Chapter 17
Silva sat at the dining table at Thranduil's right hand, though there was an empty seat between them. Now she was courting the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, she had a seat of honour. Before she had sat reasonably close, but this was recognisable to everyone as renown. Though, she'd caused quite a stir when she entered the hall alone. Where was the young Prince? Why wasn't she with him? She found the muttering and whispering throughout the room quite unsettling, though she made sure it didn't show. Once in her new seat, she kept her head lowered and stared at the evidently fascinating pattern on the table cloth.
"Good evening, my l- Thranduil," she said.
"Good evening, Silva," he announced. "Where is he?" he muttered as she sat.
"I don't know," she replied in a hush. "I haven't seen him since he left this morning."
"You mean he hasn't been to see you?"
"No. I didn't expect him to. He'll seek me when he's ready."
"Damn the boy," cursed the King. "He had betted turn up soon."
"It's not his fault. Don't be too harsh on him."
"You're too kind," said a voice. "Good evening father, Silvawen." They looked up and were shocked to see Legolas standing watching them vacantly. They were shocked because the voice hadn't sounded like his. It was expressionless. Some may have mistaken it for sarcastic or cruel, but it was neither. It was just... empty. He took his rightful place in between Silva and Thranduil and didn't utter another word for the entire meal.
The King began to worry for his son. He'd never seen him like this before. He watched as Silva tried countless times to catch Legolas' eye, but to no avail. His natural aura was dim. It was almost as though his soul had been taken from his body and all that remained of the Elf was an outer shell. If not his soul, then his heart.
When the meal was ended and the necessary announcements had been made, Legolas excused himself. To Silva's dismay, this time he did not even acknowledge her presence. She held back threatening tears and looked to the King expectantly.
"Thranduil?" she said, her voice quivering with pending emotion.
"Go after him," he said. "See if you can knock some sense into him. I am most annoyed yet greatly distressed at his behaviour this evening." She nodded and quickly exited the room in search of the one she loved.
*****
Legolas sat on the cool grass, gratefully accepting the moonlight. He let it wash over him as he stared up at the stars. He felt the tenseness that had claimed his body throughout dinner ease slightly, though not much. He hated that meal. When he looked upon her saddened, worried face and beheld her beauty once more, his pain had reiterated its rule over him. He couldn't bring himself to voice any thoughts to her anyway, but least not in front of so many people. He knew that by snubbing her, he would probably make matters worse, but there was no other choice. It took all his will power not to meet her concerned gaze, but he had lasted it out.
He knew people would gossip. He hadn't exactly shown the love he'd proclaimed that same day. In fact, he'd probably been more receptive to her when he'd apparently hated her. And his father wouldn't be happy. But he didn't care. He was so confused, dare he say frightened, about his feelings for Silva, what it meant, whether she felt as much for him as he did for her. Before he gave thought to anyone else's expectations or ideas, he needed to tend to his own welfare, lest suffer the consequences.
He felt like a young child on his first day of school. Everything was new and scary and different. You had to find the confidence to talk to people and make friends, but you didn't know where to find that confidence. Your parents, the people you had depended upon since birth had deserted you in this frightening new experience. You had to fend for yourself. You were on your own, isolated in a sea of sorrow and fear. 'Maybe that's what love is,' he thought. 'Perhaps the happiness and joy that song and story declare are only pretence and trickery. Or maybe that's what life is before love and the one you love is the foundation of that confidence you seek. And perhaps I'll never know.'
*****
Silva let her senses guide her. If she let herself become one with her surroundings, if she lost herself to everything but the thought of Legolas, she'd find him. She knew now that the previous evening, they'd not only joined bodies, but mind and soul also. She could feel the pain and confusion that he was suffering. Then she stopped and absorbed the silence around her. A voice was speaking, it was neither male nor female, it was simply a voice. Where was it coming from? It took her several seconds to realise she was not hearing a voice aloud, but within her own head.
'Maybe that's what love is. Perhaps the happiness and joy that song and story declare are only pretence and trickery. Or maybe that's what life is before love and the one you love is the foundation of that confidence you seek. And perhaps I'll never know.'
Her brow knitted in puzzlement as she heard the words repeated. She understood the sentiment completely, but was still shocked. At one time she could have related to it, associated with the doubt, that is until she found her soulmate. 'He doesn't believe,' she thought, as she finally worked out the meaning of the words. She was filled with a sudden determination to find him. He couldn't stop believing now, now that she had finally accepted. She didn't know what she would say to him, but she had to make him see. 'He is my soulmate. I will make him see.'
*****
'Soulmate'. Where had that come from? Amidst the anguish and distress, the word had suddenly surfaced in his mind. He'd never considered it that way. Could Silva be his soulmate?
The Elves believed that there was one person you were destined to be with. Not everyone was lucky enough to meet their soulmate, sometimes they would be born several years apart, they could be of completely different and opposing races, but there was always one person perfect for you. That was the Soulmate Principle.
