Disclaimer: Orig. characters are mine everything else is Tolkien's.
Chapter Twenty-Four: To Know Thyself Is The Hardest Task
"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."
To the world of mortals it is true when said, "The only thing constant in life is change." The elves and the immortals in general tend not to like change, and do all they have in their power to avoid it. Legolas knew there was no point in avoiding change. Next to Imladris, or maybe even more so, the Woodland Realm of his home was under constant change. When Men call your land Greenwood the Great I n one era and then Mirkwood in the other, change is obvious. More so than the other realms of immortals his homeland felt change, elves were killed much too often by spiders, orcs, and other creatures of the Dark Lord. And now, he was to believe that most, if not all, of those threats, the bearers of the change of his home, were gone? That was not possible. He knew he could not leave in a land where change was not at a constant pace. He had grown used to it, to the need of always being on alert, and now that his homeland was safe, he was just supposed to resort to the life of a Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm, now rumored to be called Eryn Lasgalen. Lasgalen.funny, green leaves, a testament to his own name. No, he could not live content is his home anymore unrest had risen in his once content heart. His mother had apparently been bound by her duties, burying herself in them to escape pain and confusion; his father had done a similar thing, now it was his turn. He never understood how his brothers always seemed fine with their lot in life, they could all be hunters and diplomats when need be. They never felt the need to see the world, explore other lands, and meet other races. They could never know what he had seen, could never feel what he felt. His father would know, he had watch many of his comrades fall, had watch his own father die. He would understand, and hopefully he would understand why Legolas had to leave, had to live elsewhere, had to be duty bound to King Elessar of Gondor and his Queen Undomiel.
A phrase from his childhood floated through his mind as he studied the still sky, something his father had told him, years after his mother had left,
"You will never see how truly like your mother you are."
***
They had been traveling for more than a few months, had seen the Glittering Caves, had studied the dark recesses of Fangorn, and now they headed towards the birthplace of Legolas Greenleaf. Legolas did not know what to expect; rumor was his father had talked with both Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel; they had come to quite an understanding. Lord Celeborn would be settling a new realm once the Lady passed over the sea. Legolas briefly wondered what had cause his father to agree to this, what favor was owed from the passed? Many thing crossed the ever-thinking mind of the little Greenleaf; how had the forest changed, how would his father react to Gimli, how many elves would follow him to Ithilien, was he going to see a dwarven realm soon, did one of his brothers finally decide to marry, where Mithrandir was, how the Hobbits were faring, what was life like in Imladris with the Evenstar gone and the Lord preparing to leave, and what was Rhiannon doing in the realm, and when we should come back to him.
****
For all the Rhiannon had told and warned Legolas about the battle that had occurred under the trees, nothing could compare the Wood Elf for the sight that greeted him as he entered his father's realm. Legolas could not hold back the dismayed cry that issued forth from his very soul. They had burnt the trees. The evil, decrepit beings had burnt the ancient trees that had stood guardians for thousands of years; they had burnt them to the ground. Legolas could tell their was an effort already started to heal the ground and replace the trees. But you can not replace thousands of years of life. You can not replace the silent guardians that comprised all of the wooded areas throughout all of Arda. How could they do this; they had to have souls somewhere in their beings; no one could be so truly and purely evil.
The rough hand of the his friend, the dwarf, softly squeezing his shoulder was all the comfort he would receive. He could hear the tortured whispers of the burnt earth. Some things can truly never be forgotten nor healed. The earth would not forget and Legolas knew the elves that had fought in this battle, fought to save their home, would never forget. With a sigh of resolution, Legolas gave a short embrace to Gimli, gaining strength. He stood up and let his eyes stray towards his childhood home. The home that was a part of a past he felt incredibly disconnected from. His future did not lie in this land; it was the land of his past.
****
The return of Legolas to the Woodland Realm was, by Thranduil's somewhat ostentatious standards, very small and quiet. No large banquet was to be held in honor, no fake pageantry of pride in tales and adventures. It was not the time for such things and the look in the face of the elven prince told the tales that did not need to be spoken. He would not revel in the outcome of the war, of all the death and destruction he had seen. It would sully the memory, and no one had the right to do that. The appearance of the dwarf startled few, twelve had passed through their realm not all that long ago, with one of those hobbit creatures. They had caused much trouble, but that was then, and this was a new age. Plus, it was only one dwarf, how much trouble could he possibly be? Thranduil, pulling on the diplomatic skills he only used when truly need be, played the role of gracious host, extending all rights of hospitality to his son's guest. As Rhiannon had slowly clearly pointed out to him, old prejudices did need to come down. He warned all of his other sons not to tease their brother, who had always had an odd habit of bringing creatures of all sorts home with him.
****
Night had come and gone, dawn was making it's ascent, and Legolas was in his father's study as he had been for the past six hours. Silence had reigned in the room for the past three. Legolas patiently waiting for his father's answer. Would he or wouldn't he let willing elves settle in Ithilien? His father, contrary to popular belief did not make hasty decisions. He may come to a decisions quickly, but it is by no means hasty. Thranduil's mind was always at work. The silence was broken as his father's warm yet stern voice rung in the air,
"You do realize if you take these elves to this Ithilien you will rule over them."
"The King will rule over them, not I. And in Ithilien, Prince Faramir is the appointed ruler."
"It does not matter who is appointed and who is the King. The elves will look to you for leadership; it is to you they will bring there problems and expect them to be solved. You are my son, a prince in your own right; they pass from my leadership to yours. The will only answer to that whom they feel allegiance to, and that is you, my little Greenleaf. I know you have always avoided the most pressing matters of diplomats and politics, only learning the most base of reasons and lessons. Now, however, you ask me to entrust to you, people I have always offered home, protection and safety to. You say this participants must be willing, and I agree. However, surely you know, the ones that will follow you are the youth and the warriors of our realm. Would you take them from us?"
