Legolas came to the captain of the Galadhrim in the late evening, when Aragorn had called a brief hold for the sake of the horses. A cool fog was flowing down the mountains in stealthy tendrils that were dun-colored, not silver, touched by the distant glare of Mordor. The company and their steeds were black shadows that moved in the mist. Soft whispers drifted back and forth as the elves spoke among themselves. Timdaur, seated by the edge of the road, was examining his arrows one by one before light grew too dim for the exercise.
Legolas propped his cheek against the curving tip of his bow, watching the other elf's neat movements. I am sorry. My heart was wroth against the senselessness of what we saw. His speech was calm and steady now, though it still leapt with the passionate rhythm that was native to the north. And yet I have seen more of death than many in your company.
The captain finished sighting along a shaft, set it aside, and looked up. He inspected the younger elf with the same meticulous scrutiny. Legolas' eyes were clear and bright again, but there was a thoughtfulness in them which Timdaur had not noted before. The apology I accept. But you forget that sorrows have come to Lórien too.
Legolas glanced in the direction of the dwarf. Gimli and Aragorn sat a little apart from the elves and horses, sharing the peculiar comraderie of the pipe. I do not forget the Balrog, nor all the loss laid at its feet before Mithrandir threw it down.
I do not speak of Amroth and Nimrodel. The captain gestured, inviting him to take a seat upon the gray heather. But I am wary of saying too much, lest I rob you of your father's gift.
Legolas dropped beside him with his bow across his knees, moving with thoughtless grace. What gift is that?
To be what we were. Timdaur lowered his voice, although the dwarf and man were clearly out of earshot. By the grace of Galadriel, Lothlórien remains a mirror of Elder Days. But your father has grasped something older, the starlit time before the sun and moon. Though accounted a lesser race— do not bristle, Legolas— the Wood-elves he rules are a joyous, simple people, a last remnant of the elves who sang in the dark before our longfathers began the westward journey to wisdom and sorrow. The world has passed them by. And that is something to wonder at, for the shadow that lies on our borders lies even more heavily on yours.
Legolas spoke without pride or shame, passing a fingertip down his bowstring. We do not have the might to challenge Dol Guldur.
Timdaur dropped his arrows back into his quiver with a patter like hard rain. You keep far to the north, where some trees still grow unmarred. Many of us marvelled when one of the Woodland Realm ventured forth after so long, and was chosen to represent elves among the Nine who set out from Rivendell.
Legolas tried to discern his meaning, but this elf was skilled in saying nothing but the bald words themselves. It was my choice, he said firmly. I had hunted with Aragorn before, when he tracked a foul creature across our borders. When he proposed to go to Mordor, I stepped forward. Whatever you may think of us, the Silvan elves shall not stand idle when such perils threaten the world.
The Grey-elf eyed him shrewdly. There was a pause during which Timdaur seemed to be debating whether to say any more. Has your father told you of the Last Alliance, Legolas?
The archer's fair face grew suddenly troubled. No, and he will not. I know only that we fought with honor against the Enemy, and that my grandsire met a brave end before the gates of Mordor. The Wood-elves sing no songs of those days.
I thought this might be so. Timdaur seemed to be choosing his words with extra care. For in you I see no trace of horror from that day when all your father's household perished. Nor do you remember the faces of those who lie under the Dead Marshes, where I lost my king.
You were there? Legolas' expression grew suddenly keen.
I was. The captain shook his head. I was there, Thranduilion, and I can name a great many who did not return.
Tell me, Legolas asked earnestly. For my heart bodes I will follow Aragorn to the Black Gate. I would know of my people's deeds of valour, if I am to fight where they fell long ago.
The Grey-elf faced him sternly. Your father raised you Silvan, not Sindar, to spare you from old griefs. Hold fast to your beech-groves and the merry laughter of the Wood-elves. That undaunted spirit will serve you better than knowledge in these dark days. And have a care, firvellon. Aragorn is of a noble line surpassing other mortals, fostered by Lord Elrond and favored by the Lady herself. It is not strange to love such a man. But do not grow too fond of humbler folk, whose lives are brief. It is better to regard them only as we do the fleeting deer, not the everlasting stars.
Legolas stared at him. You speak of Haleth fíriel.
In part. But your travel with the Fellowship has made you strange to us. He glanced pointedly towards Arod, cropping the grass nearby: one of two horses in the company that bore a saddle.
Did you send her away because of this? Legolas asked warily.
Timdaur frowned. Indeed not. I spoke truth. Think you she would have passed through the Haunted Mountain any way except strapped over a horse's back, and perhaps half-mad when we came out the other side? And Haldir had given her leave to part the company and mingle with her own kind. I took that as a command, whether or not she willed it.
Legolas laughed unexpectedly, remembering her habit of climbing everything. He wondered what men would say when they found her sleeping in the rafters of the king's hall. For a moment he forgot the gloom all around them. You will not so easily shake her from your trees, Timdaur. As dwarves crave gold, she craves golden leaves.
At that moment, Aragorn's summons rang out in the darkness, cutting through quiet conversations. Si noro lim, Galadhrim.
Both elves rose to their feet. But Legolas held back to inquire, Why did you have her in your company at all?
The other elf shrugged as he turned away. Haldir claimed her. He said any mortal who could slip past him once must be under his eyes ever afterwards. As for Lord Celeborn, I do not know why he accepted her fealty, but she has caused no harm so far.
So far? echoed Legolas.
said Timdaur, moving rapidly towards his mount. We ride on.