CHAPTER FIVE

In stone halls, two will see

that silence stands

between the three

- Fragment from I Lhathron

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Legolas sat in a chair, watching the woman he and Aduial had found in the woods. For two days she had not stirred from deep sleep. He had spent most of those two days within the rooms Aduial had chosen, thinking about the situation in which he now found himself. Initially, he had resented the woman in an immature fit of pique, seeing her as the reason he had to remain at court but as the first day slipped into the second and his anger faded, Legolas acknowledged he could not blame her for the current circumstances. She was not responsible for the rift between him and his father.

He leaned forward, continuing to observe her closely. Though Aduial had expressed confidence that the woman's sleep was merely a result of magic, and that she would awake in perfect health, he was becoming slightly worried. Her face was unnaturally still against the pillow where her head rested. They look so different while sleeping, more truly themselves as if consciousness were a barrier that hid the inner self. The mortal need to lose consciousness for hours had always seemed a curious way to obtain rest.

Briefly, he wondered how many years she had seen. Though her face was smooth and unlined, she did not have the untouched quality of an innocent. Legolas sensed it had been many years since she left girlhood. Almost of it's own accord, his hand reached out to gingerly touch her black hair. She had masses of long but tightly spiraled curls that felt soft as new lamb's wool. His fingers left her hair and touched the smooth skin of her cheek. She was very different from any person he had seen in his long years of travel. When she abruptly stirred Legolas quickly withdrew his hand and sat back in the cushioned chair, feeling somewhat guilty for touching her without permission.

Ilorin stretched, her long body luxuriating in the satiny feel of the bed covers as the last tendrils of sleep melted from her consciousness. Confusion followed on the heels of awareness. Her sheets, in her small room in the temple dorm were definitely not satin. She sat up, blinking her eyes against the bright morning sunlight, and glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The bed where she sat was near the wall of a large circular room built of stone. Sunlight poured in through many tall latticework windows. Carved along the length of the curving walls were benches with red velvety cushions. Sconces holding unlit candles were periodically embedded in the walls. In the center of the room was a glossy round table, delicately carved from wood, with four red cushion covered chairs. They sat atop a circular rug woven in intricate patterns of red, rust and brown. There were many plants scattered around, some hanging from hooks in the walls, others sitting on wide windowsills. Across the room from the bed was an immense unlit fireplace. Ilorin was awed by the surroundings, and wondered just where she was.

"Good morning," Legolas said softly.

Hearing a smooth velvety voice, Ilorin quickly turned toward the sound. The immortal from the previous day sat in an ornate wooden chair next to the bed. Morning sunlight fell on his head and shoulders, illuminating his golden hair, making him appear magical and overwhelmingly beautiful.

She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly as the events of two days ago came rushing to the forefront of her mind. The words of the temple council, the passage, the encounter with the two immortals and the long night walk among the trees.

She wondered what she had gotten herself into. She began taking slow deep breaths to quell the panic and fear that were quickly tying her stomach into knots. Ilorin decided that no matter what situation she had blindly walked into, panic would not help the situation. Still breathing deeply, she opened her eyes. The immortal had moved his chair closer to the bed and was gazing intently at her face. A slight frown marred his features.

Ilorin felt a barrage of questions rising to her lips. "Master mage. I must ask..." her voice died away, as the immortal's frown deepened and she remembered that they did not share a common language. With a heavy sigh, Ilorin bowed her head and rubbed her temples. Tension and frustration threatened to bring tears to her eyes. It appears I have at least one language to learn if I am ever to know why they cast the passage. Fighting for control, Ilorin looked back into the frowning face of the immortal. Perplexed, they simply stared at each other from either side of an invisible wall of incomprehension.

After several minutes Ilorin saw an excited gleam enter the immortal's eyes. He placed his hand on his chest and said, "Legolas." She realized that he was trying to teach her something, probably his name.