"Father, I know there are worries that love this realm and lay down their lives for you and it. Those that follow shall be those that have the same desire I have always had; the desire to be out among the world. The desires to live outside of the boundaries of our Wood, to see all that Arda has that they have missed. To glimpse the true world of Men before they sail West and leave. I am aware my skill is with the bow and not the sharp tongue of the diplomat. But father I have a keen mind, and many leaders have not had that. You yourself have said I have an unending amount of hope and loyalty for those I chose to protect, I chose to serve. You must realize that is why Elrond chose me for this quest. I have no future here. You and I both know this. This study, this cavern, those felts and tress, that river, those gates, all are part of the past of my life. I can no longer look to that past; I must look towards my future. I already feel the Call, and yet I stay here until my duty has ended, and part of that duty is bringing these elves that wish to go into the land of the King. Are you willing to let me take them or not?"
Thranduil pierced his son with a look that used to make him break into shivers. This version of his son did not even flinch. Ice seemed to replace laughter in his eyes. Fire ran through his veins. Thranduil realized he was clearing seeing the aspects of Rhiannon that now lived inside Legolas. He briefly wondered what shone in her eyes, in her soul. He had a plan though. Legolas needed to establish a few things in this Ithilien before he would consent to let all willing elves go.
"You make many valid points my son; it is obvious you are passionate about this cause. However, I have terms."
"I would expect no less from you."
"Such insolence, I suppose we can thank the lovely Rhiannon for that."
His son was silent, and so he continued.
"I will let you take all the elves willing to go in four years."
He held up a hand as his son started to protest.
"You must first build enough quarters to house all these elves and any possible guests that will come by. You must set up stables and training grounds, along with more governmental aspects of life. You should have a board of advisors, just in case. Make sure they possess keen minds, just hearts, and loyalty towards you. Further more, before you take the elves with you, I want you to go to Rivendell gather Rhiannon and whoever wishes to travel with her and either leave her here or take her to Ithilien with you. She may even wish to go to Lord Celeborn's realm, but it will probably be extremely difficult and emotional draining for her to be under the rule of Elladan, whom I assume will take his father's place once he leaves, and that shall be soon. As over the past as she may seem we all know you never truly forget. Once all these requests of mine are fulfilled, and any small ones I will most likely have in the future, I shall consent to your plans for taking elves of my home to yours. Agreed?"
Legolas thought quickly, realizing it was an extremely fair deal, and his father's way of telling him what needed to be done without insulting his son.
He nodded, "Agreed, my liege."
A warm smile came to Thranduil face as he softly rested a hand on top of his son's head,
"You truly are like your mother."
A wistful look invaded the King's eyes and he bestowed a soft kiss on the forehead of his child.
He turned silently and left, having other manners to attend to before all the counselors awoke.
He left a stunned son standing in his study speechless.
***************************************************************
To an outsider, the female at the desk would appear to be a young lady in the prime of her life. They would wonder at her wistful look as her gaze lifted from the letter she wrote to stare out into the horizon. They would think she was kin to the Lord of the sanctuary, not his daughter of course; she was now the Queen of Gondor, but perhaps a cousin, a niece, a distant relative of a long line. Rhiannon knew that there were still those that passed through the now fading sanctuary of Imladris, as it prepared for its Lord, the Lord that had been with it since the city's very foundations, prepared for his departure to Aman. She knew that they wondered who she was, as she wrote so fervently on the rapidly piling pieces of parchment. They would not be part of a book telling of the end of the Third Age and the beginning of the Fourth. No, the rapidly increasing mountains of papers were parts of a very detailed letter. Only a strong and stubborn messenger bird would be able to carry and deliver this letter all the way to Cerethena in Sinope. There was always hope. She stared down at her letter, to proof-read her last page:
"It sometimes feels as if we live our lives in retrospect, reacting when it occurs in the present, reflecting in the future on the past. A year later and I am back where I began this long, strange journey of mine through Middle Earth. No, Cerethena, I have not retuned to the nymphs, your son forbade me of going there. Some foolishness about "nymphly ways" as he calls them. I am sure he his enjoying Laurea's nymphly ways very greatly at the moment. You may have an accidental grand child in the coming years. I believe my dear brother has spent far too much out in the sun.
I know you watched over us, as did Vanelaure ; I can always feel it whenever she is near. I still feel the need to inform you, from my point of view, all which occurred in the past few months. However, I digress. I have returned to Imladris, to dwell in Lord Elrond's household until he leaves for Aman, the equivalent to heaven, Nirvana, Elysian Fields, only for those that do not die. I know Elrond has asked me to stay here since he can not have his own daughter. She has chosen a mortal life. I do not know if you remember Arwen, but she has chosen the path of her heart. She has married Aragorn, now King Elessar, and they are delighted to finally be wed."
Rhiannon laid down her stylus. She did not know how much longer she could keep up the pretense of false cheerfulness and detachment. For she did not feel so in this slowly fading land. A good majority of the elven population of this realm would be traveling with Elrond over the Sea. His twin sons would not go, while choosing to be immortal; they felt they owed it to their sister to stay until she passed from this world. Apparently they had already been granted this time, even though by condition, they were to be mortal if they did not pass over with their father, conditions changed when applied to the difficult situation. Or, at least everyone at Imladris hoped so.
Glorfindel tapped a finger on the bowed dark head. Rhiannon glanced up, surprise registering on her face. She had not been expecting this elf.
"And where, dear one, is the little golden elf you are how shall we say..strongly connected to?"
"Off traipsing caves and dank, dark forests with a very ornery dwarf."
The graceful golden head tilted, "And you choose not to join them in their adventures?"
"It was not my adventure to join in on. They need this. And I had other places to be."
"One would presume you would go to Mirkwood."
"I needed a break from a certain Mirkwood elf. And it is Eryn Lasgalen now, Glorfindel."
"Ah..Old habits."
"Anyway, Thranduil was very understanding about me not staying in his realm."
"The old elf wants grandchildren. You are his only hope, he will not anger you."
Rhiannon chose to ignore that last comment.
"You, my dear Glorfindel, should not call anyone old."
"While it is true that combining my many years of both my lives together, I would appear to be an ancient elf, I promise you, my dear one, that I truly remain a child at heart."
"Of that, I have never had any doubt."
Glorfindel gave Rhiannon quite an appraising look, as a farmer would over his prized cow, "Your wordplay has greatly improved since we last met; I see you have learned well from my lessons."
"I assure you, my golden one, that your lessons had nothing to do with my improved word play, but more with my gain in tolerance of fastidious elves."
