Ai! Lasselanta thought as she closed the door behind her. That elf! I know not what to do with him! She sighed and made her way back to the main room to check on Gimli. The dwarf was sleeping more deeply now. Lasselanta knew this because his snoring had gotten louder. She smiled ruefully, half glad of the company, half annoyed at her disturbed peace. She dismissed the second half and gently covered Gimli with a warm blanket, then grinned to see Celebrindal curled up on the dwarf's feet, keeping them warm. Lasselanta leaned down and tousled the wolf's ears before heading back to her workshop.
Legolas paced about, restless and unable to sleep. Lasselanta's room was rather spare in comparison with the opulence of his father's halls, but it was comforting in it's simplicity. She had returned her twin swords to their mount on the wall by the door. Legolas curiously drew one from it's simple leather scabbard. It had a one-handed hilt that was wrapped in odd dark blue leather. The pommel was metal inset with a polished midnight blue lapis lazuli that was veined with white. The crossbar was simple and straight with flared ends, and the blade itself was of a beautiful watered steel, straight and tapered. It was flexible enough to slash and resist shattering, but strong enough to thrust and parry well. It was gorgeous and well-balanced, and Legolas was almost positive Lasselanta had made it herself. The straight blade was odd in a pair of twin swords, which were usually used for slashing, but Legolas had no doubts as to whether or not that particular design inhibited fighting. He had seen enough of Lasselanta's fighting to know that it did not inhibit her in the least. He returned the sword to it's sheath and turned to the decorative wood panels of the alcove's doors. He noted that the vine design was carved exceptionally deeply for wood, as if the carver had too heavy a hand. It was, nonetheless, reminiscent of Rivendell's penchant for covering things in stylistic vines, but this was simpler, less ornate.
Legolas moved on to something half-hidden in the shadows. Upon his approach of it, he was delighted to see that it was a moss garden set in a lovely stone basin. Stones created texture and landscape while different lichens crawled over them and lush and exotic mosses thrived in the dark and the damp. Legolas was sure Lasselanta had traveled far to find so many different varieties, for only three he knew of grew on these plains. She misses the green things of her home. he thought. Then, he realized he did not know where her home was.
There was little else of interest in the room, so Legolas settled down into the nest Lasselanta had so kindly created and stared up into the skylight, prepared for a bevy of Elvish dreams he was certain would not be restful.
Lasselanta entered her workshop, only to be assaulted by the familiar smell of hot metal and wet stone. One half was devoted to a small forge, just large enough to work a sword. The other half was covered in damp dust and stone chips, with various sizes and types of stone blocks lined against the opposite wall. Lasselanta only ran the forge on overcast days because the risk of the smoke being seen was too great. Today was clear and sunny, so she decided to carve.
She rolled up her sleeves, stripped off her split skirt to reveal soft brown leggings beneath, and wrapped a leather apron around her waist to protect her from the sharp shards of stone. She was working on an intricate plate in the shape of a leaf, using green jasper. A large round table was littered with stone debris and various chisels, rasps, charcoal, and hammers. The plate was still in its rough state: merely a low rectangle of unpolished jasper with charcoal sketchings in the shape of a leaf on it. The edges had already been started and the outer form was beginning to take shape. She sat on her cushioned stool and leaned over the stone, chisel poised, when the door opened.
Lasselanta jumped at the sound and the chisel jarred against the stone, chipping it, and went sliding across the table. She looked up, annoyed, to see Legolas in the doorway, silhouetted by the lamp directly behind him.
Seeing the look upon her face, Legolas backed up, murmured an apology, and started to close the door.
"Wait," Lasselanta called softly. "Come in." Legolas silently obeyed, but stayed near the door. "Did you need anything?"
"No," he replied quietly with a small smile. "I couldn't sleep."
"Allow me to hazard a guess," Lasselanta said knowingly, "the sun kept you up?"
Legolas smiled ruefully, "I fear I have grown too used to darkness." His eyes turned to the rows of her work on the shelves against the far wall. His eyes reflected admiration, wonder, and the smallest hint of awe. "You work stone," then his eyes lit on the forge, "and metal?"