Ilorin tentatively reached out, touching the same spot on Legolas's chest, and repeated, "Le-go-las? Legolas?" A broad smile spread across the immortal's face as his name rolled easily from her tongue. She touched her own chest and said her name.

"Ee-lor-en?" said Legolas similarly reaching toward her. She nodded emphatically. The barrier of language no longer seemed so insurmountable now that they had exchanged names.

Elated with their minor breakthrough, Legolas reached for her hands as her rich, joyful laughter filled the space between them. His laughter joined hers. Ilorin's black eyes met his steady blue gaze. Their laughter diminished and she glanced down, somewhat surprised to see her hands nestled in his. They were warm, and she could feel a tensile strength beneath his soft skin.

"Good morning Legolas, I see that the mortal woman has awakened."

Ilorin startled at the sound of another voice in the room. Somewhat embarrassed, she quickly removed her hands from Legolas's grasp, and turned toward the new voice. She spied the dark haired female immortal from the previous day. Ilorin was relieved to see mirth dancing in her eyes as she stood near a large wooden door.

"Good morning, Aduial. Yes, our guest has awakened, and has informed me that her name is Ilorin," said Legolas, still smiling as he walked toward the door.

"She speaks a language of Middle-earth?" said Aduial, with a vein of hope and excitement running through her voice.

"No, but one does not necessarily need a common language to learn another's name."

Aduial nodded. "Yes, introductions are certainly a good beginning," she said, wheeling a small wooden cart loaded with covered dishes of food, clothes and toiletries into the room. Legolas eyed the cart suspiciously. The second shelf contained walking clothes. He decided to have a few words with her.

Glancing toward the door, Ilorin noticed that Legolas and the immortal lady were bickering again and paid her no mind. She threw back the bed covers, and stood to better examine her surroundings. The terra cotta tiles were cool beneath her feet as she walked toward the center of the room. The room was even more impressive than she had first ascertained. She gingerly caressed the wooden table with her fingertips. It was a skilled piece of woodworking, created from a deeply grained hardwood. The mantle over the fireplace was also of excellent workmanship, with elaborate carvings across the front. Throughout the entire room, painstaking care had been taken to create elegant, peaceful surroundings.

She could not help but compare it to her home in Hassana. Somehow these immortals had captured the quality and beauty of her wealthy family's home, and combined it with the simplicity and grace of the temple. Ilorin closed her eyes as a small wave of sadness washed over her. She missed her home, and longed for something familiar.

"It is pleasing that you have chosen to grace us with your attendance this morning, Aduial. I am certain that Ilorin will enjoy spending quiet time in her quarters with us," said Legolas in a guarded tone. He suspected that Aduial was planning to escort Ilorin around the halls and possibly the surrounding village, something he did not think was advisable. While he certainly welcomed her pledge to aid in the responsibility of looking after Ilorin, it needed to be established from the beginning that decision-making was his prerogative. Aduial had a somewhat forceful personality, and tended to maneuver herself into positions of authority. He felt Ilorin was vulnerable, and he feared Aduial, with good intentions of course, would push her into situations she was not yet prepared for.

"I know Mirkwood elves are not prone to sharing, but you couldn't possibly believe it is best to keep her sequestered in here?" said Aduial who, in her annoyance, deliberately used the name from past that hearkened to darker history of the forest and the wood elves.

"No, Aduial, but I had intended that Ilorin would have a few days rest before having to face the people in the city. Remember, she is a stranger in a strange land where she doesn't even speak the languages, "Legolas countered.

Hearing the genuine concern in his voice, Aduial softened her tone. "I understand your wishes, and it is certainly true that she is a stranger in a strange land, but consider this. If you were alone in an unfamiliar place, would you not wish to see as much of it as safely possible? To absorb as much information as possible? I would not have her believe she is in a prison."

