his arm out. "You may sway my mind, but never my heart. I am doomed and I am gifted to love this man, and love him I will."
Thranduil nodded, and acknowledged that he had lost this argument. "Then go with my best wishes," he said and embraced his son. "Take this boat. Those who will stay with me, let us go to the small boats."
Hung on either side of the large boats was two smaller ones, used in case of an emergency. Thranduil hacked at the ropes that held one up and it dropped into the water, it was still attached to the main boat by a tether. With the grace of a cat, the King jumped into the boat, swiftly followed by several others elves. When it was full, they let down another boat and Thranduil smiled up at his son.
"Make them remember the name of Greenleaf," he said and taking up the oars they started to paddle. One other ship, noticing what was happening had stopped, and they made their way towards it.
"Alad, change course and head towards the Bay of Belfalas," Legolas ordered standing in the prow. The wind and spray swept up and made his hair stream back and slowly the creaking ship turned and headed in the direction of the mainland.
