There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words. Phrases used frequently will only be translated once or twice.
"Morithawen! I have been looking for you. We need to talk," Legolas said, looking up into the tree that Mori had climbed. It was her thinking tree, set within a quiet garden at the far end of Rivendell. She had chosen to come here before approaching Legolas but he obviously had other plans. Only two people knew of her thinking tree. Luthawen and Elladan, one of Elrond's sons. Elladan was not in Rivendell at present.
"Should I have a talk with Luthawen about giving away an elf's secret thinking places?" she asked with a smile. Legolas grinned, an expression she craved to see. It lightened her heart a bit.
"Don't blame Luthawen. Aragorn told me you stole away in this direction so I followed. If you didn't already know it, this tree whispers your name. You must come here often," he said. Morithawen nodded.
"I suppose. There is room for two. You are here already so we may as well share the talan (platform)," she said softly. Legolas was quick to comply, swinging nimbly up into the tree and settling beside her on the small wooden seat built high in the branches of the tree. They sat in silence for a while, him surveying the view and she just enjoying his presence and the feel of his hip against hers.
"Morithawen, what troubles you? Your spirit has faded since our last meeting and it worries me to see your light dimmed," he said finally, turning to look at her. His eyes were dark with concern and question. She sighed softly and put a hand on his arm. It would be better to tell him the truth, lest he find out later from Elrond that she had lied to him about the matter.
"Be assured it is not your fault, Legolas, but it pains me to know you love another," she said desolately, unable to meet his eyes. Legolas made a soft sound of disbelief, shifting so that he was facing her. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his own. Hers were dark with despair and unhappiness.
"Do you love me, then? Does the thought that I might love someone else cause you grief?" he asked carefully. His expression was tender and caring. It was too much for her and she felt a tear slid down her cheek. She could not speak, only nod her head. When he leaned in to kiss the tear off her cheek, her heart skipped a beat and she gasped, arching away from him.
"Do not torture me so, Legolas. I can survive this if you will just leave me be," she said in despair. He captured her face in both hands and held her still. She wept silently, eyes closed.
"I meant to wait until after this quest to say anything, but I cannot wait any longer. I told my father that I was ready to chose a wife but I refused to tell him who because I needed to ask her first," he said quietly.
"You are like the sun on a mid-winter day, Legolas. No elf who could have captured your heart would say no to you," she said through her tears. Legolas stoked her cheek and she cursed herself for leaning into his hand.
"I am not so sure of myself as you, Morithawen. This elf is so beautiful and wise, old beyond her young years and the last of her people. Why would she want the youngest son of a King who will never leave his kingdom? I am just a warrior, a messenger. I have nothing of value to offer but my heart. It took me a long time to find someone that I would give it to. I do not love easily, Morithawen, so how can I leave you be when I treasure you so? Your grief breaks my heart, A'maelamin (My beloved). Please do not cry," he said gently. His words washed over her like a soft rain through the trees and she opened her eyes to look into his, seeing the truth in his words. She was his beloved as he was hers.
"Ai! It is true!" she said with joy. He smiled to see the change in her eyes. They shone gold and her spirit seemed to flare brighter than the sun.
"Yes, Morithawen. Amin mela lle (I love you). Will you be my wife?" he asked softly, wiping away her tears with his fingers. She threw herself into his arms and he held her close.
"Yes, mela en' coiamin (love of my life)," she said. And then she turned her face up for a kiss and he obliged quickly. As their mouths met, Morithawen felt a fire that had always been banked in her soul flame to life. He had awoke her passion just has he had awoke her spirit so many years ago.
Two hundred years earlier…
"Mae govennen (Well met), Kiirar Morithwen," said Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. She dropped a respectful curtsey and nodded at the King. She felt out of place and unsure in the stone caverns that formed Mirkwood's palace. A shaft of pure sunlight came through a high window in the throne room and she inched towards it as gracefully as she knew how without seeming too obvious.
"Mae govennen, Thranduil. Lord Elrond sends his greetings and wishes you well," she said quietly, relaxing as she managed to position herself in the sunlight. It was then that Legolas entered the chamber, laughing with two companions as they came in from the forest. What he saw was a Sunrise elf in all her beauty, her skin aglow with liquid sunlight and her hair aflame with the golden beauty of the afternoon sun. He stopped in his tracks, as did his companions, and they all gazed on this new form of beauty in Thranduil's court.