"Odd crafts for an elf," Lasselanta stated with a strained smile. "I heard it all too often."
"From whom?" Legolas queried softly.
Lasselanta laughed joylessly, "You wouldn't understand." Then she changed the subject, curious, "Why have you 'grown too used to darkness?'"
"Sauron was darkness enough for us all, don't you think?" Legolas questioned. "Imagine being on the forefronts."
Lasselanta looked bewildered, "Who is Sauron?"
Legolas was shocked, "You do not know the Dark Lord?"
Lasselanta laughed again, still confused, "I have been away from 'civilization' for centuries, remember?"
He thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you remember the tales of the One Ring?"
"Yes, of course," replied Lasselanta. "Though I fear my memory may be faulty on some parts."
"Sauron was the creator of the One Ring," Legolas said carefully, hoping to trigger her memory. Luckily, it worked.
"Oh yes!" Lasselanta exclaimed. "Of course! Back in the Second Age! Though," she laughed ruefully herself, "I wasn't even alive during the War of the Ring."
"The Ring was found," Legolas stated flatly. "And I was one of a group sent to go into the depths of Mordor to destroy it. The ringbearer was a hobbit..."
"A what?" asked Lasselanta, now completely confused.
"A... perian," he tried to clarify.
"A halfling?" Lasselanta attempted. "But what does that mean?"
"They are the missing race," Legolas replied with a grin. "There are Elves, Men, Dwarves, Ents and Hobbits." Lasselanta gave him an incredulous look, but he continued, "We traveled far through many hindrances and lost four of our number, only three returned. The group soon broke up, I followed with Aragorn and Gimli to search for two hobbits that had been captured by orcs. We went into Rohan..."
"Wait," Lasselanta interrupted again. Legolas patiently waited, "I know Gimli, but who is Aragorn?"
"Aragorn is Isildur's Heir," he explained. "He fought bravely in the battle of Helm's Deep and is now King of Gondor."
"And Rohan is a country of men?" she asked.
"Yes, they are the Horselords of the east. May I continue?"
"Oh! Yes, please do."
"As I was saying, we followed the orcs into Rohan, but they had been destroyed by the Rohirrim, and our hobbit friends had been lost, so we traveled to see King Theoden. We told him of the danger of Sauron, Sarumon, and the One Ring. He took his people to the stronghold of Helm's Deep and prepared to fend off any siege Sauron managed to muster. In the end, he mustered ten thousand orcs, but we held our own until Gandalf returned."
"I'm sorry," Lasselanta apologized, "but who are Gandalf and Sarumon?"
"They are wizards. Gandalf was once grey, and Sarumon white, but Sarumon grew corrupted and aided Sauron in his evil endeavors. Gandalf then defeated a balrog and became Gandalf the White, and he eventually cast Sarumon out of Isengard."
"Thank you," she said meekly and waited for him to continue.
"During the battle of Helm's Deep, two hobbits, Frodo and Sam, were traveling through Mordor, into Sauron's stronghold in order to cast the One Ring back into the fires of Mount Doom. We were the distraction. Luckily, Gandalf's plan worked, and Frodo and Sam somehow made it to Mount Doom and destroyed the Ring. I still don't know the whole story. But after that, the pervading darkness cleared, we were all still alive, and Aragorn was King." Legolas smiled, reminiscing. "One of his first orders as King was to send Gimli and me back to our homelands to bring back their beauty and strength in order to restore Osgiliath and the rest of Gondor."
"You left things out," Lasselanta teasingly reproved. "Someday I will hear the whole story, but that will do for now." Legolas smiled and retrieved her chisel. "Thank you," she said as he handed it to her. She poised the chisel again, about to strike, when she sighed and put it down. "I cannot concentrate. Perhaps you would like to go for a walk?"
Legolas' eyes lit up, "You mean, outside!"
Lasselanta grinned, "Yes, and perhaps you can teach that horse of yours some manners while we're out." With that, she led him back to the main room and could just feel the barely contained energy radiating from his lithe form. "I will have to blindfold you," Lasselanta warned as they walked and felt the energy dip a bit, then rise back up.
"I do not mind," Legolas confessed. "Just being outside and smelling fresh air is enough for me." Lasselanta smiled as they entered the room.
