Dumb scene dividers! I think I will have to resort to using a word or something instead of just figures. I hate to do this, but I have to try "scene divider" (stupid, I know…but hopefully it will work.) I'm sorry if it disrupts the flow of the story, but I don't know what else to do unless someone tells me how to make them work…and the bolds and italics, too! Curse them all!
Princes of the Earth
Chapter 2
The Fifth Prince
A small party of Elves waited at the border of Greenwood. They were to escort the four princes back to the palace at the end of the week, but so far there had been no sight of the royals.
Finally around dusk they noticed a small speck on the horizon that was soon identified as a galloping horse. As it drew nearer, they saw it was riderless but bore traveling packs. It galloped right up to them and halted, breathing hard.
"This is Prince Ransûl's horse!" one of the Elves identified. "What are you doing here? Where is your master?" The great horse just shook his head and lowered it. "Something has happened to the Prince!" the Elf deduced. "His mount would not just leave him."
Two of the escort were appointed to return to the palace and tell the king of what had happened. They immediately set out, accompanied by Ransûl's horse, which refused to be left behind.
Scene divider!
The next morning Thranduil was working in his study when a servant knocked urgently on the closed door. The king called for him to enter, which he did, and bowed hastily. "My lord, two of the escort for the princes just arrived with pressing news," the Elf said.
Thranduil leapt up and hurried down to the courtyard, where the two messenger Elves would be waiting. The two bowed to their king as he hastened into the courtyard, but he did not notice. His eyes were fixed instead on the horse standing directly behind them, which he recognized immediately as belonging to Ransûl. Thranduil already feared the worst. "Where is my son?"
One of the Elves stepped forward and bowed again. "My lord, we were waiting at the border as you ordered, but so far none of the princes have arrived. Then last night Prince Ransûl's horse came, without a rider, but no sign of harm."
Thranduil was becoming increasingly alarmed. No Elven horse would simply leave its rider on a whim. He had a nearby Elf take the horse into the stables and make it comfortable. Then he ordered the two messengers to start a search between the border and Moria until they found the prince. They bowed and left, quickly heading back to the border.
Thranduil went back to his study, falling ungracefully into his chair. What had happened to Ransûl? And for that matter, why had Telepsîr, Laurëfin, and Lindil not yet returned, either? They should have been home by now. Perhaps they were simply delayed…
The Elvenking was disturbed from his thoughts as another knock came on his door, and a stablehand entered a moment later upon permission of the king. He bowed and held a package forward for the king to take. "Forgive, my lord, but this was on Prince Ransûl's horse. I thought you might want to see it."
Thranduil immediately seized the package and sent the Elf away. Quickly unwrapping it, hoping for some clue as to his son's whereabouts, he was surprised to find a small, shining corslet of mithril and gems, clearly the work of the Dwarves. He stared at in surprise for a moment. A gift for Legolas, no doubt, thought it would not fit him for some time yet.
'At least now I know he even made it to Moria,' Thranduil thought, murmuring a quick prayer for the safety of his sons. He could do little else now.
Scene divider!
Two days later, Thranduil had still not heard anything from the search party or from his three older sons, and was growing ever more worried. The king was currently sitting in Legolas's room, watching as the tiny babe slept. It always had a calming affect on him.
A soft knock came on the door, knowing the prince was likely asleep, but Thranduil ignored it. It came again a short while later, slightly louder, and an Elf maiden entered after a few moments.
"My lord…" she began quietly, but Thranduil still gave no sign of hearing her. "A messenger has come from Moria. He says he bears news of the prince."
Scarcely had she finished then Thranduil was up and out of the room. He rushed to his chamber where he met with guests and messengers, scarcely taking the time to smooth his hair and robes before entering.
There stood a stout Dwarf fully clad in armor, though he had removed his helmet out of respect. Elf and Dwarf nodded to each other, and immediately cut to the point. "You bring news of my son?"
"Aye. I bring word from Lord Durin. He regrets to inform you that your son is dead."
"Dead?" Thranduil repeated in shock, falling heavily into his chair. "When? H-how?"
"Not yet five days ago," the Dwarf answered. "There was a cave-in and he fell…into the darkness. My lord wished you to know that the prince saved his life."
Thranduil just sat and stared blankly. Ransûl was dead…dead…and Valar only knew what had happened to his other sons.
"We would have sent word earlier," the Dwarf continued, trying to ignore the king's open show of emotion, "but the prince's horse ran off when we tried to come near him, and had to send a messenger by foot."
Thranduil nodded dumbly. The Dwarf began to look uncomfortable. A servant Elf came forward and quietly led him away to guest chambers where he could stay the night.
Dead…The word reverberated through Thranduil's mind. He rose and fled to his private chambers, where he wept long for his fallen son.
Scene divider!
