Disclaimer: It all belongs to the Tolkien Estate. I make no money
from this story.
Legolas released the reins of his mount and reached into the collar of his traveling shirt to rub the back of his gritty neck. He grunted in frustration. *I'm as disgusting as a mortal*, he lamented silently, *Eru above, I would give my best bow for a long bath right now*.
Several weeks on the trail had left Legolas weary, but glad to be nearing his home. He was returning to Mirkwood from Ithilien, where many of his people had chosen to relocate after the Great War. It had felt good to see the work of his own hands bring new life to that once glorious realm. Many of his subjects had marveled to see the high prince working side by side with lower elves and men in building structures and taming the lush vegetation into beautiful gardens. Legolas looked down at the black dirt still embedded under his fingernails and smiled wistfully. Maybe his current state of disarray was not so terrible, for he had earned it honestly.
They were nearing the center of the city and Legolas cast a warm smile at many that he passed. He had missed this place, as he always did when he went away. This forest had long been a dark and suspicious region in the eyes of outsiders, but Legolas loved it dearly. The homes of elves lay scattered between the towering trees, some humble, and some elaborate, but all a little happier now that evil had been dispelled from Eryn Lasgalen. His father's palace now loomed above him, the structure carved into the solid rock of a cliff face. Its caverns and wide corridors went well into the earth, an exciting sanctuary for the young prince throughout his childhood.
Legolas expected a cheerful welcome by the palace guards as he neared the gate, but narrowed his eyes with a sense of foreboding. Half the normal complement of guards was present, and those left behind looked haggard and anxious. Legolas glanced at the small group of attendants that had accompanied him on his journey. They returned his gaze nervously, also sensing some change. The guards let them pass, and Legolas hurriedly dismounted. Passing the reins to one of his companions, he marched into the palace without a word.
As he came down the last twisting corridor to the door of the council chambers, Legolas slowed, hearing the commotion within. Voices laced with anger or fear were jumbled into a chaotic clamor. *It doesn't look like I'll get that bath after all*, Legolas thought with a sigh. He straightened his back and entered the room, scanning it until his bright blue eyes fell on the form of his father.
King Thranduil was barking an order to one of his advisors when he spotted his son. His voice faltered as he watched the blond elf bow low before him and pause to take in all that was happening.
"Father..."
"Legolas, I-I must speak with you. Come with me," he turned briefly back to the advisor, "Send every healer you can spare out to the wounded, and tell Medeldir to pull his companies back away from the mountain. I won't let this disaster get any more out of hand, so tell him to do nothing until he receives further orders. Understood?"
"Yes, my liege," the calm elf responded. He did not show the usual intimidation felt in Thranduil's intense presence, and Legolas recognized him as a seasoned aide.
Legolas followed in silence as his father spun out of the room, his dark green cloak flowing behind him. They went down the hall to the ornate throne room and Thranduil sat slowly. He leaned forward to rub his tired eyes with his thumb and forefinger, and Legolas's frown deepened. He had not seen the King troubled so in a very long time.
"Legolas," Thranduil began, finally lifting his dark blue eyes to those of his son, "It is good to see you. I am sorry I have nothing but dire news for you on your return. I do not know how to break this to you carefully, so I will just tell you the facts. The Dwarves mining and living in the mountains in the north of our realm have been multiplying for many years, as we well know. Captain Talendil had taken an interest in this and led his army to this region to assess the situation. His assessment turned into a full-scale attack."
Legolas's eyes widened, "An attack? Did he have council approval?"
"Of course not. But, you know as well as I do Talendil's hatred for Dwarves. He is a prideful elf, he desired no permission from us to pursue his glory and destroy the Dwarves."
"Were they destroyed," Legolas asked, himself very fond of Dwarves. His expressive eyes were filled with concern.
"Quite nearly," Thranduil replied, his voice emotionless, "But, Talendil...Talendil was captured, Legolas. We also took the Dwarf chieftain's daughter prisoner and two of his commanders. Many were killed and wounded and now it is a stand-off."
