The first time
I did not realize immediately that it was the same boy, even after the introductions; as I lay half-awake in the curiously still hours of night, the air full of life and an absent breathing of another, I recalled. I had known him well, very well, many years ago.
He was an infant, with a kind of vulnerable intensity, I sang for him, murmurous, just a few lines I dredged from my own childhood, and he smiled, and for a minute that was the world, the universe and it felt complete, wide, wild, where the gnawings of every empty heart ceased.
We were old friends who had…forgotten.
So that is how I came to know Estel.
The moon's casual magic lent itself to our conversation, and made what might have been inadequate surreal. He was not a fairy child, being tangible, solid and certain ectoplasm, but on that night I felt young again, his words were childish, I felt no scorn and replied in similar fashion and what was truthful was more beautiful, more honest because it was simple.
He chattered, being unable to sleep after not stirring 'til a little past noon. –What is it like in Mirkwood? Are there really giant spiders?
We were in my room, the windows were open, large, but somewhat full with two figures sitting there, perfectly intimate. I can see it, the image is quite absolute, quite enchanting, despite the years between.
--Well, yes, there are. Larger than any where else. They are monsters.
And the moon settled pure and unruffled, to watch. The muslin curtain billowed, white, but blue with shadow.
--Have you ever gone hunting for them?
Strange, the tranquility existed despite the glumness the topic would usually have evoked in me. I suppose that was the rarity in youth and naivety.
--Plenty of times. Afterwards we always make sure to destroy the nests.
--What about the little baby spiders? Won't they be hurt too?
Now there was a dilemma. How to answer a question like that without breaking the idea that everything begins untainted and unsoiled at birth, that not everything is clean and glowing with goodness? I never did like to lie.
--Not everything is good, Estel. You have to know this.
For this is the age you live in my child.
--They're evil?
--Yes. They are.
How I wish it could be any other way.
--I see. I wish it didn't have to be like this.
And the mood was restored, the moon still shining and lovely. I told him of my childhood, in a less sullied world, through eyes less blue.
It is not bad thing to be naïve. No, not at all.
There are some days that pass by in flashes, bright and full, like a flower so bursting with joy and fruit that it is at the brink of withering and failure and death.
This day was one of them: precision and speed faster than the eye could track.
Archery.
He was not particularly good at this, which was probably why Legolas was so adamant on teaching him.
Archery was a craft Legolas had shown an aptitude for since childhood, it was the woodwind personified, arrows were a decent, unbrutal weapon, soaring without vanity, straight and clean and their wings were gifted to them by the wind that bore them. There was that familiarity of it, gracefully modest; a harp crafted for more practical purposes.
The bow favoured patience over willful aspiration, which was the main reason contributing to Estel's ineptness with it.
Dawn had brought four figures to the archery grounds, Elladan and Elrohir had been reluctant initially to participate in what they deemed an unworthy cause, after all, they were competent as instructors, but eventually agreed. Estel had only been too keen, there was an inextinguishable want to learn in him.
Flight was crooked and it embedded itself firmly into the earth.
Another was strung and set loose.
"Not so fast. Concentrate on the target."
Swift and wayward.
"Here, let me show you. Your stance…" he knelt on the slightly damp earth, and grasped both wrists then replaced them on the bow.
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Ten arrows. A brightened sky, fully warm, the sun was an inquisitive one as it spied upon the goings-on far, far below its lofty perch.
"Was that better?"
A slight nod followed in response.
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Another arrow accepted the challenge offered by the board, edging closer to the middle, a small red spot.
He was less careless in aiming as the day progressed. The midday heat wedded intense sunshine to the redolence added generously by fresh blooms.
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By nightfall he was thoroughly worn-out, but satisfaction accompanied this ache that was making itself known, satisfaction from more than one individual.
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LegolassQ--you might find some of this familiar. Bear with me. I'm going to salvage some scenes out of my previous work. From chapter 6 onwards both stories will have similar chapters.
Everyone--keep reviewing, they're nice to have and you're nice to be giving to me. So keep up the niceness!