Two weeks passed. Word had spread like wildfire of Ransûl's death and the whole kingdom was in mourning. There was still no sign of the three older princes.
Thranduil had shut himself up in Legolas's room, refusing to come out for anything, as if afraid of losing his youngest son also. He did not eat and rarely slept, just sat and stared at the prince.
Finally he lost all hope of his sons' return and cracked. He wept for hours on end, Legolas watching with large silver eyes from where he lay. Thranduil grabbed up his son and hugged the tiny baby to his chest, holding on to him as if to a last lifeline. Legolas did not protest, just reached up with an un-cooperating hand to touch his father's wet face.
Thranduil gave a watery smile and only hugged him closer. "Oh, Legolas…" he breathed. "Without you, I would surely be lost." And they stayed that way for a long time.
Scene divider!
Several years later, a young Legolas watched from his balcony as an Elfling played with his older brother. Legolas did not know what it was like to have a brother, and did not even know he used to have four. No one had told him, as he was till too young to understand the concept of death.
No sign of Telepsîr, Laurëfin, or Lindil had ever been found, and after a long while, everyone had eventually given up on them.
Legolas suddenly made up his mind and headed for his father's study. He entered silently, noting his father was working, and soundlessly waited in a chair for his father to notice him.
After a few moments, Thranduil glanced up, sensing another presence in the room, and visibly started when he saw Legolas. It always startled him, as the child was an almost perfect replica of his brothers when they were Legolas's age.
"Did you need something, son?" Thranduil asked when Legolas just stared silently at him. The child had always been unnaturally quiet, crying rarely when he was little, and first speaking at a late age. Thranduil never figured out why, as his four older sons had been the exact opposite.
"I…" Legolas paused as if considering whether he should speak at all, but at an encouraging smile from Thranduil, continued. "I want a brother."
Thranduil tried unsuccessfully to hide a wince at the unexpected question, but hoped Legolas would not notice. He doubted it, though, as Legolas had sharp eyes and was keen on observing things others missed.
The king forced a smile, coming to a painful decision. He had known this day would come eventually, but he had hoped it would not come so soon. "It is about time you knew something." Legolas just stared up at him with his wide silver eyes as Thranduil took his hand and led him from the room.
"Well, at one time you did have brothers—four of them," Thranduil began as they walked down the hallway. "But they left when you were very young."
"Why?" came Legolas's predicted response.
"I do not know, ion nin, but they had to." Thranduil sighed.
"Where?"
"To the Halls of Mandos."
"Where is that?"
"It is where people go when they…die." Thranduil had tried to avoid that word, as it would be hard to explain.
"What is die?"
They paused and Thranduil knelt down so he could be closer to eye level with his son. He took Legolas's small hand and placed it on his own chest. "Feel that?" Legolas nodded. "That is my heart moving. When it stops moving, you die, and go to the Halls of Mandos."
"Oh. And you never get to see your family again?" Leoglas asked with wide, comprehending eyes.
"Not until they die also," Thranduil replied, throat constricting.
"Then I never want to die, because I will have to leave you," Legolas declared.
Thranduil smiled and stood. He was glad Legolas had seemed to grasp the concept of death, and he did not have to elaborate. Death was hard to explain, as most grown Elves could not totally understand it themselves.
"Where are we going?" Legolas asked after a short while.
"Remember those four rooms Ada says you must never go in?" Thranduil asked. Legolas nodded. "Those were your brothers' rooms. We are going to see them."
Finally they reached the princes' old bedrooms and Thranduil unlocked the first one. "This was your brother Ransûl's room. He was the youngest before you came."
Legolas looked all around the room with wide eyes, observing everything from the various weapons hanging on the walls, to the papers scattered on the writing desk in the far corner. Not a thing had been moved since the last time Ransûl had been there years ago.
Thranduil, meanwhile, was trying not to look at anything, lest he lose control over his emotions. Talking about his dead sons had been extremely painful, now he was being reminded of them in an agonizing way.
Legolas looked up and noted his father's expression. "Do you miss them very much, Ada?" Thranduil nodded and gave a small smile. "But you still have me, Ada. I promise I will never die and leave you here alone."
The king smiled again and held his son in his arms. "Thank you, Legolas. That is very kind of you."
"We do not have to go on if you do not want to, Ada," Legolas allowed.
"Alright," Thranduil agreed. In truth, he did not know if he could stand to see Lindil, Laurëfin, and Telepsîr's rooms also. Instead he carried Legolas to his own room, which was actually the next room over from Telepsîr's, and set him down on the huge bed.
The kind unlocked a large chest of drawers and bid Legolas to come nearer. "When your mother knew she was expecting you, your brothers made you these, planning to give them to you when you were old enough."
Legolas peered in, his eyes widening in wonder. There, lying neatly in the bottom of the drawer, which was barely even large enough to hold them, were several beautiful weapons, crafted by the four brothers themselves. Thranduil explained what was from whom.