Legolas closed his eyes, fear lancing through his chest. Talendil, his close friend since childhood, had quickly risen through the ranks to replace his father, Eregos, as captain of Mirkwood's army. He was an emotional commander; even moreso than his father had been in life, but now it would seem that this had been his downfall. Legolas knew of the Dwarvish desire for vengeance. He held out little hope that Talendil would come out of that mountain alive. But, he would not give up on his friend so easily.
"Father, we must negotiate his release, we must tell them this was a mistake and that we desire to talk." Legolas's eyes pleaded with Thranduil, silently begging temperance from his normally fiery father.
Thranduil growled low in his throat. "I would see every last one of those Dwarves struck down. But, I would sacrifice Talendil in the act, and I will not disrespect Eregos's memory like that." Thranduil's eyes seemed suddenly very far away, "I promised him I would look after the boy when he died...do you remember?"
Legolas nodded shortly, not really wanting to relive the day his father's dearest friend had perished. It had been Legolas's first real battle after coming of age, and he had left that battlefield a changed elf. It had hardened him, put darkness in his heart.
"Yes, Father. I remember."
They were silent for a moment, both trying to ward off the disturbing memories. Finally, Legolas looked up.
"Let me speak to them."
"Absolutely not..." Thranduil sputtered, but Legolas barreled forward.
"Father, you know I understand Dwarves better than anyone here. I know their customs, their body language."
"Yes, Legolas, we all know of your friendship with Gimli, Gloin's son. But, do not forget your duties here. I could not risk my son and heir going into such a dangerous place alone, I would be a fool to even consider it."
Legolas opened his mouth to protest further, but Thranduil leveled him with a firm stare and shook his head. Legolas's face suddenly changed, his features taking on a calculating calm.
"Moraelin could do it."
Thranduil's warning gaze turned more menacing.
"That cursed child will never re-enter my city. Not while I sit in this throne."
"She is the only one who could resolve this situation without further bloodshed. You know it as well as I," Legolas narrowed his eyes, "If you want to see your captain alive again, you will have to put aside your feelings about Moraelin and let me find her."
Thranduil scoffed, "You really think you will find her this time? After she left the city, you searched for over two years and returned with nothing. What makes you think this will be any different? And, what makes you think she is still alive? No one has heard any word of her for centuries. Talendil is better off without his filthy half-sister, she will not save him."
Legolas shook his head slowly, "She will. And I will find her. When I was last in Rivendell, Arwen told me Moraelin had been brought in badly wounded a few years earlier. Elrond tended her and she was known to stay somewhere in that area, accompanied by Aldruid of the Dunedain."
"I won't allow this," Thranduil stated coldly.
"If you want to keep your promise to Eregos you will," Legolas said firmly, "Give me some time...stall the council and stall the Dwarves. There is no one better to mediate with the Dwarves. When I return with her, you will see that I am right."
Thranduil sat back for a brooding moment, digesting his son's words, but even more, the uncharacteristic defiance with which they had been said. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Thranduil finally said, "It is a fool's errand on which you go...but if you feel you must do this I will not stop you. I will stall the council. I will tell them to wait. But, passing Moraelin off as a mediator I leave up to you. And I wish you luck with it."
Legolas did not comment on the sarcasm in his father's voice, although he wanted to. Instead, he bowed before the king and left to prepare for the road. Again.
* * * *
* * *
Legolas had returned to his quarters to quickly change into fresh clothes and sharpen his knives. He glanced woefully at his bed; it tempted him after weeks of sleeping on the ground. But, his eyes were soon drawn to his dresser top. It held the few material things that were truly dear to him; his first bow, the arrow with which he had won the great archery tournament at Caras Galadhon, and a seashell CĂrdan had given to him when he was a child. On one corner, neatly folded, was the gray cloak gifted to him in Lothlorien when he was one of the Nine Walkers. He felt a smile cross his fair face, thinking about his dear friends and all of their adventures. He lifted the cloak and cast it around his shoulders. *This might come in handy*, Legolas thought as he fastened it closed with the beautiful leaf pin.