A wide grin spread on the blonde's face, "Is the Prince really that bad?"
"No, Menepaurion is. He was the other elf in our group at the wedding."
"The one Brhagdan pushed into the fountain?"
"That very one."
"What was the reason behind that push, may I ask."
"It was a trip more than a push. Mostly something about Brhagdan not being worthy of his younger sister and Brhagdan giving off some rancid smell. I truly was not paying attenuation."
The blue eyes of the Elda twinkled, "Or so you say."
She nodded, "Or so I say."
Her gazed then turned back to the horizon, towards the east.
"You miss him." Glorfindel's voice was soft.
"I miss the dwarf more."
Glorfindel shook his head, "You need not use that defense mechanism with me. I have known you since the first you ever set foot in this realm. I trained your uncle as a guard, watched your mother grow. You can talk to me."
Rhiannon turned her gaze, "Where do you wish for me to start? These last few weeks have been spent in nothing but reflection. I do not know who I am anymore, Glorfindel."
"Does this have something to do with the argument with Legolas? Aragorn told me you had a long and quite loud argument the first time you met again." Rhiannon thought, "It was neither long nor loud. However, it does have something to do with that.."
***
The White City of Gondor, 3 May 3019 of the Third Age
Rhiannon and Legolas had proceeded to silently study each other for the past hour. Reacquainting themselves with the people they once knew. Both were suddenly wishing they were else where.
"I feel as if I stand in front of a stranger."
"Have we ever been truly more than strangers, Rhiannon?"
She willed the hurt to not show in her face, understanding that no one's hope and good will could last forever. However, anger and acidic tones seemed foreign in the visage of the Greenleaf.
"I have become softer, you have become harder."
"I am just tired. 'Tis nothing, it shall pass soon."
Legolas took a deep breath and with a flourish walked across the room and poured himself a glass of water. His eyes briefly strayed to the bundle of war-stained clothing and single-golden plait, then quickly darted to the window, studying the lower levels of the city. The tents of soldiers still surrounded the gates, the mounds of the Dead, the gulls could all be seen in the distance. All around him there was an air of mortality, of death. He willed his gaze back into the room resting on the female that timidly sat in a chair. Timidity did not belong in Rhiannon; she was brash and sarcastic, not timid. However, now she seemed uncertain..Valar, was nothing the same?
"What has startled one as blunt as you into silence? I feel the need to thank them for turning you into a proper elven female."
Anger weighed on Rhiannon's brow, a dangerous darkness settled into her eyes. A warning from his childhood came into his mind, 'Do not tempt the tiger caged for it will bear its claws.' A sharp intake of breath alerted him to the verbal onslaught that was about to occur.
"I do not know what has caused your mild sarcasm to augment into blatant cynicism and turned you into a wondrous graduate of the school of assholiean thought; you forget yourself elf. I am your other, and clearly better, half. I know all of your weakness, everything that can bring your defensives haughtiness to its knees along with the prideful being that my once compassionate elf has turned into. I can unlock memories buried deep in side of you, which if forcibly resurfaced, could beak your mind. I could make the rest of your existence here on this land more horrible than any fate Sauron could have ever devised. Do not tempt my hatred nor my anger elf. Do not dare give me the sharp side of your tongue. I did not force your hand on this quest; I did not deal the final blows to Boromir, Theoden, Lostladion and all the others. I am not the reason the Sea Call has awoken in your heart nor the reason your mother left you when she had duties to perform. And I am certainly not the reason for why you feel pain and despair now."
Rhiannon stilled her anger as she saw the tears slowly sliding down Legolas' face. She stood by him, gathering his lithe frame into her arms.
"You have envy, pride, anger, fear, hesitation, sorrow, all coursing through you right now. You must let it all go, mellon-nin. Let it go."
A poor excuse for a laugh, more a snuffle, sounded on Rhiannon's now wet shoulder where Legolas' head lay.
"You learn Elvish just in time for the majority of the elven races to leave these lands."
"I have always been a patron of the art of irony."
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, "I am weak."
"You are not!" Rhiannon admonished, tapping his head to punctuate her words, "You are just truly waking up after the nightmare you have just lived."
Silence of a comforting sort followed for some time. Later, Legolas straightened up and rested his forehead against Rhiannon's. He brought a hand to her face, tracing the features with his fingertips.
"I know you well and yet not at all."
"And there is the beauty and the enduring quality of our relationship."
"I am sorry I lashed out at you."
"I am sorry I did the same to you."
*****
"You are calling into question your own identity because of what he said to you?"
"No, I have felt this change in me for some time now. It was a gradual thing."
"I can not believe Legolas would greet you like that, after so long a time a part. You must have just arrived to the city."
She shook her head, "No, no. We had been there. We left a day or so after Mirkwood had been attacked. We arrived after the Ring has been destroyed but before Aragorn and his army had returned."
"The guards just let a group of unknowns into their city?"
"I would not exactly say we were let in."
"Did you do something illegal?"
Rhiannon burst out laughing at the blonde's irritated expression. She stifled her giggles,
"It is funny you should say that."
**********
Three sets of eyes assessed the fallen walls of the city of Minas- Tirith. The city looked ravaged, as if it had been to the brink and back, and yet the hope of the people of the city came off in waves. Their King had returned. And by the evidence of the violent shake of the earth, and the world still in existence the next day; the One Ring had been destroyed. Evil was being held at bay for quite sometime. Those that knew of the arrangement between Aragorn and Elrond knew that a grand wedding was soon to be had. And yet the three felt that they were late. They had not reached the city, no matter how brisk their pace was, until after the ring had been destroyed. They had not seen all in their finest hours. The elf of Mirkwood and the two siblings of an Otherworld felt as if they had failed.
One dark head turned to the other,
"Why would Thranduil send us here now, if all the fighting is over?"
The light-haired one of the three answered.
"It is no fault of my Lord. He could not have now this War would be over by now."
The other dark-haired one, silent as she appraised the city,
"Perhaps he did not send us here to tend with the physical battles that have been fought."
Light green eyes stared disbelieving at the female,
"Rhiannon, I think you have taken one too many of Menepaurion's blows to the head. Anyone with an ounce of feeling can sense the hope coming off these people."