Gimli was still asleep and Legolas gave a wry grin to see Celebrindal curled up on his feet. The wolf opened his eyes and lifted his head, but didn't move. Lasselanta gestured for him to stay, then found the same length of supple leather she had blindfolded Legolas with early that morning. She held is up suggestively and he turned with a sigh, allowing her to blindfold him. Then she took his lean hand and led him up the stair to the outside world.
When they walked outside, Legolas tugged her hand to a stop and merely stood in the sunlight, letting the breeze ruffle his hair with a look of pure joy on his face. Lasselanta grinned, tugged his hand, and said, "Let's run."
Legolas needed no other urging. His Elven senses kept his footing and Lasselanta's hand guided his direction. Even with all his experience with travel and battle, Lasselanta nearly outran him. After a time that could've been an eternity or a few seconds, Legolas felt a slight tug on his hand as Lasselanta slowed, the stopped. Then she let go and untied the blindfold.
He was nearly blinded by the brilliance of the sunlight and the pure blue of the midmorning sky. He just stood and leaned into the wind, then found that they were on the top of a large outcropping of granite overlooking a small valley that was brushed in purple heather. Legolas could see for miles and miles from that point. He turned and looked at Lasselanta, who was grinning at him. She knew all along how much he had needed this.
"Thank you," he said simply, with his whole heart behind it. Her grin faded to a penetrating look, divining what she thought was there. When she found she was right, she smiled again, winked, and began to run again. Legolas couldn't resist giving chase.
She ran like a deer. Or a wolf, he couldn't decide which. Her footsteps never faltered, she ran with ease, and leapt with grace. Legolas was doing his tired best to keep up, but he knew that even fully refreshed he probably would not have been able to catch her.
Finally, she flew over the edge of a hill and disappeared. When Legolas reached the top, he paused and looked down to see an oak, and no Lasselanta. He climbed carefully down the hill, mindful that a huge leap like that could hurt his shoulder quite a bit, and looked about for her. It only took a few moments of silence to hear her breath and feel her energy radiating from the top of the huge oak. He pretended not to notice and wandered off around a hill. He then crept back up to the hill she jumped off of, then, when she was looking the other way, took a running leap into the tree behind her.
She spun around, then laughed and stood, surefooted even in the swaying branches. "You caught me," she said, not disappointed in the least.
"Of course I did," Legolas retorted playfully, "I'm a Prince of Mirkwood." Lasselanta stopped smiling at that and turned away to drop out of the tree. Legolas frowned and touched her arm, stopping her. "Why do you do that?"
"Do what?" Lasselanta asked dully.
"That," Legolas said, bewildered. "Let the light go out of you."
"I didn't know I had a light," Lasselanta retorted coolly and dropped to the ground. Legolas sighed, frustrated, then followed suit.
Lasselanta had already started walking back, so Legolas jogged to catch up. They walked in silence, Lasselanta keeping her eyes straight ahead while Legolas kept periodically giving her reproving, frustrated, and sorrowful looks.
After some time, Lasselanta finally stopped, took out the blindfold and said, "Time to go back." She was about to blindfold him when he angrily stopped her.
"No," he said firmly. "Not until you tell me what is wrong."
"Wrong?" she feigned. "Oh no, nothing is wrong...Your Highness," she spat. Legolas, taken aback at her anger just looked at her in hurt silence.
Then he asked, "That is why? Because I had the fortune or… or misfortune, to be born into royalty?"
"No," replied Lasselanta quietly. "Not born to royalty, but to a king."
She sat in the very top of an ancient maple, head above the canopy, young curls tousled by the breeze.
"Lasselanta!" a melodious voice called. "It's time for the feast!"
She merely sighed, took one last, longing look at the brilliant sunset, walked out to the edge of a branch, and dropped the 80 feet straight down.
"Lasselanta," a warm baritone reproved. "What have I told you about dropping out of trees without knowing who was is beneath them?"
"Sorry, ada," she apologized, not at all regretful.