He had retrieved his pack and was about to turn away when his eyes were reluctantly caught by one last trinket. A small glass bottle etched with swirling designs cast glittering specks of light on the wall behind it. It had a polished wooden stopper set with a single sapphire. His hand shook a little as he reached for it. It had been a long time since he had last allowed himself to open the bottle. He had considered packing it away, hiding it in some dark closet where it could not cause him pain. But, he could never bring himself to do it.
A name was etched in the glass. Kirali. The bottle had belonged to Moraelin's mother, a Dwarf who died in bearing Moraelin. He remembered how it had saddened Moraelin that she never knew her mother or the ways of her mother's people. But, Legolas's own mother, Queen Myallore, had saved this bottle of Kirali's lilac oil perfume for Moraelin to have. The girl had treated it reverently, dabbing on the tiniest amount every morning. Legolas removed the stopper and frowned as the smell reached his nostrils. In the countless years that Moraelin had been away, the smell of lilacs had never failed to cause a reaction in him. Sometimes joyful, sometimes mournful, but always the feelings were strong. A memory flashed through Legolas's mind, he saw dark brown eyes smiling up at him, a short girl with wild black hair leaning on a pitchfork. She had always loved working in the stables, although her father's standing as Captain made such work unnecessary for her. But, the horses loved her, he remembered that. The memory was from a time while Captain Eregos still lived, and Moraelin was happy. After her father fell, there was no one left to protect her and she was alienated by the full-elves in Mirkwood. Even Talendil, her half brother, had scorned his Dwarvish sister after a time. Moraelin's life had fallen apart, and not even Legolas could help her hold it together.
Legolas studied the bottle, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side, and it suddenly struck him that he might soon see Moraelin again. He would no longer have to nourish stale memories of his time with her; she might once again be at his side. Legolas carefully set the bottle back in its place. He could not let his hopes soar too high. Maybe his father was right. Maybe she was dead or would turn him away if he did find her. Legolas set his jaw and swiftly left the room. Speculation would do him no good. He just had to try.
Legolas released the reins of his mount and reached into the collar of his traveling shirt to rub the back of his gritty neck. He grunted in frustration. *I'm as disgusting as a mortal*, he lamented silently, *Eru above, I would give my best bow for a long bath right now*.
Several weeks on the trail had left Legolas weary, but glad to be nearing his home. He was returning to Mirkwood from Ithilien, where many of his people had chosen to relocate after the Great War. It had felt good to see the work of his own hands bring new life to that once glorious realm. Many of his subjects had marveled to see the high prince working side by side with lower elves and men in building structures and taming the lush vegetation into beautiful gardens. Legolas looked down at the black dirt still embedded under his fingernails and smiled wistfully. Maybe his current state of disarray was not so terrible, for he had earned it honestly.
They were nearing the center of the city and Legolas cast a warm smile at many that he passed. He had missed this place, as he always did when he went away. This forest had long been a dark and suspicious region in the eyes of outsiders, but Legolas loved it dearly. The homes of elves lay scattered between the towering trees, some humble, and some elaborate, but all a little happier now that evil had been dispelled from Eryn Lasgalen. His father's palace now loomed above him, the structure carved into the solid rock of a cliff face. Its caverns and wide corridors went well into the earth, an exciting sanctuary for the young prince throughout his childhood.
Legolas expected a cheerful welcome by the palace guards as he neared the gate, but narrowed his eyes with a sense of foreboding. Half the normal complement of guards was present, and those left behind looked haggard and anxious. Legolas glanced at the small group of attendants that had accompanied him on his journey. They returned his gaze nervously, also sensing some change. The guards let them pass, and Legolas hurriedly dismounted. Passing the reins to one of his companions, he marched into the palace without a word.
As he came down the last twisting corridor to the door of the council chambers, Legolas slowed, hearing the commotion within. Voices laced with anger or fear were jumbled into a chaotic clamor. *It doesn't look like I'll get that bath after all*, Legolas thought with a sigh. He straightened his back and entered the room, scanning it until his bright blue eyes fell on the form of his father.