Annoyed dark-green eyes, almost icy now, matched the lighter pair.
"Surely, my brother, you know by now that within great victory comes great sacrifice. Yes these people have hope; but it is hope based off one man who is known for his self doubt. Surely you can feel their anxiety!?! They have hope but they also have fear; you can not go through what these have and not experience night terrors for years to come. Those that set off to destroy that foul ring are not the same as those that left Elrond's home. All have changed and a deep gravity lies on their brows. Then of course, there are the elves; it is their time to go. Their magic, the natural spiritual aura that comes from their presence is also finally leaving. The hope is great, but the foreboding sense of the unknown and the untried is even greater. That my brother is most likely why we were sent here. That and Lord Elrond would have both of our necks if we did not attend the wedding of his precious daughter. And furthermore, the boundaries to our home realm lie in the East, and those are all of the many reasons why we have been sent here."
Brhagdan, taking on the familiar action if his sister rolled his eyes,
"Father will be quite displeased at the long-windiness that has come out of you."
"Hmm, I think he will appreciate it much better than the hot air that comes out of you."
Doubly amused and annoyed blue eyes glanced between the two,
"Are you both quite finished? While are assure you this is quite entertaining for me, I do not believe those guards that have been watching us for the past few moments, are pleased at our delay for entering the city. Therefore, I believe we should continue. I am quite eager to see Legolas and Aragorn. It has been a very long time since I have seen both."
Brhagdan and Rhiannon begrudgingly agreed with Menepaurion's assertion and continued their travel into the city.
Brhagdan lead his sister and the accompanying elf through the city of Minas Tirith. He truly had not expected to be returning so soon, though he had never thought to leave the city in the first place. He knew the hidden passages that could be taken in times like these, when 3 people and 3 horses needed to slip into a city relatively unnoticed by the mass populace. He feared the elf would complain about the possible dirt that would surely embed itself in his tunic, but there was nothing they could do, the tunnels would be the best way to enter, especially considering the fact that there was a whole sea of tents before the fallen city gates. Tents full of tired soldiers, nonetheless.
Brhagdan turned his head back towards his companions to see his sister fixing him with a dark stare,
"You are making us do something illegal, aren't you?"
"It is not necessary illegal. We are just sneaking in to avoid all the squatters."
His sister coughed a phrase into her hand, and a very expletive one at that.
Brhagdan chose to ignore her, he stared about the city. Understandably the city had a lot less activity, it had just seen war, but one would expect that there would be celebrations to be had. Where was everyone?
"You're lost aren't you?" His sister accused.
"I am not. I have just lost my bearings for a moment."
"So, you are lost."
"I am not lost.we are not doing this. We are no longer children, at least I am not, and therefore I refuse to participate in such a childish activity as engaging me in a frivolous fight."
"I am impressed Brhagdan, you used a big word."
"Remind me to push you into a bush the next time someone we know walks by."
"I do not understand your need for such secretiveness. The guards have already seen us."
"Well, excuse me, dear sister who suddenly has a wealth of knowledge dealing with diplomatic tendencies, I feel that we have no need to make a grand entrance into a city that you are so sure of is still filled with fear."
"I also agree no grand entrance should be made, all I am saying is that the longer you dawdle here, the more agitated those guards get, so much so, that they will come to the point where they will ride out here, alerting the city, and all those lying in these tents, of our arrival. Therefore, hurriedly pick what you see as the lesser of two evils and lets be done with it."
Brhagdan nodded, conceding this point to his sister. "We will ride towards that entrance in the walls? Can you see it, it is quite hidden."
Menepaurion snorted, "Not to elven eyes, there is an obvious different working of the stone."
"And that is why this is a city of men and not elves. Do well to remember that the King has returned, and you are now under his reign. I would not insult his people's craftsmanship."
"If you truly expect me to fear Aragorn son of Arathorn, whom I remember running around in messy tunics with dirty knees, then you must be joking."
"He is not who he once was. You might do right to if not fear him, heed him."
***
"I never knew your brother was so adept with the skills of the Rangers."
"You travel with them for a long while and dwell in a city of Men for a few years, you acquire many skills."
"Why did he guards not stop you, if they watched you from their outposts?"
"I believe they saw the elf and figured we were just premature well- wishers. I'll never know. But I am grateful they did not."
"May I ask what you did until the soldiers returned?"
"Of course you may. We spent our time in the Houses of Healing. Brhagdan talked with Faramir for many hours; Menepaurion with the Lady Eowyn. I spent most of my time just wondering around the city and observing their people's ways. It was quite educational. The city was so very tense; a calm did not settle until Aragorn, I should say Elessar, returned. The people were reassured once their King officially entered the city. It was a relative calm until all of the escorts started to arrive for the wedding."
"Relative?" The skepticism in the elf's voice was tangible.
"The King was nervous of course. He was about to be a married man for the rest of his life. You of course, would know nothing about that."
"I do admit that I run from the yoke."
"Yoke? Are you an ox, my dear Glorfindel?"
"Ox, nay. Yet you have called me a pig, my dear Rhiannon."
"Oh no, Golden Tress, I called you an ass."
*******
A/N: Yes, I have been gone a loooong time. Mainly writer's block, and now that college is starting again I can apparently write. This was the most recent of about ten versions of this chapter and is the one I am most happy with. The next few chapters will kind of have a few of those flashbacks to what happened in between the end of the War of the Ring and when the Fellowship parted for the final time. A few things I need to address about the previous chapters and such.
a) Due to my own very stupid human error, Rhiannon was spelled wrong in previous chapters. I put in the wrong word in spellchecker and yeah.the corrected versions can be found here:
b) I know I gave many of the elves of Mirkwood Quenya names. There are reasons for this I swear. Basically, it is a lot easier to find Quenya names you know the meaning of then it is to find Sindarian equivalents. I will in no way ever claim to be a scholar of elvish or of Middle Earth. This is fanfiction for a reason.
and c) to make it a true "few": I know the formats have been messed up on fanfic.net, there has been more than a few issues so if your eyes are truly hurting from reading it here, you can also go to the above web address.
Ok, that's all for now. Tell me what you like, what you hate, what needs to fixed etc.