"Legolas, stop gaping and come meet the Kiirar from Rivendell. She is here to set the records in order. You know that since Celtathon went into the West they have been sorely neglected," Thranduil said. Morithawen turned her head to greet the Prince of Mirkwood. She had seen him once before, as a child playing near the archery fields in Rivendell. He had been there to do some target practice and she had hidden in a tree to watch. He had known she was there all the time and after he was done he had called her down. He had been her first archery teacher. He had only stayed in Rivendell for a few weeks but she continued to train with her brother, Elladan. She wondered if he would remember her. It had been over three hundred years ago.
"Mae govennen, Legolas. It has been much too long since our last meeting," she said with a smile. Legolas seemed surprised by her greeting and he stepped forward, reaching out to capture her hand and bring it to his lips.
"Saesa omentien lle (pleasure meeting you), Kiirar. I must confess that I do not remember our last meeting. If you would kindly refresh my memory," he said with a charming smile. She laughed.
"I was about a foot shorter and my hair is no longer in pigtails, Legolas. I am Morithawen, foster daughter of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. You were my first archery teacher, if you can remember that," she prompted. She saw the light of recognition in his eyes then.
"Mori! Of course I remember you. You have changed so much. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."
"It is unimportant. I doubt I have much of that little girl left in me now. Now, if someone would be kind enough to show me to the records' room, I shall get started with my task," she said, looking back at Thranduil expectantly. The elf gave her a fatherly look and shook his head.
"The records have waited ten years, Kiirar. They can wait another day or two. My son will show you around our home and then escort you to dinner this evening. We will show you the records' room tomorrow. There are guest rooms in the palace and telain in the Mirkwood. Make yourself at home in either. Now, I will take my leave of you and look forward to seeing you at dinner. Elrond speaks highly of your singing and I cannot wait to hear it for myself," he said and then he turned back to his advisors, leaving her with Legolas. Even his companions had disappeared, leaving the two of them alone.
"Well, looks like it's just the two of us, arwenamin (my lady). Let us make the most of it, shall we?"
For the next few hours, Legolas showed Morithawen around his home. He noticed rather quickly that she seemed uncomfortable in the stone halls that his father had delved for his palace. She gravitated towards the late afternoon rays of light streaming in through the high windows throughout the halls. Whenever they entered a room without a window, he could feel her tense up and pull herself closer to him, as if needing the warmth of his presence to reassure herself that the walls would remain still. He kept the tour inside the palace as brief as possible and watched her light blossom as they stepped out among the trees of Mirkwood.
"Did you bring your bow with you? We could visit the archery field and practice a bit. I'd love to see how you've progressed since our last meeting," he said as they walked under the canopy of summer green. He watched her run her fingers along the low branches and over the bark of the closest trees. He was familiar with the trees around his home and felt the whispers of their approval as she introduced herself to this place. She turned to him, the sunlight catching in her hair, making them gleam like strands of pure red-gold silk. He felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and see if it was as smooth and soft as it looked but he fought it.
"That would be wonderful, Legolas. I would hope that I've improved a great deal since then. I did indeed bring my bow, but I lost most of my arrows in the mountains when I stumbled upon small band of goblins," she said with a sigh. Legolas was a bit alarmed.
"Goblins? On the road from Rivendell? Have they become so brave?" he asked.
"Obviously and not the first time. I think I might have surprised them. I am lucky my mare had nimble hooves or we might have ended up at the bottom of a ravine as we rode down the mountain pursued by the disgusting creatures," she said with a dark frown. Legolas nodded.
"Indeed. Thank the Valar that you escaped unscathed. As for your arrows, I'm sure you can find the materials to refill your quiver before you return home," he said.
"That would be for the best. I lost a few throwing knives as well, but those will be harder to replace. But enough of talk of weapons. Finish showing me your home," she said with a genuine smile, gesturing to the surrounding trees.
Morithawen grimaced as she pushed into the records' room. There were no windows here and she dreaded the time she would have to spend here.
"No wonder that Celtathon sailed for the West if he was forced to ply his trade in this dark place," she said to herself as she surveyed the task ahead of her. Her first priority was to light a few torches. After that she began to tackle the job of reorganizing the entire history of Mirkwood so that she could find those records that she needed to update and those she was interested in reading for her own knowledge. She had only been at work for a few hours when she had a visitor.
