Author's Notes:
If the story seems a little long, please stay with me: the plot will take a while to develop. This is going to be a novel of sorts.
To Gionareth – thanks for reviewing! I'll try to update as often as I can
To Anonymous Reviewer #1 – Thanks so much for letting me know. I've made the necessary corrections.
====================================================
Legolas had retreated to the Great Hall in the hopes of some peace during which he could try and recover himself. The euphoria of the dance was still high in his soul, and as it was an entirely new feeling to him, he was unsettled and unnerved by it all.
Unfortunately for him, the dreams of a chance for quiet thoughtful reflection were short-lived.
"Lady Ivilen." It was a transition from a blissful fantasy to a dissident nightmare. He squared his shoulders and felt ill prepared as the red-haired lady Ivilen Farrowsin accosted him with a smile on her cherry lips.
"Prince," she crooned sweetly. "You were quite the last person I expected to meet in this dark little alley."
"I was just on my way to the Great Hall," Legolas told her as she circled him closely.
"Is it possible that his Highness could have tired already of the magnificent party?" Ivilen asked, "or was it the dancing that has done the job for you?"
Legolas shot a suspicious stare at her.
"I do not dance, my lady."
"Oh but you do!" Ivilen said silkily. "I saw you with my own eyes; unless that was someone else who so tenderly held the lady Arwen in his arms not a moment ago."
A defective, dissident nightmare. Legolas cringed a little at Ivilen's scathing tones as he endeavored to defend himself. He saw her staring, and was faintly annoyed at her behavior. No one confronted a Prince.
It was all very well, for she had seen him with Arwen, and any effort to deny it would be futile at this particular junction.
"I saw you," Ivilen repeated again in a teasing song, her tone grating on Legolas' indefectible nerves.
"You are exceedingly lucky that lord Elrond did not catch you at it," she continued blithely. "You know of what I speak."
"Forgive me, but I do not."
"It would seem that any attempt made in the direction of, say - marriage...is out of question. Elrond would never permit it."
"Lady," interrupted Legolas sternly, "if there is any suspicion that I have intentions other than friendship with the lady Arwen than you would do well to remove them immediately."
"Tut, tut, dear Prince," Ivilen said hastily, "I meant no offense." She sidled up closer to him and shrugged one shoulder up to her cheek, blinking her long lashes.
"I would never suspect that your intentions could be anything less than honorable: I was merely advising you to keep up your guard." She stared up into Legolas' eyes.
Keep up his guard indeed. Legolas squared his shoulders.
"I thank you for your concern," he said evenly, knowing that this was the kind of unsentimental answer that Ivilen was not searching for. "Now if you would excuse me, I must go to my father."
"The King?" Ivilen asked, a little shaken. "Very well. Namaarie, my lord." She fled away in a whirl of red hair. Legolas, thankful that she was gone, continued on into the palace.
The Great Hall was lined with candles and lit with a magnificent fire that burned in the gilded fireplace. It was there before the fire that the lord Elrond stood, conversing in grave tones with other elven leaders. Through his acute sense of hearing, Legolas noted that like normal they were discussing the weighty, ever-present problem of Sauron, and of Mordor. He would have liked to listen but could not for he was only the son of a king, and not the king himself, and could not participate in the business of the Council without invitation to do so.
He saw his father, splendidly arrayed in velvets of a deep forest green, much like the clothes that Legolas now wore only fancier and longer. Thranduil did not see his son enter, for he was too deeply involved in conversation.
Legolas saw Elrohir and Elladen engrossed in a discussion of their own, and decided to join them.
"Aaye a' lle Elrohir, Elladen," he greeted them. "I see you are not outside enjoying the festivities."
Elladen nodded and looked at his brother who spoke for them both.
"That is a question that we have heard many times this evening, Legolas. We had been there at the beginning," he stated with an apologetic wave of his hand, "but it failed to occupy us for long. We returned here to the Hall to see what matters our honorable fathers were worrying over."
"And over what do they worry?"
Elrohir glanced at the group before the fire. "We could not participate in the conversation, as you know," he confided, "though doubtlessly we will soon be made aware of the things about which they speak." He lowered his voice before continuing, "This much I heard: there is a rumor that the Deceiver - you know of whom I speak - is mounting an offense against us . . ." He paused.
"They say that the One Ring has been found."
"Legolas!" The prince turned at the sound of his father's voice. He inhaled sharply, struggling to comprehend the tidings that Elrohir had just conferred upon him as he turned to answer Thranduil's call.
"Sir?" he responded with a respectful bow. The king came sweeping forward in his long robes and beckoned for his son to step forward.