Chapter Twenty-Four: To Know Thyself Is The Hardest Task
"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."
To the world of mortals it is true when said, "The only thing constant in life is change." The elves and the immortals in general tend not to like change, and do all they have in their power to avoid it. Legolas knew there was no point in avoiding change. Next to Imladris, or maybe even more so, the Woodland Realm of his home was under constant change. When Men call your land Greenwood the Great I n one era and then Mirkwood in the other, change is obvious. More so than the other realms of immortals his homeland felt change, elves were killed much too often by spiders, orcs, and other creatures of the Dark Lord. And now, he was to believe that most, if not all, of those threats, the bearers of the change of his home, were gone? That was not possible. He knew he could not leave in a land where change was not at a constant pace. He had grown used to it, to the need of always being on alert, and now that his homeland was safe, he was just supposed to resort to the life of a Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm, now rumored to be called Eryn Lasgalen. Lasgalen.funny, green leaves, a testament to his own name. No, he could not live content is his home anymore unrest had risen in his once content heart. His mother had apparently been bound by her duties, burying herself in them to escape pain and confusion; his father had done a similar thing, now it was his turn. He never understood how his brothers always seemed fine with their lot in life, they could all be hunters and diplomats when need be. They never felt the need to see the world, explore other lands, and meet other races. They could never know what he had seen, could never feel what he felt. His father would know, he had watch many of his comrades fall, had watch his own father die. He would understand, and hopefully he would understand why Legolas had to leave, had to live elsewhere, had to be duty bound to King Elessar of Gondor and his Queen Undomiel.
A phrase from his childhood floated through his mind as he studied the still sky, something his father had told him, years after his mother had left,
"You will never see how truly like your mother you are."
***
They had been traveling for more than a few months, had seen the Glittering Caves, had studied the dark recesses of Fangorn, and now they headed towards the birthplace of Legolas Greenleaf. Legolas did not know what to expect; rumor was his father had talked with both Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel; they had come to quite an understanding. Lord Celeborn would be settling a new realm once the Lady passed over the sea. Legolas briefly wondered what had cause his father to agree to this, what favor was owed from the passed? Many thing crossed the ever-thinking mind of the little Greenleaf; how had the forest changed, how would his father react to Gimli, how many elves would follow him to Ithilien, was he going to see a dwarven realm soon, did one of his brothers finally decide to marry, where Mithrandir was, how the Hobbits were faring, what was life like in Imladris with the Evenstar gone and the Lord preparing to leave, and what was Rhiannon doing in the realm, and when we should come back to him.
****
For all the Rhiannon had told and warned Legolas about the battle that had occurred under the trees, nothing could compare the Wood Elf for the sight that greeted him as he entered his father's realm. Legolas could not hold back the dismayed cry that issued forth from his very soul. They had burnt the trees. The evil, decrepit beings had burnt the ancient trees that had stood guardians for thousands of years; they had burnt them to the ground. Legolas could tell their was an effort already started to heal the ground and replace the trees. But you can not replace thousands of years of life. You can not replace the silent guardians that comprised all of the wooded areas throughout all of Arda. How could they do this; they had to have souls somewhere in their beings; no one could be so truly and purely evil.
The rough hand of the his friend, the dwarf, softly squeezing his shoulder was all the comfort he would receive. He could hear the tortured whispers of the burnt earth. Some things can truly never be forgotten nor healed. The earth would not forget and Legolas knew the elves that had fought in this battle, fought to save their home, would never forget. With a sigh of resolution, Legolas gave a short embrace to Gimli, gaining strength. He stood up and let his eyes stray towards his childhood home. The home that was a part of a past he felt incredibly disconnected from. His future did not lie in this land; it was the land of his past.
****
The return of Legolas to the Woodland Realm was, by Thranduil's somewhat ostentatious standards, very small and quiet. No large banquet was to be held in honor, no fake pageantry of pride in tales and adventures. It was not the time for such things and the look in the face of the elven prince told the tales that did not need to be spoken. He would not revel in the outcome of the war, of all the death and destruction he had seen. It would sully the memory, and no one had the right to do that. The appearance of the dwarf startled few, twelve had passed through their realm not all that long ago, with one of those hobbit creatures. They had caused much trouble, but that was then, and this was a new age. Plus, it was only one dwarf, how much trouble could he possibly be? Thranduil, pulling on the diplomatic skills he only used when truly need be, played the role of gracious host, extending all rights of hospitality to his son's guest. As Rhiannon had slowly clearly pointed out to him, old prejudices did need to come down. He warned all of his other sons not to tease their brother, who had always had an odd habit of bringing creatures of all sorts home with him.
****
Night had come and gone, dawn was making it's ascent, and Legolas was in his father's study as he had been for the past six hours. Silence had reigned in the room for the past three. Legolas patiently waiting for his father's answer. Would he or wouldn't he let willing elves settle in Ithilien? His father, contrary to popular belief did not make hasty decisions. He may come to a decisions quickly, but it is by no means hasty. Thranduil's mind was always at work. The silence was broken as his father's warm yet stern voice rung in the air,
"You do realize if you take these elves to this Ithilien you will rule over them."
"The King will rule over them, not I. And in Ithilien, Prince Faramir is the appointed ruler."
"It does not matter who is appointed and who is the King. The elves will look to you for leadership; it is to you they will bring there problems and expect them to be solved. You are my son, a prince in your own right; they pass from my leadership to yours. The will only answer to that whom they feel allegiance to, and that is you, my little Greenleaf. I know you have always avoided the most pressing matters of diplomats and politics, only learning the most base of reasons and lessons. Now, however, you ask me to entrust to you, people I have always offered home, protection and safety to. You say this participants must be willing, and I agree. However, surely you know, the ones that will follow you are the youth and the warriors of our realm. Would you take them from us?"