"Well, Kiirar, how does it come? I know we have not kept things in order for you and I apologize," said the King of Mirkwood from the open doorway. She smiled up at him, actually glad for the company. She detested dark, close places. She especially hated them when she was alone. She stepped down from the stool she had been using to reach the high shelves around the chamber and moved closer to Thranduil.
"It is not bad, simply organized in a way I am not familiar with. I thought I should remedy that first, since you have asked me to instruct some of your people how to maintain the records. It will be easier to teach them using my own methods," she said with an apologetic smile. Thranduil looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded.
"A wise decision. Now, the reason I came was to ask that you attend the banquet this evening. It is being held in your honor so we can't have you losing yourself in the records and forgetting to come," he said. Morithawen had to suppress a frown. She hadn't expected Thranduil to throw a banquet for her. She couldn't say anything about it now, however.
"I am honored, King Thranduil, that you have thought of me in such a manner. I will be there without fail," she said carefully. The king nodded and smiled happily.
"Good. I will send Legolas to your quarters in three hours time to escort you to the hall. I look forward to the singing afterwards. You must pick something to sing for us," he said. Mori barely held her grimace this time. She would have to talk with her father about bragging to the other elves about her voice. She didn't mind singing but the Mirkwood banquet hall was dark and the ceilings were low. She had been glad when Legolas had kept that part of his tour short. The records' room was one thing because it was quiet and she could lose herself in the records. Being in a hall full of elves and forced to pay attention to the things going on around her would be hard.
"I would love to, King Thranduil," she said reluctantly. That seemed to satisfy Thranduil and he excused himself and left her alone again. She attempted to go back to the records but after an hour she gave up and found herself seeking refuge among the trees.
"Legolas, where is the Kiirar? She was going to sing for us tonight," Thranduil said four hours later when the banquet was over and the elves began to settle in for a round of singing. Legolas frowned a little.
"She was? She excused herself almost immediately after her meal, Ada. She did not seem…comfortable," he said quietly. Thranduil frowned.
"What do you mean, not comfortable?"
"I do not know, exactly. It is simply something that I sense when in her presence."
"Well, perhaps you should find her. See if there is anything wrong. I do not want her to be uncomfortable in Mirkwood. If there is anything that can be changed, we will try to accommodate her," the king said. Legolas nodded and pushed away from the table. He left the banquet hall and immediately went outside into the forest. He visited the tree where she had made her bed first. He didn't linger there. She wasn't there. It took him another half hour to find her. She had found one of his favorite quiet places, high in one of the tallest, broadest trees in the Mirkwood.
"Lady Morithawen?" he asked as he climbed easily into the branches of the tree. He stopped a few branches shy of her perch at the top of the canopy and waited for her to respond.
"I'm sorry if I offended your father, Legolas. I just needed to get away," she said quietly. He took it as permission to continue his climb. He settled next to her and leaned back a little, gazing up into the starry sky.
"He is not offended, Morithawen, merely concerned. I sensed that you are not comfortable within the halls of my father's palace," he said.
"Rivendell is so open. I was raised with the wind flowing freely through my bedroom and the sunlight on my face to rouse me from my dreams. I have never been fond of dark, closed spaces. Give me the trees and the sky," she said without apology.
"How do you stand the records' room, then?" he asked in surprise.
"I can lose myself in the words that surround me, Legolas. History can hold me where most conversation and good food cannot."
"Do you not enjoy singing, then?" he asked. She laughed and shook her head.
"No, I love to sing. I just prefer to do so with the trees around me to echo my songs. The stone does not sing with me like they do," she said. Legolas was quiet for a moment before he turned to look at her.
"Sing for me?"
"With pleasure, Legolas," she said softly and was surprised to find that it was the truth. And so began their friendship. Legolas spoke with his father and Morithawen was issued an open invitation to all festivities around the Mirkwood but she was made aware that her presence was not required or expected. She did her best to attend most of them, even if she did not stay for long. She even managed to stay long enough to sing for the King one evening.
The records were quickly put in order and her true job began in the deepest chamber of the Mirkwood palace: reading and updating the records. She was still only able to work a few hours at a time before her heart suffered too much and she was forced to go into the wood for a while. Legolas, when he was not busy in some other part of the Mirkwood, was often found in her company. At her request, he taught her tracking and hunting skills that allowed her to move through the dangerous Mirkwood without fear. She even journeyed with him as far south as the Old Forest Road on two different occasions. Her job did not allow her to leave often, however, so she often spent her days awaiting his return. It was on his return from a trip south that he brought her firebird feathers.