"Ah," he dismissed ruefully. "You are just like your mother. Come, we will be late!" With that, he drew his arm around his beautiful wife and they paced to the main hall, graceful in their finery. She looked down at her own fine clothes that had been mussed by the climb and the drop and sighed wistfully. She would never be as beautiful as her mother. The hall was resplendent with all the signs of midsummer, which shone with brilliant blue, gold, and deep green. She and her parents took their places 'below the salt,' where the non-nobility sat in the realm of Thranduil. In their scorned case, they sat well below the salt. Her parents did not seem to care. But she saw the amused glances at her rumpled clothes, the slim white hands that hid smiles at her curly hair.
"Did you see that face?" she caught the barest hint of a whisper. "Must be that ugly human blood in her!" Her cheeks burned with anger and shame, but she continued onward and sat as gracefully as she could beside her lovely parents.
When the feast was concluded, the King himself stood to make an announcement. "I have a perimeter scouting mission that needs volunteers," he announced, while a hint of groan rumbled through the hall, for no one wanted to be taken away from the festivities that would last all week. But soon, 28 elves had volunteered; Thranduil needed two more.
"Tulcameldo," he ordered.
Her father stood, straight and proud, "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"I need your expert woodscraft on this mission," the King continued, then, as if an afterthought, added, "And bring that lovely wife of yours. It's time she took her place among the scouts." This was unfair, and the whole court knew it, for rarely was an unwilling lady ever called upon to scout, but her mother stood with dignity and replied, "I would be happy to accompany my husband, Your Majesty." Thranduil gave a small smile, and, with that finished, he moved on to the game announcements.
She was proud of her parents, but burned at the injustice done to them. When she had controlled her anger, she realized that they spoke of visiting one of their dwarf friends. She also noticed that surrounding elves who could hear the conversation were giving them sidelong glances and whispering amongst themselves. When she could no longer stand the embarrassment, she whispered somewhat to her mother, then stood and left, nearly running into a slim blond figure, and not caring.
Legolas looked at her, confused, and waited for her to go on. When she came out of her reverie, she looked on him with new eyes, trying to remember if there had been any other blond elves in Thranduil's court. Then, she saw that he expected her to continue, so she bitterly said, "I suppose you want the whole story."
"Yes," Legolas answered needlessly.
She sighed and sat cross-legged on the ground. When Legolas had joined her, she began, "Once upon a time, there was a young elf-maid who lived in Belfas." Legolas looked shocked and would've said something, but she held up her hand for silence and continued, "Her name was Elenanna. She met a man there, a silversmith, and they were wed. She happily bore him a daughter, whom she named Aralama. Some time later, the smith died (for he was mortal) and Elenanna was devastated. She traveled with a company of elves to the new stronghold of what is now Mirkwood." Legolas started at this, but held his own tongue this time. Lasselanta continued, "There Elenanna took to grief and soon died of it. Aralama was devastated, but had known about it for some time. After her mother's passing, Aralama married a wood elf named Tulcameldo who was a gifted scout. They later had a young girl named Lasselanta." Legolas then fully understood. "Lasselanta was an odd little girl. She had bright red curly hair and loved to dance and run; something most unfitting for a young child who should've been more disciplined. But as the years passed, she would learn only from her father, her mother, and her swordsmaster, Haldamaite. She loved the beauty of swordswork, and only took to it because Haldamaite once described it to her as a dance. She grew in decades and became better and better at the sword, tried the bow, mastered her father's woodcraft and gleaned stone- and metalwork from her mother. But if Lasselanta was an odd little girl, her parents were odder by far. Her mother worked stone, her father avoided other elves' company, they befriended humans and dwarves. Usually people ignored it (or them), but one person took special note. His name was Thranduil," Legolas have her a wise look as she continued, "and he didn't like the fact that Aralama and Tulcamedo were 'consorting' with dwarves and humans, or that Aralama, one of the very few elves in Mirkwood who could do metal- and stonecraft refused to use it to make beautiful things for him. So, when he had the opportunity to send them both away on what was supposed to be a routine scouting mission during the midsummer festival, he did. Unfortunately, both Aralama and Tulcamedo were killed in a massive orc raid. Haldamaite tried to break the news to Lasselanta gently, but she ran away, with Thranduil's hurtful words following her."