King Thranduil was barking an order to one of his advisors when he spotted his son. His voice faltered as he watched the blond elf bow low before him and pause to take in all that was happening.
"Father..."
"Legolas, I-I must speak with you. Come with me," he turned briefly back to the advisor, "Send every healer you can spare out to the wounded, and tell Medeldir to pull his companies back away from the mountain. I won't let this disaster get any more out of hand, so tell him to do nothing until he receives further orders. Understood?"
"Yes, my liege," the calm elf responded. He did not show the usual intimidation felt in Thranduil's intense presence, and Legolas recognized him as a seasoned aide.
Legolas followed in silence as his father spun out of the room, his dark green cloak flowing behind him. They went down the hall to the ornate throne room and Thranduil sat slowly. He leaned forward to rub his tired eyes with his thumb and forefinger, and Legolas's frown deepened. He had not seen the King troubled so in a very long time.
"Legolas," Thranduil began, finally lifting his dark blue eyes to those of his son, "It is good to see you. I am sorry I have nothing but dire news for you on your return. I do not know how to break this to you carefully, so I will just tell you the facts. The Dwarves mining and living in the mountains in the north of our realm have been multiplying for many years, as we well know. Captain Talendil had taken an interest in this and led his army to this region to assess the situation. His assessment turned into a full-scale attack."
Legolas's eyes widened, "An attack? Did he have council approval?"
"Of course not. But, you know as well as I do Talendil's hatred for Dwarves. He is a prideful elf, he desired no permission from us to pursue his glory and destroy the Dwarves."
"Were they destroyed," Legolas asked, himself very fond of Dwarves. His expressive eyes were filled with concern.
"Quite nearly," Thranduil replied, his voice emotionless, "But, Talendil...Talendil was captured, Legolas. We also took the Dwarf chieftain's daughter prisoner and two of his commanders. Many were killed and wounded and now it is a stand-off."
Legolas closed his eyes, fear lancing through his chest. Talendil, his close friend since childhood, had quickly risen through the ranks to replace his father, Eregos, as captain of Mirkwood's army. He was an emotional commander; even moreso than his father had been in life, but now it would seem that this had been his downfall. Legolas knew of the Dwarvish desire for vengeance. He held out little hope that Talendil would come out of that mountain alive. But, he would not give up on his friend so easily.
"Father, we must negotiate his release, we must tell them this was a mistake and that we desire to talk." Legolas's eyes pleaded with Thranduil, silently begging temperance from his normally fiery father.
Thranduil growled low in his throat. "I would see every last one of those Dwarves struck down. But, I would sacrifice Talendil in the act, and I will not disrespect Eregos's memory like that." Thranduil's eyes seemed suddenly very far away, "I promised him I would look after the boy when he died...do you remember?"
Legolas nodded shortly, not really wanting to relive the day his father's dearest friend had perished. It had been Legolas's first real battle after coming of age, and he had left that battlefield a changed elf. It had hardened him, put darkness in his heart.
"Yes, Father. I remember."
They were silent for a moment, both trying to ward off the disturbing memories. Finally, Legolas looked up.
"Let me speak to them."
"Absolutely not..." Thranduil sputtered, but Legolas barreled forward.
"Father, you know I understand Dwarves better than anyone here. I know their customs, their body language."
"Yes, Legolas, we all know of your friendship with Gimli, Gloin's son. But, do not forget your duties here. I could not risk my son and heir going into such a dangerous place alone, I would be a fool to even consider it."
Legolas opened his mouth to protest further, but Thranduil leveled him with a firm stare and shook his head. Legolas's face suddenly changed, his features taking on a calculating calm.
"Moraelin could do it."
Thranduil's warning gaze turned more menacing.
"That cursed child will never re-enter my city. Not while I sit in this throne."
"She is the only one who could resolve this situation without further bloodshed. You know it as well as I," Legolas narrowed his eyes, "If you want to see your captain alive again, you will have to put aside your feelings about Moraelin and let me find her."