"I thought that these would make suitable fletching for the arrows of the last of the Amrun'quessir. I know your father carried arrows fletched with firebird feathers," he told her when he presented the carefully wrapped package. They were seated side by side on the talan she had made her home during her stay in Mirkwood.
"You knew my father?" she asked in amazement. Legolas nodded.
"I met him once. He was a noble elf, Mori, tall and proud. His wife was just as noble and she had your beauty. Many elves mourned their passing," he said softly. Morithawen wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them to her chest. Not even three hundred years could ease the pain of their passing.
"They were wonderful parents. I still honor their memories daily and they walk my dreams with me," she said quietly. Legolas reached out and touched her arm. She did not need much coaxing to turn into his embrace. She felt comforted and safe in his arms, something she hadn't felt in many years, not since she had stopped seeking out Elrond's presence when she needed someone to lean on. She hadn't leaned on anyone in ages but Legolas' arms just felt right wrapped around her. It made the memories of her parents' deaths seem so very far away.
Many years before, when Mori was only six years old, her parents had taken her along on a trip through the Red Horn Pass on the way to visit with the Lorien elves. Elrond's wife, Lady Celebrian, was also with them along with a handful of Elrond's best warriors. Morithawen's father and mother, Anarorn and Lymerawen, were both counted among Elrond's best archers. The trip had been made many times safely but there had been rumors of orcs in the Misty Mountains and Elrond was cautious. His caution saved many elves that day.
Morithawen could still hear the cries of the orcs as they leapt into the pass. She didn't remember much of the battle. Her mother had found a crevice in the pass to hide her in. Mori had been an intelligent child and she had huddled deep into the dark hole. Unfortunately for her, the opening to the crevice was covered over by rubble from a rockslide, probably caused by the orcs thundering down the side of the pass. Her mother had been the only one to know where she had been secreted away and her mother was struck down in battle. Those that survived to flee back to Rivendell thought she had either perished or had been carried away by the orcs.
When the party returned to Rivendell, Elrond had been nearly overcome with despair. Four of his people were dead and his beloved wife, Celebrian, was wounded by a poisoned blade. It was nearly a week before he heard the cries of Morithawen in his dreams. He had gone himself to find her, pulling the nearly comatose child from her rocky prison with the help of his sons. Days without sun and little air had nearly driven the young elf mad. He could not hide the fact from her that both of her parents had been killed. She had felt their deaths and it made the task of keeping her alive even harder. It had taken years of careful care to heal her mind and spirit. She still had trouble dealing with dark, close places and craved the sun. There were times when her dreams were haunted with the dark.
"I do not know what it is to lose a parent, though I mourn my mother's voyage West. I will be with her again in Valinor, Eru willing," Legolas said in her ear. She smiled a little. She would never begrudge any creature the chance to see their loved ones again.
"I believe the Valar will keep you safe, Legolas. Valinor must await your coming with bated breath," she said, a hint of teasing in her tone. Legolas chuckled softly.
"No more than they await you. The sun will rise in Valinor but once more, Amrun'quessir. It will be a much celebrated coming. Now, what say we fletch some new arrows and visit the practice fields? I would also like you to show me more of your knife throwing skills. You are deadly accurate with those little blades."
Morithawen stayed in Mirkwood for another two years, training a new Chronicler for the King and spending as much time with Legolas as she could. He became her best friend and would sometimes sit with her in the records' room. When he was there the walls didn't seem so dark or so confining. She would never be happy surrounded by stone but she could be content if he was there with her. She slowly fell in love with his charming manner and his quick wit. He didn't talk much but when he did speak, his words always warmed her heart. Even after returning home to Rivendell, she returned to Mirkwood often, at first on the excuse that she was checking the records. After a while she simply stated that she was there to visit Legolas and no one questioned her motives.