"Father, I know there are worries that love this realm and lay down their lives for you and it. Those that follow shall be those that have the same desire I have always had; the desire to be out among the world. The desires to live outside of the boundaries of our Wood, to see all that Arda has that they have missed. To glimpse the true world of Men before they sail West and leave. I am aware my skill is with the bow and not the sharp tongue of the diplomat. But father I have a keen mind, and many leaders have not had that. You yourself have said I have an unending amount of hope and loyalty for those I chose to protect, I chose to serve. You must realize that is why Elrond chose me for this quest. I have no future here. You and I both know this. This study, this cavern, those felts and tress, that river, those gates, all are part of the past of my life. I can no longer look to that past; I must look towards my future. I already feel the Call, and yet I stay here until my duty has ended, and part of that duty is bringing these elves that wish to go into the land of the King. Are you willing to let me take them or not?"
Thranduil pierced his son with a look that used to make him break into shivers. This version of his son did not even flinch. Ice seemed to replace laughter in his eyes. Fire ran through his veins. Thranduil realized he was clearing seeing the aspects of Rhiannon that now lived inside Legolas. He briefly wondered what shone in her eyes, in her soul. He had a plan though. Legolas needed to establish a few things in this Ithilien before he would consent to let all willing elves go.
"You make many valid points my son; it is obvious you are passionate about this cause. However, I have terms."
"I would expect no less from you."
"Such insolence, I suppose we can thank the lovely Rhiannon for that."
His son was silent, and so he continued.
"I will let you take all the elves willing to go in four years."
He held up a hand as his son started to protest.
"You must first build enough quarters to house all these elves and any possible guests that will come by. You must set up stables and training grounds, along with more governmental aspects of life. You should have a board of advisors, just in case. Make sure they possess keen minds, just hearts, and loyalty towards you. Further more, before you take the elves with you, I want you to go to Rivendell gather Rhiannon and whoever wishes to travel with her and either leave her here or take her to Ithilien with you. She may even wish to go to Lord Celeborn's realm, but it will probably be extremely difficult and emotional draining for her to be under the rule of Elladan, whom I assume will take his father's place once he leaves, and that shall be soon. As over the past as she may seem we all know you never truly forget. Once all these requests of mine are fulfilled, and any small ones I will most likely have in the future, I shall consent to your plans for taking elves of my home to yours. Agreed?"
Legolas thought quickly, realizing it was an extremely fair deal, and his father's way of telling him what needed to be done without insulting his son.
He nodded, "Agreed, my liege."
A warm smile came to Thranduil face as he softly rested a hand on top of his son's head,
"You truly are like your mother."
A wistful look invaded the King's eyes and he bestowed a soft kiss on the forehead of his child.
He turned silently and left, having other manners to attend to before all the counselors awoke.
He left a stunned son standing in his study speechless.
***************************************************************
To an outsider, the female at the desk would appear to be a young lady in the prime of her life. They would wonder at her wistful look as her gaze lifted from the letter she wrote to stare out into the horizon. They would think she was kin to the Lord of the sanctuary, not his daughter of course; she was now the Queen of Gondor, but perhaps a cousin, a niece, a distant relative of a long line. Rhiannon knew that there were still those that passed through the now fading sanctuary of Imladris, as it prepared for its Lord, the Lord that had been with it since the city's very foundations, prepared for his departure to Aman. She knew that they wondered who she was, as she wrote so fervently on the rapidly piling pieces of parchment. They would not be part of a book telling of the end of the Third Age and the beginning of the Fourth. No, the rapidly increasing mountains of papers were parts of a very detailed letter. Only a strong and stubborn messenger bird would be able to carry and deliver this letter all the way to Cerethena in Sinope. There was always hope. She stared down at her letter, to proof-read her last page:
"It sometimes feels as if we live our lives in retrospect, reacting when it occurs in the present, reflecting in the future on the past. A year later and I am back where I began this long, strange journey of mine through Middle Earth. No, Cerethena, I have not retuned to the nymphs, your son forbade me of going there. Some foolishness about "nymphly ways" as he calls them. I am sure he his enjoying Laurea's nymphly ways very greatly at the moment. You may have an accidental grand child in the coming years. I believe my dear brother has spent far too much out in the sun.
I know you watched over us, as did Vanelaure ; I can always feel it whenever she is near. I still feel the need to inform you, from my point of view, all which occurred in the past few months. However, I digress. I have returned to Imladris, to dwell in Lord Elrond's household until he leaves for Aman, the equivalent to heaven, Nirvana, Elysian Fields, only for those that do not die. I know Elrond has asked me to stay here since he can not have his own daughter. She has chosen a mortal life. I do not know if you remember Arwen, but she has chosen the path of her heart. She has married Aragorn, now King Elessar, and they are delighted to finally be wed."
Rhiannon laid down her stylus. She did not know how much longer she could keep up the pretense of false cheerfulness and detachment. For she did not feel so in this slowly fading land. A good majority of the elven population of this realm would be traveling with Elrond over the Sea. His twin sons would not go, while choosing to be immortal; they felt they owed it to their sister to stay until she passed from this world. Apparently they had already been granted this time, even though by condition, they were to be mortal if they did not pass over with their father, conditions changed when applied to the difficult situation. Or, at least everyone at Imladris hoped so.
Glorfindel tapped a finger on the bowed dark head. Rhiannon glanced up, surprise registering on her face. She had not been expecting this elf.
"And where, dear one, is the little golden elf you are how shall we say..strongly connected to?"
"Off traipsing caves and dank, dark forests with a very ornery dwarf."
The graceful golden head tilted, "And you choose not to join them in their adventures?"
"It was not my adventure to join in on. They need this. And I had other places to be."
"One would presume you would go to Mirkwood."
"I needed a break from a certain Mirkwood elf. And it is Eryn Lasgalen now, Glorfindel."
"Ah..Old habits."
"Anyway, Thranduil was very understanding about me not staying in his realm."
"The old elf wants grandchildren. You are his only hope, he will not anger you."
Rhiannon chose to ignore that last comment.
"You, my dear Glorfindel, should not call anyone old."
"While it is true that combining my many years of both my lives together, I would appear to be an ancient elf, I promise you, my dear one, that I truly remain a child at heart."
"Of that, I have never had any doubt."
Glorfindel gave Rhiannon quite an appraising look, as a farmer would over his prized cow, "Your wordplay has greatly improved since we last met; I see you have learned well from my lessons."
"I assure you, my golden one, that your lessons had nothing to do with my improved word play, but more with my gain in tolerance of fastidious elves."