As Silva's sister rightly thought, how could he live up to her? He didn't even match up to the Lady Galadriel, the most important Elf in Middle Earth, and she was higher in rank even than her. What could he offer her that wasn't already hers except for loss of dignity and status? She would be exiled and stripped of her powers. A fallen Maiar spirit. That was not something to be proud of. He couldn't ask that of her, not for the sake of love. It was too high a price. She held his heart and forever would, but he would not ask anything of her in return. It was not right to.
But how could he put that into words that she couldn't counter? For should he reveal any of his thoughts to her, she would surely say she didn't care for status or dignity, she'd rather have love. He had to make her see that he couldn't offer her anything of worth.
*****
She watched him battle with his torment. His posture was perfect, though his chin rested on his knees. The pale moonlight made his hair shine like liquid silver and it illuminated his face to reveal a distressing look of misery and suffering. No words needed to be voiced for her to know what filled his mind. She felt the burden of his worries and knew she must dispel them immediately.
He knew she stood watching him, but he made no action of recognition. She would approach him soon and he would be ready to say what was needed.
She silently seated herself behind him and placed her hands on his back. As she had guessed, his muscles were taut and unyielding. She slowly began to work her hands over his back, releasing the tension. She felt him relax beneath her administrations and heard him sigh, almost inaudibly. She smiled to herself.
She definitely had healing hands. His former worries began to dissolve and the only thing that mattered was them. He knew he had to speak to her, but right now he was enjoying her gentle yet firm strokes too much.
When she stopped, he felt her arms encircle his waist and she leant against his back, resting her head on his shoulder. It was a moment he wished would last forever. Anyone who looked upon them would think they were statues, frozen in time, so still they sat. And everyone would agree that they were undoubtedly perfect for one another. Undoubtedly soulmates.
"Why do you question our love?" she eventually said, after several minutes had passed, though they still did not move. "Do you not believe in me?"
"I believe in you," he reassured her. "It is myself that I question. My credibility. I am not good enough for you."
"Why?" The question caught him off guard. He paused while he considered his answer.
"Because you are Istari and I am of the Elves," he finally said.
"In matters of the heart, why does race mean anything?" she said. There was no conviction in her voice, there was more curiosity. As though she wished to know and thought he could tell her. He couldn't. She continued without an answer. "If a love is shared and both people respect and cherish the other wholly, nothing else matters. You have my heart, Legolas. I don't care about what is right. I don't care for status. All I care about is knowing you return my love."
"I do return our love." He turned his head and captured her lips.
Silva sat at the dining table at Thranduil's right hand, though there was an empty seat between them. Now she was courting the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, she had a seat of honour. Before she had sat reasonably close, but this was recognisable to everyone as renown. Though, she'd caused quite a stir when she entered the hall alone. Where was the young Prince? Why wasn't she with him? She found the muttering and whispering throughout the room quite unsettling, though she made sure it didn't show. Once in her new seat, she kept her head lowered and stared at the evidently fascinating pattern on the table cloth.
"Good evening, my l- Thranduil," she said.
"Good evening, Silva," he announced. "Where is he?" he muttered as she sat.
"I don't know," she replied in a hush. "I haven't seen him since he left this morning."
"You mean he hasn't been to see you?"
"No. I didn't expect him to. He'll seek me when he's ready."
"Damn the boy," cursed the King. "He had betted turn up soon."
"It's not his fault. Don't be too harsh on him."
"You're too kind," said a voice. "Good evening father, Silvawen." They looked up and were shocked to see Legolas standing watching them vacantly. They were shocked because the voice hadn't sounded like his. It was expressionless. Some may have mistaken it for sarcastic or cruel, but it was neither. It was just... empty. He took his rightful place in between Silva and Thranduil and didn't utter another word for the entire meal.
The King began to worry for his son. He'd never seen him like this before. He watched as Silva tried countless times to catch Legolas' eye, but to no avail. His natural aura was dim. It was almost as though his soul had been taken from his body and all that remained of the Elf was an outer shell. If not his soul, then his heart.
When the meal was ended and the necessary announcements had been made, Legolas excused himself. To Silva's dismay, this time he did not even acknowledge her presence. She held back threatening tears and looked to the King expectantly.
"Thranduil?" she said, her voice quivering with pending emotion.
"Go after him," he said. "See if you can knock some sense into him. I am most annoyed yet greatly distressed at his behaviour this evening." She nodded and quickly exited the room in search of the one she loved.
*****
Legolas sat on the cool grass, gratefully accepting the moonlight. He let it wash over him as he stared up at the stars. He felt the tenseness that had claimed his body throughout dinner ease slightly, though not much. He hated that meal. When he looked upon her saddened, worried face and beheld her beauty once more, his pain had reiterated its rule over him. He couldn't bring himself to voice any thoughts to her anyway, but least not in front of so many people. He knew that by snubbing her, he would probably make matters worse, but there was no other choice. It took all his will power not to meet her concerned gaze, but he had lasted it out.