Legolas frowned and sighed. He had to concede that Aduial did have a point, but part of him strongly rejected the idea of taking Ilorin among the other elves. The Valar only knew what their reaction to her might be. In the distant past, her newness might have caused great curiosity and welcome among the higher castes of elves. She most certainly would have inspired suspicion and avoidance among the common elves of the realm. With the further isolation of the elves and the disappearance of the sea-longing, circumstances had changed. He now feared that she would find scorn and hostility from all of the elves, regardless of caste.

"Perhaps," said Aduial, "we should ask her?"

"How?"

"I have an idea, but first there is something else that needs to be said."

Ilorin realized that the room had grown quiet. Turning toward the arched doorway, she saw that both the immortals were looking at her, then the lady walked over to the table.

A gently smile graced Adduial's features. She bowed and touched her hand to her chest, repeating her name.

Ilorin did likewise with a small smile.

"I know you do not understand me," said Adduial, "but I want to extend a welcome and wish you well in all your travels through Middle-earth, young one."

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Ilorin peered through the arched doorway of her room into the hallway beyond. At the bottom of a short flight of stone stairs stood Legolas and Aduial, gesturing for her to follow them. Lifting the hem of the simple black dress Aduial had given her, Ilorin cautiously descended the stairs. The hallway was wide and surprisingly airy, given that it was largely below ground level. Windows near the ceiling and strategically placed mirrors illuminated the space with bright sunlight. Steeling her resolve, Ilorin quickened her pace and joined the two immortals. Aduial smiled warmly and linked her arm with Ilorin's. The tour had begun.

Several hours later Ilorin was awed and impressed (though hopelessly disoriented) by the settlement of the immortals. The stone halls had been only the beginning of what Aduial and Legolas had shown her. After an hour or so of walking the polished stone halls, they had ascended another flight of stairs to a heavy door that led outside. There again, Ilorin saw the trees of the forest and found herself nearly overwhelmed by their immense overhanging branches. As they walked the winding paths through the trees, Ilorin's fingers itched for the silver flute in her pack. She wanted to sit for a few hours among them and play until the melody of the forest sang through her music. She did that in every new place she encountered. It was her way of knowing the spirit of the environment, playing the "Music Unheard" as she called it.

Along the paths they came upon shops, businesses, parks and gardens. Ilorin saw many of the places she would expect to see in a thriving village, and even a few things she did not expect, such as dwellings built among the limbs of trees. Curiously, at least to Ilorin, they did not encounter many people. The few they did see bowed to Legolas and spoke a few words of their language while unabashedly staring at Ilorin. They all exhibited shock, curiosity, disgust or some mixture thereof. Ilorin generally nodded while standing stood a small distance from the immortals that greeted Legolas and Aduial. Mildly insulted by their reactions, she decided it was best to distance herself and determine later how to engage immortals other than Legolas and Aduial.

Eventually they came upon a large stone building set within a clearing. The building was circular in shape with tall windows and many small balconies. The surrounding grounds were beautifully manicured gardens of shrubs, fragrant flowers and fountains. A wide path lined with pink, flowered trees lead from the edge of the clearing to the tall double doors of the building.

"I think you will enjoy this building Ilorin," smiled Aduial. Ilorin gave a half smile in response still unable to comprehend the language Aduial had been chattering in during most of the tour.

"She does not understand you, Aduial. Yet still you chatter on like a forest bird," said Legolas somewhat amused at Aduial's continuous stream of conversation.

"Well," began Aduial, "how do you expect the poor woman to learn a language if we do not speak to her?" Though both elves chose not to mention it, the fact that the other inhabitants of the village largely avoided Ilorin had disappointed them. Not that either elf was surprised - even after the cleansing of the forest, the elves of Eryn Lasgalen had never gotten over their suspicion of strangers. Human visitors, a rarity even in better times, had always roused distrust.