A wide grin spread on the blonde's face, "Is the Prince really that bad?"
"No, Menepaurion is. He was the other elf in our group at the wedding."
"The one Brhagdan pushed into the fountain?"
"That very one."
"What was the reason behind that push, may I ask."
"It was a trip more than a push. Mostly something about Brhagdan not being worthy of his younger sister and Brhagdan giving off some rancid smell. I truly was not paying attenuation."
The blue eyes of the Elda twinkled, "Or so you say."
She nodded, "Or so I say."
Her gazed then turned back to the horizon, towards the east.
"You miss him." Glorfindel's voice was soft.
"I miss the dwarf more."
Glorfindel shook his head, "You need not use that defense mechanism with me. I have known you since the first you ever set foot in this realm. I trained your uncle as a guard, watched your mother grow. You can talk to me."
Rhiannon turned her gaze, "Where do you wish for me to start? These last few weeks have been spent in nothing but reflection. I do not know who I am anymore, Glorfindel."
"Does this have something to do with the argument with Legolas? Aragorn told me you had a long and quite loud argument the first time you met again." Rhiannon thought, "It was neither long nor loud. However, it does have something to do with that.."
***
The White City of Gondor, 3 May 3019 of the Third Age
Rhiannon and Legolas had proceeded to silently study each other for the past hour. Reacquainting themselves with the people they once knew. Both were suddenly wishing they were else where.
"I feel as if I stand in front of a stranger."
"Have we ever been truly more than strangers, Rhiannon?"
She willed the hurt to not show in her face, understanding that no one's hope and good will could last forever. However, anger and acidic tones seemed foreign in the visage of the Greenleaf.
"I have become softer, you have become harder."
"I am just tired. 'Tis nothing, it shall pass soon."
Legolas took a deep breath and with a flourish walked across the room and poured himself a glass of water. His eyes briefly strayed to the bundle of war-stained clothing and single-golden plait, then quickly darted to the window, studying the lower levels of the city. The tents of soldiers still surrounded the gates, the mounds of the Dead, the gulls could all be seen in the distance. All around him there was an air of mortality, of death. He willed his gaze back into the room resting on the female that timidly sat in a chair. Timidity did not belong in Rhiannon; she was brash and sarcastic, not timid. However, now she seemed uncertain..Valar, was nothing the same?
"What has startled one as blunt as you into silence? I feel the need to thank them for turning you into a proper elven female."
Anger weighed on Rhiannon's brow, a dangerous darkness settled into her eyes. A warning from his childhood came into his mind, 'Do not tempt the tiger caged for it will bear its claws.' A sharp intake of breath alerted him to the verbal onslaught that was about to occur.
"I do not know what has caused your mild sarcasm to augment into blatant cynicism and turned you into a wondrous graduate of the school of assholiean thought; you forget yourself elf. I am your other, and clearly better, half. I know all of your weakness, everything that can bring your defensives haughtiness to its knees along with the prideful being that my once compassionate elf has turned into. I can unlock memories buried deep in side of you, which if forcibly resurfaced, could beak your mind. I could make the rest of your existence here on this land more horrible than any fate Sauron could have ever devised. Do not tempt my hatred nor my anger elf. Do not dare give me the sharp side of your tongue. I did not force your hand on this quest; I did not deal the final blows to Boromir, Theoden, Lostladion and all the others. I am not the reason the Sea Call has awoken in your heart nor the reason your mother left you when she had duties to perform. And I am certainly not the reason for why you feel pain and despair now."
Rhiannon stilled her anger as she saw the tears slowly sliding down Legolas' face. She stood by him, gathering his lithe frame into her arms.
"You have envy, pride, anger, fear, hesitation, sorrow, all coursing through you right now. You must let it all go, mellon-nin. Let it go."
A poor excuse for a laugh, more a snuffle, sounded on Rhiannon's now wet shoulder where Legolas' head lay.
"You learn Elvish just in time for the majority of the elven races to leave these lands."
"I have always been a patron of the art of irony."
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, "I am weak."
"You are not!" Rhiannon admonished, tapping his head to punctuate her words, "You are just truly waking up after the nightmare you have just lived."
Silence of a comforting sort followed for some time. Later, Legolas straightened up and rested his forehead against Rhiannon's. He brought a hand to her face, tracing the features with his fingertips.
"I know you well and yet not at all."
"And there is the beauty and the enduring quality of our relationship."
"I am sorry I lashed out at you."
"I am sorry I did the same to you."
*****
"You are calling into question your own identity because of what he said to you?"
"No, I have felt this change in me for some time now. It was a gradual thing."
"I can not believe Legolas would greet you like that, after so long a time a part. You must have just arrived to the city."
She shook her head, "No, no. We had been there. We left a day or so after Mirkwood had been attacked. We arrived after the Ring has been destroyed but before Aragorn and his army had returned."
"The guards just let a group of unknowns into their city?"
"I would not exactly say we were let in."
"Did you do something illegal?"
Rhiannon burst out laughing at the blonde's irritated expression. She stifled her giggles,
"It is funny you should say that."
**********
Three sets of eyes assessed the fallen walls of the city of Minas- Tirith. The city looked ravaged, as if it had been to the brink and back, and yet the hope of the people of the city came off in waves. Their King had returned. And by the evidence of the violent shake of the earth, and the world still in existence the next day; the One Ring had been destroyed. Evil was being held at bay for quite sometime. Those that knew of the arrangement between Aragorn and Elrond knew that a grand wedding was soon to be had. And yet the three felt that they were late. They had not reached the city, no matter how brisk their pace was, until after the ring had been destroyed. They had not seen all in their finest hours. The elf of Mirkwood and the two siblings of an Otherworld felt as if they had failed.
One dark head turned to the other,
"Why would Thranduil send us here now, if all the fighting is over?"
The light-haired one of the three answered.
"It is no fault of my Lord. He could not have now this War would be over by now."
The other dark-haired one, silent as she appraised the city,
"Perhaps he did not send us here to tend with the physical battles that have been fought."
Light green eyes stared disbelieving at the female,
"Rhiannon, I think you have taken one too many of Menepaurion's blows to the head. Anyone with an ounce of feeling can sense the hope coming off these people."