He knew people would gossip. He hadn't exactly shown the love he'd proclaimed that same day. In fact, he'd probably been more receptive to her when he'd apparently hated her. And his father wouldn't be happy. But he didn't care. He was so confused, dare he say frightened, about his feelings for Silva, what it meant, whether she felt as much for him as he did for her. Before he gave thought to anyone else's expectations or ideas, he needed to tend to his own welfare, lest suffer the consequences.
He felt like a young child on his first day of school. Everything was new and scary and different. You had to find the confidence to talk to people and make friends, but you didn't know where to find that confidence. Your parents, the people you had depended upon since birth had deserted you in this frightening new experience. You had to fend for yourself. You were on your own, isolated in a sea of sorrow and fear. 'Maybe that's what love is,' he thought. 'Perhaps the happiness and joy that song and story declare are only pretence and trickery. Or maybe that's what life is before love and the one you love is the foundation of that confidence you seek. And perhaps I'll never know.'
*****
Silva let her senses guide her. If she let herself become one with her surroundings, if she lost herself to everything but the thought of Legolas, she'd find him. She knew now that the previous evening, they'd not only joined bodies, but mind and soul also. She could feel the pain and confusion that he was suffering. Then she stopped and absorbed the silence around her. A voice was speaking, it was neither male nor female, it was simply a voice. Where was it coming from? It took her several seconds to realise she was not hearing a voice aloud, but within her own head.
'Maybe that's what love is. Perhaps the happiness and joy that song and story declare are only pretence and trickery. Or maybe that's what life is before love and the one you love is the foundation of that confidence you seek. And perhaps I'll never know.'
Her brow knitted in puzzlement as she heard the words repeated. She understood the sentiment completely, but was still shocked. At one time she could have related to it, associated with the doubt, that is until she found her soulmate. 'He doesn't believe,' she thought, as she finally worked out the meaning of the words. She was filled with a sudden determination to find him. He couldn't stop believing now, now that she had finally accepted. She didn't know what she would say to him, but she had to make him see. 'He is my soulmate. I will make him see.'
*****
'Soulmate'. Where had that come from? Amidst the anguish and distress, the word had suddenly surfaced in his mind. He'd never considered it that way. Could Silva be his soulmate?
The Elves believed that there was one person you were destined to be with. Not everyone was lucky enough to meet their soulmate, sometimes they would be born several years apart, they could be of completely different and opposing races, but there was always one person perfect for you. That was the Soulmate Principle.
As Silva's sister rightly thought, how could he live up to her? He didn't even match up to the Lady Galadriel, the most important Elf in Middle Earth, and she was higher in rank even than her. What could he offer her that wasn't already hers except for loss of dignity and status? She would be exiled and stripped of her powers. A fallen Maiar spirit. That was not something to be proud of. He couldn't ask that of her, not for the sake of love. It was too high a price. She held his heart and forever would, but he would not ask anything of her in return. It was not right to.
But how could he put that into words that she couldn't counter? For should he reveal any of his thoughts to her, she would surely say she didn't care for status or dignity, she'd rather have love. He had to make her see that he couldn't offer her anything of worth.
*****
She watched him battle with his torment. His posture was perfect, though his chin rested on his knees. The pale moonlight made his hair shine like liquid silver and it illuminated his face to reveal a distressing look of misery and suffering. No words needed to be voiced for her to know what filled his mind. She felt the burden of his worries and knew she must dispel them immediately.
He knew she stood watching him, but he made no action of recognition. She would approach him soon and he would be ready to say what was needed.
She silently seated herself behind him and placed her hands on his back. As she had guessed, his muscles were taut and unyielding. She slowly began to work her hands over his back, releasing the tension. She felt him relax beneath her administrations and heard him sigh, almost inaudibly. She smiled to herself.
She definitely had healing hands. His former worries began to dissolve and the only thing that mattered was them. He knew he had to speak to her, but right now he was enjoying her gentle yet firm strokes too much.
When she stopped, he felt her arms encircle his waist and she leant against his back, resting her head on his shoulder. It was a moment he wished would last forever. Anyone who looked upon them would think they were statues, frozen in time, so still they sat. And everyone would agree that they were undoubtedly perfect for one another. Undoubtedly soulmates.
"Why do you question our love?" she eventually said, after several minutes had passed, though they still did not move. "Do you not believe in me?"
"I believe in you," he reassured her. "It is myself that I question. My credibility. I am not good enough for you."
"Why?" The question caught him off guard. He paused while he considered his answer.
"Because you are Istari and I am of the Elves," he finally said.
"In matters of the heart, why does race mean anything?" she said. There was no conviction in her voice, there was more curiosity. As though she wished to know and thought he could tell her. He couldn't. She continued without an answer. "If a love is shared and both people respect and cherish the other wholly, nothing else matters. You have my heart, Legolas. I don't care about what is right. I don't care for status. All I care about is knowing you return my love."
"I do return our love." He turned his head and captured her lips.