They continued up the path to the doors of the building. Legolas opened them and gestured with a small bow for Ilorin to enter. Nodding her thank-you, she stepped across the threshold. Inside her eyes widened with delight. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books of every imaginable size, shape and color. To her left, a wrought iron staircase spiraled up to the narrow walkway that formed the second level of the library. In the center of the room, several large tables surrounded by graceful wooden chairs stood on black tiled floors. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating the private nooks created by artfully arranged bookcases.

Ilorin stepped forward to the nearest shelf and carefully removed a green leather bound book. She reverently flipped through the thick vellum pages. They were covered in scrip unintelligible to her. Gingerly replacing the weighty volume, she turned back toward the two elves. A grateful smile graced her features. Ilorin had an intense love of books and learning. The opportunity to study in one of the great libraries of Hassana at the Temple Imani had weighed heavily in her decision to petition for the novitiate

Legolas and Aduial stood by the door, watching Ilorin's reaction. She radiated an almost childish delight at the sight of the library. Both elves found themselves smiling warmly at her. Legolas felt a soft place forming in his heart. Before he left for Valinor, such love of books had been uncommon among humans, even those of the historically learned higher classes. After his return, he had found nearly all human places of learning in a state of sad neglect and disrepair centuries in the making. It was comforting to know that somewhere in Arda, societies of humans that valued knowledge and learning still existed.

"It is my opinion that the library is an excellent location for Ilorin's language lessons," said Legolas.

"I agree," smiled Aduial.

"So, this is the human who now inhabits our realm."

Ilorin, Legolas and Aduial turned toward the new voice. Walking silently down the spiral staircase was Henohith, King Thranduil's head advisor. He had stood unnoticed near the top stair, observing the trio below. He held no appreciation for humanity, and had been dismayed to learn that one of them was actually allowed in their forest. He was highly suspicious of humans in general, and one that arrived by foreign magic was particularly untrustworthy in his estimation.

"Yes Henohith, she is," said Aduial with narrowing eyes. She did not like him. Over many long years in Thranduil's realm, they usually found themselves on opposite sides of issues important to the king.

Ilorin immediately sensed the tension between Aduial and the new immortal. She observed him closely. He was dressed in rich silken robes of greens and browns. Long, silky dark hair, braided in a fashion similar to Legolas's, hung down his back. His demeanor spoke of one accustomed to wielding power and influence. His eyes, grey as an overcast sky, thoroughly assessed her. As he looked away dismissively, it was obvious to Ilorin that he found her lacking.

"Does she have a name?" The slight sneer in his voice was evident to all.

Turning toward Ilorin, Aduial, in direct defiance of custom, said, "Ilorin, I present to you Henohith, advisor to King Thranduil."

For the briefest of moments, Ilorin thought she saw the new immortal's placid face wrinkle with anger. She found herself cursing the language barrier once more. She did not know what Aduial had said, but from the new immortal's reaction it had been some kind of insult. She decided that he was not to be trusted. During her years in the social circles of the Mage class, she had encountered many of the type she suspected he was. They thought nothing for those whom they considered either beneath them or useless in their personal plots and intrigues.

If Ilorin could have read the deep places of his heart, she would have found Henohith's disdain and animosity was not exclusively targeted at her, but at all humanity. Those strong emotions were fueled by the pain and frustration of hopelessness. He, like the remaining elves, knew the elves were adrift in the crumbling lands of Middle-earth, their spirits slowly fading.

Henohith glared at Aduial. He was an elf of high caste, so Ilorin, a mere human, should have been presented to him. His gaze told her that he would not forget the slight she had just delivered him. "King Thranduil bid me to collect her. He wishes an audience."

He hand closed around Ilorin's wrist and he began tugging her in the direction of the door. Outraged, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and took a few steps backwards. Her black eyes smoldered with anger and more than a small amount of fear.

"I am not going anywhere with you!" Ilorin said in her native tongue. Though he did not understand her harsh human language, Henohith's grey eyes darkened like storm clouds at her obvious defiance. He moved toward her determined to enforce his will. Swiftly Legolas stepped in the narrowing space between them. The situation was rapidly deteriorating, and he would not allow Henohith to injure Ilorin or engage in behavior unbecoming of an elf.