Annoyed dark-green eyes, almost icy now, matched the lighter pair.
"Surely, my brother, you know by now that within great victory comes great sacrifice. Yes these people have hope; but it is hope based off one man who is known for his self doubt. Surely you can feel their anxiety!?! They have hope but they also have fear; you can not go through what these have and not experience night terrors for years to come. Those that set off to destroy that foul ring are not the same as those that left Elrond's home. All have changed and a deep gravity lies on their brows. Then of course, there are the elves; it is their time to go. Their magic, the natural spiritual aura that comes from their presence is also finally leaving. The hope is great, but the foreboding sense of the unknown and the untried is even greater. That my brother is most likely why we were sent here. That and Lord Elrond would have both of our necks if we did not attend the wedding of his precious daughter. And furthermore, the boundaries to our home realm lie in the East, and those are all of the many reasons why we have been sent here."
Brhagdan, taking on the familiar action if his sister rolled his eyes,
"Father will be quite displeased at the long-windiness that has come out of you."
"Hmm, I think he will appreciate it much better than the hot air that comes out of you."
Doubly amused and annoyed blue eyes glanced between the two,
"Are you both quite finished? While are assure you this is quite entertaining for me, I do not believe those guards that have been watching us for the past few moments, are pleased at our delay for entering the city. Therefore, I believe we should continue. I am quite eager to see Legolas and Aragorn. It has been a very long time since I have seen both."
Brhagdan and Rhiannon begrudgingly agreed with Menepaurion's assertion and continued their travel into the city.
Brhagdan lead his sister and the accompanying elf through the city of Minas Tirith. He truly had not expected to be returning so soon, though he had never thought to leave the city in the first place. He knew the hidden passages that could be taken in times like these, when 3 people and 3 horses needed to slip into a city relatively unnoticed by the mass populace. He feared the elf would complain about the possible dirt that would surely embed itself in his tunic, but there was nothing they could do, the tunnels would be the best way to enter, especially considering the fact that there was a whole sea of tents before the fallen city gates. Tents full of tired soldiers, nonetheless.
Brhagdan turned his head back towards his companions to see his sister fixing him with a dark stare,
"You are making us do something illegal, aren't you?"
"It is not necessary illegal. We are just sneaking in to avoid all the squatters."
His sister coughed a phrase into her hand, and a very expletive one at that.
Brhagdan chose to ignore her, he stared about the city. Understandably the city had a lot less activity, it had just seen war, but one would expect that there would be celebrations to be had. Where was everyone?
"You're lost aren't you?" His sister accused.
"I am not. I have just lost my bearings for a moment."
"So, you are lost."
"I am not lost.we are not doing this. We are no longer children, at least I am not, and therefore I refuse to participate in such a childish activity as engaging me in a frivolous fight."
"I am impressed Brhagdan, you used a big word."
"Remind me to push you into a bush the next time someone we know walks by."
"I do not understand your need for such secretiveness. The guards have already seen us."
"Well, excuse me, dear sister who suddenly has a wealth of knowledge dealing with diplomatic tendencies, I feel that we have no need to make a grand entrance into a city that you are so sure of is still filled with fear."
"I also agree no grand entrance should be made, all I am saying is that the longer you dawdle here, the more agitated those guards get, so much so, that they will come to the point where they will ride out here, alerting the city, and all those lying in these tents, of our arrival. Therefore, hurriedly pick what you see as the lesser of two evils and lets be done with it."
Brhagdan nodded, conceding this point to his sister. "We will ride towards that entrance in the walls? Can you see it, it is quite hidden."
Menepaurion snorted, "Not to elven eyes, there is an obvious different working of the stone."
"And that is why this is a city of men and not elves. Do well to remember that the King has returned, and you are now under his reign. I would not insult his people's craftsmanship."
"If you truly expect me to fear Aragorn son of Arathorn, whom I remember running around in messy tunics with dirty knees, then you must be joking."
"He is not who he once was. You might do right to if not fear him, heed him."
***
"I never knew your brother was so adept with the skills of the Rangers."
"You travel with them for a long while and dwell in a city of Men for a few years, you acquire many skills."
"Why did he guards not stop you, if they watched you from their outposts?"
"I believe they saw the elf and figured we were just premature well- wishers. I'll never know. But I am grateful they did not."
"May I ask what you did until the soldiers returned?"
"Of course you may. We spent our time in the Houses of Healing. Brhagdan talked with Faramir for many hours; Menepaurion with the Lady Eowyn. I spent most of my time just wondering around the city and observing their people's ways. It was quite educational. The city was so very tense; a calm did not settle until Aragorn, I should say Elessar, returned. The people were reassured once their King officially entered the city. It was a relative calm until all of the escorts started to arrive for the wedding."
"Relative?" The skepticism in the elf's voice was tangible.
"The King was nervous of course. He was about to be a married man for the rest of his life. You of course, would know nothing about that."
"I do admit that I run from the yoke."
"Yoke? Are you an ox, my dear Glorfindel?"
"Ox, nay. Yet you have called me a pig, my dear Rhiannon."
"Oh no, Golden Tress, I called you an ass."
*******
A/N: Yes, I have been gone a loooong time. Mainly writer's block, and now that college is starting again I can apparently write. This was the most recent of about ten versions of this chapter and is the one I am most happy with. The next few chapters will kind of have a few of those flashbacks to what happened in between the end of the War of the Ring and when the Fellowship parted for the final time. A few things I need to address about the previous chapters and such.
a) Due to my own very stupid human error, Rhiannon was spelled wrong in previous chapters. I put in the wrong word in spellchecker and yeah.the corrected versions can be found here:
b) I know I gave many of the elves of Mirkwood Quenya names. There are reasons for this I swear. Basically, it is a lot easier to find Quenya names you know the meaning of then it is to find Sindarian equivalents. I will in no way ever claim to be a scholar of elvish or of Middle Earth. This is fanfiction for a reason.
and c) to make it a true "few": I know the formats have been messed up on fanfic.net, there has been more than a few issues so if your eyes are truly hurting from reading it here, you can also go to the above web address.
Ok, that's all for now. Tell me what you like, what you hate, what needs to fixed etc.