"Come, greet your host." Legolas faced lord Elrond and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head politely.
"Elrond of Rivendell," he acknowledged. "I am honored." Elrond returned the nod, and Thranduil returned himself to his party with a pleased smile. Legolas turned back to Elrohir.
"It has been found?" he asked in a concerned whisper. "By whom?"
"We know not," said Elladen, answering for his brother. "All that we heard was the matter of the finding." Elrohir nodded silently beside him. Legolas folded his arms over his chest and became silent as he lost himself in thought.
"And Sauron?" he asked finally. "What of him?"
The two brothers glanced at each other.
"The Council is troubled about him," Elrohir explained gravely. "They say that he will attack soon."
"This is troubling news indeed," remarked Legolas. "My father had been recently concerned for the safety of our palace at Mirkwood - "
" - And incidentally," Elladen said, "it is Northern Mirkwood that they fear he will attack first. They say that he wants to claim the whole of the forest before striking out at the rest of us. Our fathers do not worry about our race so much as that of men. They know that though they are strong, they are not strong enough, and also that - "
" - They succumb easily to temptation," Legolas finished.
"If we leave and sail to the Undying lands, who will defend Middle Earth?" Elladen asked, more rhetorically than expectant of an answer.
"They have no chance," Elrohir said pessimistically, "without the protection of the elves, the men will fade. If you would remember, it was our forefathers alone who resisted the power of the Rings."
Legolas remembered very well. For centuries had the elves sang of the Rings of Power and how they were given to the lords of all the races: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Every elf child knew the story, and the songs and myths were reserved for solemn occasions meant for reflection. And as Elrohir had said, the Elves were the only ones to resist the command of the Rings. The kings of men had fallen into darkness, and the dwarves had lost theirs to the dragons, and to Sauron himself.
"I know not what will become of the race of men," he replied quietly. There was an interminable pause as each of the elves contemplated hard on the fate of Middle Earth and what the new discoveries concerning the One Ring might mean for it. Whatever end that was to come did not now seem so very distant.
"Perhaps these matters are too weighty for such an evening," Elladen said at last. "Come; let us enjoy the party and discuss these troubling events at another date." Legolas and Elrohir solemnly agreed, and they disbanded in search of lighter diversion.
If the story seems a little long, please stay with me: the plot will take a while to develop. This is going to be a novel of sorts.
To Gionareth – thanks for reviewing! I'll try to update as often as I can
To Anonymous Reviewer #1 – Thanks so much for letting me know. I've made the necessary corrections.
====================================================
Legolas had retreated to the Great Hall in the hopes of some peace during which he could try and recover himself. The euphoria of the dance was still high in his soul, and as it was an entirely new feeling to him, he was unsettled and unnerved by it all.
Unfortunately for him, the dreams of a chance for quiet thoughtful reflection were short-lived.
"Lady Ivilen." It was a transition from a blissful fantasy to a dissident nightmare. He squared his shoulders and felt ill prepared as the red-haired lady Ivilen Farrowsin accosted him with a smile on her cherry lips.
"Prince," she crooned sweetly. "You were quite the last person I expected to meet in this dark little alley."
"I was just on my way to the Great Hall," Legolas told her as she circled him closely.
"Is it possible that his Highness could have tired already of the magnificent party?" Ivilen asked, "or was it the dancing that has done the job for you?"
Legolas shot a suspicious stare at her.
"I do not dance, my lady."
"Oh but you do!" Ivilen said silkily. "I saw you with my own eyes; unless that was someone else who so tenderly held the lady Arwen in his arms not a moment ago."
A defective, dissident nightmare. Legolas cringed a little at Ivilen's scathing tones as he endeavored to defend himself. He saw her staring, and was faintly annoyed at her behavior. No one confronted a Prince.
It was all very well, for she had seen him with Arwen, and any effort to deny it would be futile at this particular junction.
"I saw you," Ivilen repeated again in a teasing song, her tone grating on Legolas' indefectible nerves.
"You are exceedingly lucky that lord Elrond did not catch you at it," she continued blithely. "You know of what I speak."
"Forgive me, but I do not."
"It would seem that any attempt made in the direction of, say - marriage...is out of question. Elrond would never permit it."
"Lady," interrupted Legolas sternly, "if there is any suspicion that I have intentions other than friendship with the lady Arwen than you would do well to remove them immediately."
"Tut, tut, dear Prince," Ivilen said hastily, "I meant no offense." She sidled up closer to him and shrugged one shoulder up to her cheek, blinking her long lashes.