"Henohith," began Legolas using a tone that subtly but clearly denoted his rank, "lead us to my father." Henohith's face once again became a placid mask of elvish formality. Bowing to Legolas, he pivoted on his heel and began walking toward the double doors of the library. Legolas turned to face Ilorin. He saw the light of anger fading from her eyes, only to be replaced with worry and hesitancy. Seeking to reassure her, he placed his right hand gently on her left shoulder and gestured toward the doors.

"Ilorin," he said in a gentle tone, "will you please come with us?" The compassion in Legolas' words, even without meaning, engendered a sense of trust within her. She did not believe he would lead her to harm. Ilorin nodded slowly. At her acquiescence, Legolas smiled warmly. His hand slid gracefully from her shoulder to the small of her back where he applied just enough pressure to guide, but not force. All four left the library and walked the winding paths to see Thranduil.

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King Thranduil stood near one of the large second story windows of his informal throne room. He was watching the approach of his advisor, his son, Aduial and the mortal woman. His eyes focused on the woman, remembering his last exchange with Legolas. With two days to mull over their meeting, he had concluded that his words were unduly harsh. He still believed that he son had been remiss in the duties of his station, but as King, it was his duty to lead by example and not allow his emotional involvement to over take his reason. As the older and wiser of the two, his loss of temper was inexcusable. Though he did not regret using the situation with the woman to bring Legolas back to his responsibilities, Thranduil had decided to make amends toward his son.

As they walked, Ilorin continued to feel frustration at their inability to communicate. She wanted to know where Henohith - she believed that was his name - was leading them. She felt a certain degree of unease at following him anywhere. His previous actions made her bristle uncomfortably in his presence, and the tension that still hung in the air did not help her quickly fraying nerves.

They entered a two-story stone building set partially among the trees. The interior was elegantly decorated in purple with silver accents. To Ilorin, it appeared to be a waiting room, with many comfortable looking chairs and couches. Tired after their long tour, she looked longingly at those chairs as they climbed a wide stone stairway to a landing with a large wooden door. Henohith knocked and opened the door for the trio to enter. Inside was another opulent yet elegant room. Ilorin stood by the door, slowly taking in the surroundings. Overhead there was a high vaulted ceiling, painted with scenes of lands and immortals unknown to her. There were large windows through which late afternoon sunlight streamed. Tapestries of superb detail hung on the walls, and thick purple rugs lay on the slate tile floors.

Her eyes fell upon a low dais where, straight and tall, sat another immortal. He was dressed in robes of green with intricately stitched leaves of gold thread. Long blond hair hung past his shoulders framing a face untouched by age, but which still wore a mask of maturity and wisdom. It was obvious to Ilorin, even had she not seen the small circlet of gold glittering upon his head, that he was their ruler. His entire being emanated power and command. But it was his eyes that ensnared Ilorin. In their bright blue depths swirled the pain, joy, triumph and experiences of millennia. Lost in his gaze, Ilorin barely noticed when Legolas took her elbow and walked her forward toward Thranduil's throne.

"King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen, I present to you Ilorin," said Legolas in a tone of stiff formality. Ilorin once again cursed their language barrier as she heard Legolas' voice. She assumed that he was presenting her to their ruler. Surprised, she found herself bowing in a low curtsy to him. It had been long years since she bowed to anyone. In Hassana, her family was the highest of the Mage class. As a symbol of their status, no adult of their name ever bowed to anyone.

"Ilorin," said Thranduil as he stood and stepped off the dais. He began walking around Ilorin in a slow circle. She was dressed in a simple black sleeveless dress and collarless, long-sleeved white shirt. Her hair fell in a thick braid down her back. Errant spirals and crinkly curls had escaped and framed her brown face. Though tall and finely made like the Númenorians, she otherwise did not otherwise resemble any human he had seen. Thranduil circled to face her. With his right hand, he gently but firmly held her chin, tilting her face from side to side. She is definitely human, though there is something odd about her.