"My father would never be so petty as to hurt a child!" Legolas exclaimed indignantly. Lasselanta just gave him a bleak look veiled in thin anger and age-old hurt. She got up and started walking again, blinking furiously into the wind, hoping that it would dry her tears. "Lasselanta," Legolas repented, following. He sighed, "I couldn't know for sure, but that does not sound like the father I know. What did he say?" She maintained her silence. "Lasselanta," he took her hands, forcing her to turn and face him. "Please?"
Her eyes filled with tears again and she whispered, "He said I was too full of human blood to run far. He didn't care that Haldamaite tried to stop me or go after me. He despised me for my parents." Tears were running down her face and she didn't even notice. Legolas reached up, hesitated, then wiped her cheek with his thumb. She turned away and hastily dashed at her eyes, trying to suppress them.
"You are half-human?" Legolas queried softly.
Lasselanta rounded on him, frustrated and angry, "You are just like your father!" she accused, then began to run.
"Lasselanta!" Legolas called. "Wait!" He set out after her, but well behind to give her privacy and let her wear herself out. Unfortunately for Legolas, this took quite a bit longer than he expected. When she had finally run her fill, Lasselanta threw herself down onto a nearby grassy knoll and stared bleakly up at the cloudless sky. A few moments later Legolas walked up and sat down beside her. He sighed and said, "That is not why I asked." When he was met with silence, he continued, "I have never met anyone who was a peredhil besides Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, and Arwen. I was merely surprised to learn that you were peredhil."
"Why?" Lasselanta asked bitterly. "Isn't it obvious? Can't you tell by my utter lack of good looks? My clumsiness? My disgustingly curly hair?"
Legolas was surprised once again by her vehemence. "Who told you that?" he asked gently.
"Everyone," she retorted broadly, then quieted, "The other children, some of the adults. They were right, you know."
"No, I don't know," Legolas smiled. "Lasselanta, whoever told you such things were either malicious or jealous." Then, as an afterthought, "Most likely both. Whoever they were, those elves were definitely not acting as polite elves should."
"They still told the truth," she maintained.
"No," Legolas disagreed. "They didn't. You are probably the least clumsy person I have ever met, and your hair is lovely." He hesitated, then decided to wax poetic, "It is the color of Mirkwood's maple leaves in the fall, and the same tumbled texture of Roaros Falls."
Lasselanta propped herself up on her elbows, gave him a penetrating look, then gave him a pain-filled smirk and said, "You're just saying that to be polite or cheer me up or somewhat. And since you obviously neglected to mention my looks, that means that I am as plain as they come." She got up and started to walk again.
Legolas sighed, momentarily remaining seated, for he was weary. Then he got up, followed, and said, "Does it truly matter if your features are not typical to our race? Though many are beautiful, few are unique. After all, homogeneity does become boring after so many centuries."
Lasselanta turned, cocked her head frustratedly and said, "What is it exactly that you are trying to say?"
"Beauty is relative?" Legolas ventured. When she frowned, he tried again, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder?" No luck. He chuckled ruefully and then said earnestly, "You are not Arwen or Galadriel, but you are lovely and wild and beautiful for your freedom."
Lasselanta narrowed her eyes, looked into his, then said incredulously, "You are serious!"
"Of course I am!" Legolas replied somewhat indignantly. "Did you think I would lie to you?"
"I hardly know, Master Legolas," she replied tartly, deftly suppressing the Lasselanta he had just glimpsed. "I've only just met you."
She had him there, so he stalled by saying, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me by such a formal title."
Lasselanta accepted the tactic change in topic by replying, "Very well, Legolas. But we truly must go back. I'm sure Gimli is wide awake by now and scared out of his wits by Celebrindal." Legolas chuckled at this and agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to be blindfolded once again and they headed back to Lasselanta's haven in the wilderlands.