"I would never suspect that your intentions could be anything less than honorable: I was merely advising you to keep up your guard." She stared up into Legolas' eyes.
Keep up his guard indeed. Legolas squared his shoulders.
"I thank you for your concern," he said evenly, knowing that this was the kind of unsentimental answer that Ivilen was not searching for. "Now if you would excuse me, I must go to my father."
"The King?" Ivilen asked, a little shaken. "Very well. Namaarie, my lord." She fled away in a whirl of red hair. Legolas, thankful that she was gone, continued on into the palace.
The Great Hall was lined with candles and lit with a magnificent fire that burned in the gilded fireplace. It was there before the fire that the lord Elrond stood, conversing in grave tones with other elven leaders. Through his acute sense of hearing, Legolas noted that like normal they were discussing the weighty, ever-present problem of Sauron, and of Mordor. He would have liked to listen but could not for he was only the son of a king, and not the king himself, and could not participate in the business of the Council without invitation to do so.
He saw his father, splendidly arrayed in velvets of a deep forest green, much like the clothes that Legolas now wore only fancier and longer. Thranduil did not see his son enter, for he was too deeply involved in conversation.
Legolas saw Elrohir and Elladen engrossed in a discussion of their own, and decided to join them.
"Aaye a' lle Elrohir, Elladen," he greeted them. "I see you are not outside enjoying the festivities."
Elladen nodded and looked at his brother who spoke for them both.
"That is a question that we have heard many times this evening, Legolas. We had been there at the beginning," he stated with an apologetic wave of his hand, "but it failed to occupy us for long. We returned here to the Hall to see what matters our honorable fathers were worrying over."
"And over what do they worry?"
Elrohir glanced at the group before the fire. "We could not participate in the conversation, as you know," he confided, "though doubtlessly we will soon be made aware of the things about which they speak." He lowered his voice before continuing, "This much I heard: there is a rumor that the Deceiver - you know of whom I speak - is mounting an offense against us . . ." He paused.
"They say that the One Ring has been found."
"Legolas!" The prince turned at the sound of his father's voice. He inhaled sharply, struggling to comprehend the tidings that Elrohir had just conferred upon him as he turned to answer Thranduil's call.
"Sir?" he responded with a respectful bow. The king came sweeping forward in his long robes and beckoned for his son to step forward.
"Come, greet your host." Legolas faced lord Elrond and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head politely.
"Elrond of Rivendell," he acknowledged. "I am honored." Elrond returned the nod, and Thranduil returned himself to his party with a pleased smile. Legolas turned back to Elrohir.
"It has been found?" he asked in a concerned whisper. "By whom?"
"We know not," said Elladen, answering for his brother. "All that we heard was the matter of the finding." Elrohir nodded silently beside him. Legolas folded his arms over his chest and became silent as he lost himself in thought.
"And Sauron?" he asked finally. "What of him?"
The two brothers glanced at each other.
"The Council is troubled about him," Elrohir explained gravely. "They say that he will attack soon."
"This is troubling news indeed," remarked Legolas. "My father had been recently concerned for the safety of our palace at Mirkwood - "
" - And incidentally," Elladen said, "it is Northern Mirkwood that they fear he will attack first. They say that he wants to claim the whole of the forest before striking out at the rest of us. Our fathers do not worry about our race so much as that of men. They know that though they are strong, they are not strong enough, and also that - "
" - They succumb easily to temptation," Legolas finished.
"If we leave and sail to the Undying lands, who will defend Middle Earth?" Elladen asked, more rhetorically than expectant of an answer.
"They have no chance," Elrohir said pessimistically, "without the protection of the elves, the men will fade. If you would remember, it was our forefathers alone who resisted the power of the Rings."
Legolas remembered very well. For centuries had the elves sang of the Rings of Power and how they were given to the lords of all the races: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Every elf child knew the story, and the songs and myths were reserved for solemn occasions meant for reflection. And as Elrohir had said, the Elves were the only ones to resist the command of the Rings. The kings of men had fallen into darkness, and the dwarves had lost theirs to the dragons, and to Sauron himself.
"I know not what will become of the race of men," he replied quietly. There was an interminable pause as each of the elves contemplated hard on the fate of Middle Earth and what the new discoveries concerning the One Ring might mean for it. Whatever end that was to come did not now seem so very distant.
"Perhaps these matters are too weighty for such an evening," Elladen said at last. "Come; let us enjoy the party and discuss these troubling events at another date." Legolas and Elrohir solemnly agreed, and they disbanded in search of lighter diversion.