Ilorin was growing steadily irritated by Thranduil's appraisal. He behaves as if I am cattle. When he held her face, her eyes narrowed with anger. It was only the knowledge that she was completely at his mercy that kept her from wrenching her head away from him. Upon noticing her obvious anger, Thranduil smiled slightly, pleased that though she had some backbone, she also possessed enough wisdom to submit when necessary. He abruptly dropped his hand, and turned toward Legolas.

"She seems harmless enough," said Thranduil dismissively. "She speaks no language that we understand?"

"No."

Thranduil's gaze turned back to Ilorin as he continued, "Pity that. I believe she would have quite a few interesting things to say. I want her speaking with us as soon as possible. We need to question her about where she's from and what her purpose here may be." Once again he turned from Ilorin and walked back toward his throne to sit. "Until then, my previous orders remain in place. She may be given free rein but I want her escorted at all times. Aduial, please see our guest back to her quarters."

Aduial bowed and motioned for Ilorin to follow her out the door. Ilorin bowed slightly, and quickly followed behind Aduial, relieved to be escaping Thranduil's scrutiny. Aduial was also grateful to be leaving the presence of the king. She held knowledge that, by law, should be shared with Thranduil, but the weight of her guardianship forbade such disclosure even to her liege. She feared he might detect her guilt.

Legolas also bowed and turned to leave, looking to escape the tension of the throne room. "A word with you Legolas," commanded Thranduil. Legolas paused mid stride. A small grimace danced across his face before the familiar expression of neutrality replaced it. He turned toward his father once more.

"Yes father."

"I would speak to you of our last meeting," Thranduil paused, "though there is no doubt to the rightness of my charges against your actions regarding the duties of your title, I was overzealous in the strength and emotionality of my reactions." He stepped down from the dais and approached Legolas as he spoke. "Legolas, we cannot continue the animosity that stands between us. In these troubled times, " he paused again to gauge Legolas's reaction to his subtle reference to the discord in Middle-earth, "it serves neither the realm, our people nor ourselves to exist in a state of constant dissension."

Legolas' shoulders sagged imperceptibly. His father was correct; dissent would not serve anyone or anything. He had not returned to replay old conflicts in the land of his birth. He could not allow arguments with his father to distract him from the slow decay of Middle-earth or his personal quest for peace. Yet, he chafed at blind obedience. Legolas looked directly into his father's blue eyes, so similar to his own and said, "She is the leash you would tie around my neck, harnessing me to a tittle we mutually agreed was dissolved." His tone was deadly calm.

Thranduil pursed his lips before speaking, judging how best to proceed. It was true that when Legolas left for Valinor, they agreed that he would no longer carry the tittle of Prince. But now he was back, and circumstances were different. He did not believe it was by chance that the Valar allowed him to return. There was no doubt that his son was there serve their people once again, even if he needed incentive. "Yes," he said simply, "she is that. But not without reason.

"Legolas, I have spent many long millennia on the throne in this forest. There have been uncountable occasions when I deeply resented the weight of that responsibility and duty, especially in the beginning. But eventually, I came to realize that, even though we are individuals, we are also beings of the world and thus instruments of the Valar. Often, this means honor and duty bind us to choices we would not otherwise make. Circumstances, set into motion in ages past, rule our lives just as our decisions and our actions now will rule the future.

"Son, sometimes the Valar lead us where we would not go. Their will is strong; fight if you must, but remember, they make choices from a plan that we know not. Choose wisely from the paths set before you." Legolas stood silently before his father, his mask of neutrality firmly in place, though behind it swirled an aggregation of complex emotions. Anger and outrage foremost among them. How dare Thranduil speak to him of responsibility and duty? He had risked his life and sullied his very soul for his people.