Gimli awoke gently, warm, rested, and for perhaps the first time in many a long year, completely free of any sort of ache or pain. But that was not what woke him: it was the sudden chill of his feet that had done so. He stirred and found he had been covered by a soft grey woolen blanket. He sat up drowsily, rubbed his eyes, and found himself staring into the face of a wolf. He gave a rather large jump, strangled a cry, and scooted his chair backward until it hit the wall. The wolf cocked his head inquisitively, but did not move from his spot in the center of the room. Gimli's eyes darted about the room as he assessed his situation. Unfortunately, (Very unfortunately, he thought) the wolf sat between him and the entrance to the stairs, which led outside. He started to reach for his favorite fighting axe, then remembered his bath and his change of clothes. His entire arsenal of weapons were now with his pack, which was on the opposite wall right next to the stair. Then, Gimli also remembered that Lasselanta had seemed at ease with the animal, as if she trusted it. Well, he thought, if she trusts it, so will I. He settled back into his chair to wait for Lasselanta's return. He didn't know where Legolas had gone.
As he sat there, Gimli started to have doubts about his easy trust in Lasselanta. What if she was some sort of sorceress? Well that was foolish. Lady Galadriel was said to be a sorceress and was one of the kindest, wisest, most beautiful elves he had ever met. But what if she had kidnapped Legolas or drugged him for somewhat? He dismissed that idea, for why would she take Legolas elsewhere and leave him here? The only logical explanation he could come up with was that Legolas was sleeping and Lasselanta had gone out or was doing something else. Gimli was startled out of his reverie by a warm presence he felt at his left knee. It was the wolf! But it didn't look fierce. It was grinning, tongue lolling, and it butted it's head under Gimli's hand. He snatched it back, but when the animal looked so sorrowful, he very cautiously returned it and tentatively patted the creature on the head before snatching his hand back again. But the wolf had had a look of pure pleasure in its eyes during the pat, so Gimli bravely stretched out his hand again to stroke the animal's head.
Within moments he was gleefully scratching and stroking and ruffling the wolf's head, and Celebrindal was in sheer heaven. This was how Lasselanta and Legolas found the pair when they returned.
Lasselanta paused at the bottom of the stair, smiling amazedly. "Well, will you look at that?" she said.
"I'm afraid that's a bit of an impossibility," Legolas replied drily, as he was still blindfolded. Lasselanta smiled; her arm darted out, and with a flick of her wrist she undid the blindfold, releasing him. By this time of course, Gimli had noticed their presence, but had not stopped petting Celebrindal.
"You do realize that he is now your slave forever, do you not?" Lasselanta told Gimli laughingly. "Provided of course, you never cease to scratch behind his ears."
"He likes that?" Gimli asked, then furiously did so, garnering such a look of pleasure from Celebrindal that Legolas laughed out loud, but his laugh was cut short by an enormous yawn.
"My dear Legolas," Lasselanta mocked. "Have you fatigued yourself?"
Legolas grinned and replied, "You are a very tiring creature, my lady." She merely gave him a reproving glare at that title.
"Ah!" Gimli surmised. "Has someone taken a tumble without me?" He roared at the innuendo and Legolas merely glanced sideways at Lasselanta before the two broke into peals of laughter. It took a few moments, but Gimli soon realized that they were not laughing for the same reason he was. "What?" he demanded.
"Naught of consequence," Lasselanta replied innocently. "Now come, Master Gimli," she ordered. "We must find you a more suitable place to sleep." She stressed the last word firmly and led Gimli down the hall.
Legolas watched them go, then collapsed into Gimli's chair and winced as he jarred his shoulder. He wondered at Lasselanta's easy switch from tears to laughter, but remembered the sadness in her eyes. Had he not loved his father, he would've found it quite easy to physically let a few frustrations out on the old elf king, for he knew how petty he could be about his jewels and dwarves, if not his people. As it was, he had to content himself with absently petting Celebrindal and inwardly seething at the injustice of it all. He thought about the run he had just taken, and how he found it easy to believe that Lasselanta had never received a compliment in her life. Oh, she had probably been congratulated by teachers on a particularly well-done sword move, but that was most likely the extent of it. Legolas had yet to meet an elfmaid quite like her, as all of those he had ever met had been quite sure of their own beauty and grace, their intelligence and skill. As he mused about all this, he quite forgot the dark and the oppressiveness of Lasselanta's home, and fatigue overtook him, sending him to the dreams he had avoided before. This time, as the last, he knew they would be anything but restful.