It was during one visit that the disturbing mess with the dwarves occurred. Morithawen had not dealt with dwarves often, though as Chronicler she had spoken with them occasionally and had even learned enough of their language to understand a couple of ancient drawven texts that Elrond had in his records' room. That didn't help much when Thranduil suddenly decided to lead an army to the Lonely Mountain to claim a portion of Thorin's newly recaptured horde Under the Mountain. Morithawen was really more interested in the story of the destruction of Smaug the dragon than the politics surrounding the march to Erebor. She was familiar enough with history to know that wars had been fought for more noble purposes than greed. But she was the Chronicler for the Elves so she wasn't about to let a battle ensue that she wasn't right in the thick of it. First hand information was much better than second or third.
Morithawen was proud of her own skills but she spent more time in the records' room than on the practice field. She was well prepared for battle herself if the need arose, but as a Chronicler she was considered too important to put at the battle front. Thranduil tried to convince her to stay in Dale after the army stopped to help rebuild the city before they marched on, but she refused. She was assigned three of Thranduil's best warriors to keep her and her materials safe. She ended up in a camp along the rear guard at first, until it became clear that the war had turned into a siege. Due to the stubborness of the new King Under the Mountain, Thorin, the armies of men and elves were camped at the foot of the mountain for many days waiting on the dwarves to break down and give the men and elves what they thought was their fair share of the horde stolen by the dragon, Smaug.
As the days grew long, Mori wandered both the camps of both men and elves, listening to the stories being told and meeting new people. She pretended not to notice the whispers that went before and after her. She wasn't vain, but she knew that she looked striking in the armor that she had inherited from her mother. The mithril coat she wore gleamed silver with red-gold trim. Her quiver and bow where dark wood inlaid with more of the red-gold and her fiery fletched arrows made even more of a statement. She was a Sunrise Elf in all her glory.
"If you don't start wearing your cloak through the camp, mellon-nin, you will send some of these poor mortals into a frenzy, Mori. Vanimle sila tiri (Your beauty shines bright)," Legolas said one evening when the elves were gathered for feasting and singing. She smiled wryly at him and he stroked a hand over her mithril covered arm. She covered his hand with her own.
"Anything to brighten the day, Legolas. This land is too barren. I miss the trees," she said. He smiled at her gently.
"I know, Mori. I miss them too."
"And so, what is being done to hurry these avarierea (unwilling ones)?"
"Bard is taking the Arkenstone to the Gate tomorrow. Let us hope the halfling is correct in thinking that the naugrim values it above a river of gold."
"And if he does not?" she asked softly, looking at him with concern in her golden eyes. He reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand, giving her a loving smile.
"Lye nuquernuva sen e dagor, uuma dela mellon-nin (We will defeat them in battle, don't worry my friend)," he said confidently. She nodded with a sigh before turning her face from his hand, looking to the north.
"It is not battle with the dwarves that worries me, Legolas. A new shadow is drawing near, a threat that is even greater than the dwarves or even their army marching in from the Iron Hills," she said quietly. Legolas was still and quiet for a moment, as if trying to sense this new shadow. In the end he shook his head.
"For once I hope that you are wrong, Mori, though I doubt it will be so. Let me know if your shadow threat becomes something definite," he said softly. She nodded and moved a little closer to Legolas in the firelight.
The meeting with Thorin did not go well the day after and the siege continued for another day, until the dwarf army from the Iron Hills marched into the desolate land. Mori, her hood pulled up to hide her face, hovered with those elves that went to meet with Dain, the leader of the army. Her bow was in her hand, ready to aid if the need arose. She need not have worried. After a few gruff words the meeting ended and the armies retreated to their sides of the field. An argument then commenced between the armies of men and elves, whether to strike the dwarves now, while they were weary from travel, or to continue to lay siege on the mountain and simply keep an eye on the dwarves. Morithawen was proud to hear Thranduil's willingness to forego the battle in favor of a quiet solution. It was in vain, however, because the dwarven army of Dain was eager to have their hands on the Arkenstone and almost immediately began an attack.
Morithawen was horrified to feel the hard ping of an arrow bounce off of her coat and even as she was reaching into her quiver, she was grabbed by the elbow and thrust back. She looked up to see Legolas' eyes, gleaming dark with anger and determination. Not at her, she realized, but at the dwarves and the battle to come.
"Get thee to Ravenhill, Mori. Your guard awaits you there," he said. She wanted to protest that she could fight, but she knew that her task was to record the details of this war, not to fight on the front lines. She was, however, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding that was echoed by a black cloud descending swiftly over the mountain.
"Bats," she gasped softly. Legolas' head came up swiftly. Before either of them could move further, a strong voice rang out.