"Duty? Responsibility? Was it not enough to have tasted the temptation of the Middle-earth's greatest evil and resist it? To face the largest army of evil the Dark Lord Sauron had ever amassed and aid in its defeat while most other of our kind fled the shores or hid it the deep forests?

I know it has been millennia since my time with the Fellowship. But I have not the will to be who you wish. I lost the part of my being when I stared into the flames of a balrog. Or perhaps when I stood with the Rohirrim against a sea of uruk-hai. The intensity of such evil very much resembles that of a crucible. When it is over, much of your previous self no longer remains and the taint of evil, no matter how small, is forever a part of your existence."

Thranduil stared hard at Legolas. "You are a Prince of your people. The Valar made it so. That is your path…forever." He sighed and beckoned his son to exit. As the door closed softly behind Legolas, he walked back to the window near his throne. A few moments later he saw his son striding purposefully toward the forest, his movements tense. I have said all that can be said to Legolas. He shall either accept his place and his charge, or leave the realm. With that thought, Thranduil dismissed that problem from the forefront of his mind and turned his thought to the woman Ilorin. He had much to research concerning her appearance.

That night, and many nights after, he spent hours searching for references to Ilorin's arrival and what it could mean for his people. He did not believe that it was chance that brought her to his forest. If at all possible, he was going to discover why.

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Once he was deep within the forest, Legolas began to run. Weaving between the trees, feeling the wind caress his face as he raced away from the city. Eventually he came to a long-abandoned target field. He had been using that field to practice since his return to the forest. He walked over to a hollowed-out tree near the edge of the field and removed a spare bow and many quivers of arrows. He than began to loose arrows with deadly speed and accuracy amongst the targets set at the other end of the field.

Hours later the sun had finished her journey across the sky and the moon was rising. Legolas walked across the field and began gathering the arrows. The hours of focused practice had brought a meditative stillness to his mind. He now felt ready to understand the choices he had made.

He would accept the charge of the woman, though not because his father would force him. It was only because his soul told him that was the path he must take. He sighed deeply. There had been a time when he refused to abide by the whispers of his heart and soul. For centuries during his youth, he had played the role of Prince quite effectively, standing at his father's side as his second-in-command. However, maintaining that role meant disassociating himself from the inner voice of his soul. A voice that insistently whispered that he was neither complete nor happy in his life. As an elf, he could not exist in such a state of separation and remain alive.

When the opportunity to become a member of the Fellowship of the Ring presented itself, he had listened to his soul and joined the quest. After Sauron had been destroyed, he knew he could never go back to his empty existence as Prince of Mirkwood. That had meant abdicating his title and creating a deep rift between himself and his father.

Legolas felt his thoughts turning toward his centuries in Valinor. To live amongst the Valar was to be touched by unimaginable grace. The elves of Middle-earth found undying joy in Aman, but not Legolas.

Each year, he found his thoughts turning east with increasing frequency. There was a constant restlessness within him that overshadowed the beauty of the Undying Lands. Eventually, even the light of the Valar was not enough to keep his mind and soul in the West. Middle-earth called to him and he answered, though the chaos and decay he witnessed upon his return had served only to further burden his soul. He criss-crossed the land, traveling in secret, wondering why the Valar, who created Middle-earth with such love and care, could abandon it so thoroughly.

He now concluded that it was part of the Valar's plan that he return to Middle-earth in its time of need. Of all the elves in Valinor, he was the only one who continued to exhibit attachment to the mortal lands and their people. That must be why they allowed him to return. With Ilorin's arrival, he knew she was somehow important to the circumstances they had set in motion. His task, for the foreseeable future, was to understand what part he had been chosen to play. It appears the Valar would not have me done with Middle-earth, the forest or this title. So be it. But, this time I will do this my way.

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I Lhathron - one in a series of poems authored by an

unknown human seer.