Thranduil scoffed, "You really think you will find her this time? After she left the city, you searched for over two years and returned with nothing. What makes you think this will be any different? And, what makes you think she is still alive? No one has heard any word of her for centuries. Talendil is better off without his filthy half-sister, she will not save him."
Legolas shook his head slowly, "She will. And I will find her. When I was last in Rivendell, Arwen told me Moraelin had been brought in badly wounded a few years earlier. Elrond tended her and she was known to stay somewhere in that area, accompanied by Aldruid of the Dunedain."
"I won't allow this," Thranduil stated coldly.
"If you want to keep your promise to Eregos you will," Legolas said firmly, "Give me some time...stall the council and stall the Dwarves. There is no one better to mediate with the Dwarves. When I return with her, you will see that I am right."
Thranduil sat back for a brooding moment, digesting his son's words, but even more, the uncharacteristic defiance with which they had been said. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Thranduil finally said, "It is a fool's errand on which you go...but if you feel you must do this I will not stop you. I will stall the council. I will tell them to wait. But, passing Moraelin off as a mediator I leave up to you. And I wish you luck with it."
Legolas did not comment on the sarcasm in his father's voice, although he wanted to. Instead, he bowed before the king and left to prepare for the road. Again.
* * * *
* * *
Legolas had returned to his quarters to quickly change into fresh clothes and sharpen his knives. He glanced woefully at his bed; it tempted him after weeks of sleeping on the ground. But, his eyes were soon drawn to his dresser top. It held the few material things that were truly dear to him; his first bow, the arrow with which he had won the great archery tournament at Caras Galadhon, and a seashell CĂrdan had given to him when he was a child. On one corner, neatly folded, was the gray cloak gifted to him in Lothlorien when he was one of the Nine Walkers. He felt a smile cross his fair face, thinking about his dear friends and all of their adventures. He lifted the cloak and cast it around his shoulders. *This might come in handy*, Legolas thought as he fastened it closed with the beautiful leaf pin.
He had retrieved his pack and was about to turn away when his eyes were reluctantly caught by one last trinket. A small glass bottle etched with swirling designs cast glittering specks of light on the wall behind it. It had a polished wooden stopper set with a single sapphire. His hand shook a little as he reached for it. It had been a long time since he had last allowed himself to open the bottle. He had considered packing it away, hiding it in some dark closet where it could not cause him pain. But, he could never bring himself to do it.
A name was etched in the glass. Kirali. The bottle had belonged to Moraelin's mother, a Dwarf who died in bearing Moraelin. He remembered how it had saddened Moraelin that she never knew her mother or the ways of her mother's people. But, Legolas's own mother, Queen Myallore, had saved this bottle of Kirali's lilac oil perfume for Moraelin to have. The girl had treated it reverently, dabbing on the tiniest amount every morning. Legolas removed the stopper and frowned as the smell reached his nostrils. In the countless years that Moraelin had been away, the smell of lilacs had never failed to cause a reaction in him. Sometimes joyful, sometimes mournful, but always the feelings were strong. A memory flashed through Legolas's mind, he saw dark brown eyes smiling up at him, a short girl with wild black hair leaning on a pitchfork. She had always loved working in the stables, although her father's standing as Captain made such work unnecessary for her. But, the horses loved her, he remembered that. The memory was from a time while Captain Eregos still lived, and Moraelin was happy. After her father fell, there was no one left to protect her and she was alienated by the full-elves in Mirkwood. Even Talendil, her half brother, had scorned his Dwarvish sister after a time. Moraelin's life had fallen apart, and not even Legolas could help her hold it together.
Legolas studied the bottle, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side, and it suddenly struck him that he might soon see Moraelin again. He would no longer have to nourish stale memories of his time with her; she might once again be at his side. Legolas carefully set the bottle back in its place. He could not let his hopes soar too high. Maybe his father was right. Maybe she was dead or would turn him away if he did find her. Legolas set his jaw and swiftly left the room. Speculation would do him no good. He just had to try.