"Halt!"
The cry was that of Mithrandir, Gandalf the Grey as he was known to many in Middle Earth.
"Dread has come upon you all! Alas! It has come more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the North is coming, O Dain! Whose father you slew in Moria. Behold! The Bats are above his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves and Wargs are in their train!"
And so began the Battle of the Five Armies. The armies of men, elves and dwarves were forced to forget their differences and focus on this greater threat, a threat that could very well wipe them all out. Mori retreated to Ravenhill, as did Thranduil, Gandalf and the halfing, Bilbo. They were then surrounded by bowmen. It was on Ravenhill that the last stand of the Elvenking would be made if such were to come to pass. Mori's own arrows did not go to waste. She watched as two of her guard were struck down by goblin arrows and she found herself standing with the other bowmen, defending the King. She was grateful for her mithril coat on more than one occasion. Once the arrows were gone she used her knives, drawing them out of secret scabbards about her person and flipping them with deadly accuracy into the throats of goblins that moved within her impressive range.
The battle seemed won in the beginning, as the orcs were cornered beneath the Lonely Mountain, but it was an illusion that was shattered when more of the vile creatures spilled over the crest of the mountain and down upon them. The tide of battle shifted to the goblins. Just as the battle seemed lost to the dark army, a cry rang out from the halfling.
"The Eagles!"
Morithawen's eyes looked up and she took up the cry with his as the giant eagles from the north were winging down to engage in battle.
"The Eagles are coming! Gurth gothrim lye (death to our foes)!"
"Gurth gothrim lye!" shouted the elves around her. Soon the cry was echoing around the battlefield. The goblin army was routed soon after and Morithawen found herself seated in her tent, writing a record while the memories were still fresh. Outside she could hear the cries of men, elves and dwarves as the dead were recovered. She could smell the stench of the fires that burned the heaps of goblin corpses. Only in her records could she block out the despair and distress that threatened to overcome her. She wanted nothing more than to leave the tent and run the length of the battlefield to find Legolas. She feared to find that his body was among those being gathered for proper funeral rights.
"Morithawen."
The quiet, familiar voice from the entrance to her tent made her head come up and she cried out at the sight of his face, smudged lightly with dirt and soot. He had one black stain on him, low on his leggings. It was goblin blood, of that she was sure. His eyes were dark with the remnants of battle lust and the grief of seeing so many of his fellow elves struck down. To her, he had never been more beautiful.
"Cormamin lindua ele lle (My heart sings to see you), Legolas," she said, leaping up to go to him. She pulled him into a tight embrace. He returned the embrace, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
"Lle maa quel (You look good), Morithawen. I hear that you defended my father well," he said quietly. She laughed wryly. She felt him relax a little against her and when she looked up, his eyes had lost much of their darkness. She loved the blue of his eyes. They reminded her of the sky.
"Lle naa belegohtar, n'amin (You are a mighty warrior, not I). I did only what I could. My quiver was emptied to defend that which is dear to those that I love," she said gently.
"Do not be so modest, Mori. You forget how unique your arrows are. I saw the orcs you felled. All good shots and many at great distance. Your skill rivals that of my father's best archers. Not to mention your little throwing knives. Your skills with the records are just more precious than your fighting skills, since they are so rare. You are the only true Kiirar left on Middle Earth, Morithawen. I do not envy you your tasks," he said.
"Nor I yours. Now, do you have time to tell me anything from the battle field? Are there any…numbers?" she asked cautiously. Legolas shook his head.
"Not as yet. I cannot linger here. I just wanted to see you for a moment. As to numbers, there are some keeping tally. They will find you soon. I asked them to retrieve your arrows and your knives, Morithawen. They will return them to you after they have been cleaned. Do not hurry a report of the devastation, Mori. Many have gone to the Halls of Mandos. Mirkwood will be darker for their absence," he said quietly. She nodded and squeezed him close one more time before releasing him.
"I know, Legolas. I know. I will not keep you, since your own tasks are not done. Go and finish what must be done so that you can rest," she said. He gave her one last smile and then he was gone.
"Tenna' telwan, melamin (Fair winds, my love)," she whispered after him before sitting back down to her records with a lighter heart. Little did she know that that was the last time that she would see Legolas for several years. Word arrived from Rivendell, calling her home as soon as she could get away. Elrond had a task for her.
To be continued...