Chapter 11
With the passing days Legolas grew stronger. The burns on his arm healed quickly with the aid of some elvish salve and his cut, which had been stitched by the healer, slowly mended. Though such a serious wound would usually take months to heal, he was nevertheless, an Elf, an Elf who was strong in body and in mind, and whose body was accustomed to the inflictions of battle. Within a month, Legolas was strong enough to walk again and resumed his usual duties around the palace, though he still tired easily. However, he forever bore a long, angry scar on his left side.
Time passed quickly, as always for the Elven race, and before long, it had been almost half a year since Legolas had returned from the Quest. Summer passed swiftly, autumn flew by, and winter dawned upon the woodland realm. The family was content for they were once again reunited, and by all outward appearances, Legolas was no different.
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The days were shorter, the sunset fell early. Legolas stood at his window, watching sun sink into a golden sea, waving goodbye with its rose-hued streamers. There were heavy clouds gathering in the air – it looked as if the first winter snow would fall soon. He sighed as he looked back upon his journey with the Fellowship, attempting the Red Horn Pass the same time last year.
A knock came at the door. The prince turned to see his brother Thalion poking his head in the door.
"You're wanted in the Hall."
"What is it? What happened?"
Thalion shrugged slightly. "Estel – I mean – King Telcontar sent word."
Legolas nodded wordlessly, pulled on a silver court robe over his brown tunic, and followed his brother out the door and towards the Hall. Apparently he hadn't been forgotten by his friends.
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Legolas and Thalion swept into the Hall, bowing briefly to Thranduil, who nodded at them. The princes took their places on their thrones on Thranduil's left hand, opposite the Crown Prince, Adrahil who sat at the King's right. All heads turned expectantly towards a dark-haired man clad in the black and silver of Minas Tirith standing before the King's throne.
Thranduil nodded towards the Gondorian messenger, allowing him to resume the message sent from Telcontar.
"Though the Dark Lord has been defeated, many of his minions still roam the free western lands," the King and his sons exchanged a look of knowing here, "Gondor has been especially plagued by orcs, and our own numbers are insufficient. We ask of the kindly elves of Greenwood to aid us in this matter, for we are in desperate need."
Thranduil and his three eldest sons looked towards each other, debating on what to do. However, Legolas stood without hesitation. "I will bring some of our men to aid Gondor in their difficulty with your leave, Ada."
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A/N: Sorry it took forever to update – been taking those stupid standardized tests in school and teachers are a little too generous with homework… -_-
Am thinking about doing a prequel to A Lost Life, A Lost Soul. Will probably be set during The Hobbit.
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Deana – Poor him, but he's better now.
Mistopurr – Your senses are right… Thanks for all your compliments!