There was a long, thin, curved sword from Telepsîr, the eldest; a quiver, complete with delicate carvings and full of arrows from Laurëfin, second eldest; a dark bow with golden etchings, the companion of the quiver, from Lindil, the middle son; and a pair of long white knives from Ransûl. Everything except the knives was longer than Legolas was tall, and even the knives came close.
The little prince reached a hand forward to touch the beautiful weapons, but Thranduil gently pushed it back. "Do not touch. You might get hurt." Legolas gave a disappointed look, and Thranduil almost laughed aloud. "Do not worry, ion. I shall give them to you when you are old enough." 'And strong enough to even lift them,' he added wryly to himself.
Legolas promised himself that from then on, he would make himself worthy to bear the weapons his brothers had made for him, and make them proud.
Scene divider!
Legolas was eventually told everything anybody knew about his brothers and the events surrounding their deaths, as nobody actually knew what happened to them, with the exception of Ransûl. Legolas felt terribly guilty over what had happened, as he felt it was his fault in an indirect way. But he told no one, as he prone to hiding his feelings, afraid to burden anyone.
The young prince started training with weapons at a very early age, and soon showed remarkable skill. Yet he refused to even touch his brothers' weapons until he considered himself worthy, and instead crafted his own.
Legolas very rarely left Greenwood, which was partially due to his father's over protectiveness, for fear of losing his last remaining son; but mainly, Legolas himself had no desire to travel. If he did, it was always to Rivendell or Lothlórien, and he loathed going even there. He felt that everybody stared oddly at him, as if blaming him for his brothers' deaths.
When the Shadow started growing over Greenwood, Legolas fought against the increasing dark forces, soon proving himself as a capable warrior and great leader of the entire army.
After his first successful battle as leader, in which he drove the dark forces back to Dol Guldur, Thranduil presented Legolas with the weapons the four older princes had made. Legolas accepted them and fought with them in every following battle, bearing them proudly.
The Shadow ever grew in Greenwood despite the Elves' valiant efforts, and Men started referring to it as Mirkwood. Monstrous spiders and other fell beasts started appearing near the southern border, and the trees there grew dark and evil. But where Thranduil's realm was maintained, all was still light and magnificent as ever.
Legolas remained as faithful as ever to battle, yearning to see his kingdom restored to its former beauty. In one such battle, the Elves were nearing victory as they slaughtered and pushed back the Orcs. Legolas hacked his way through his foes, occasionally using an arrow when needed, moving with a frightening grace.
The prince had just gutted an Orc, succeeding in getting covered with black blood, when he turned just in time to receive a large, black arrow full in the chest. He was thrown back to a tree by the force of the impact, and wearily slid down its trunk until he was sitting on the ground.
Legolas studied the arrow imbedded in him for a moment, trying to regain his bearings as time slowed. He looked up to find the Orc that had shot him, but instead of an Orc, he saw something else.
Standing in front of him, several meters off, was a figure cloaked all in silver, a dim grey in the shadow of the woods, the hood pulled low over its face, hiding its features. Immediately, the burning pain in Legolas's chest lessened to a dull throb, and he glanced down in stupefied amazement. When he looked up again a moment later, the figure was gone.
Legolas pushed it from his mind for the moment, struggling to stand, as he knew he was now at the mercy of any Orcs that came along. But instead, and Elf suddenly appeared at his side, or so it seemed to him, and gasped when he saw the wound.
The Elf quickly lifted the injured prince, supporting most of his weight. "Come, my lord, we must get you some help."
"No," Legolas murmured, trying weakly to pull away. "The battle…"
"All the Orcs are retreating, my lord! They all just stopped fighting as if they had received an order to do so!"
Legolas slumped in relief at this news. The pain from the arrow increased again to almost unbearable, and he blearily looked around him before darkness claimed him.
Scene divider!
When next Legolas woke, he was back in his own bed at the palace, a thick bandage wrapped securely around his chest. There was still a dull throbbing present, and he dimly wondered how long it had been.
Thranduil entered just then, bearing a small tray of food, and smiled when he saw his son awake. "Aldamîr said you would be waking soon," he explained, setting the tray down on the small table beside the bed. "How do you feel?"
"Fine. It aches a bit, but other than that it is alright." Legolas accepted the glass of water his father offered him. "How long have I been asleep?"
"A little over a day." Thranduil smiled slightly. "You had me worried."
Legolas returned the smile slightly. "When may I return to my post?"
Thranduil did not know whether to laugh or throttle his son, so he just sighed. "Legolas, you have been too…devoted…to the guard and patrol. I think you need a rest from it for a while."
"But, Ada!" Legolas immediately objected, wincing as his wound protested. "They need me out there! I—"
"Legolas, no. Only for a couple of weeks. You need to heal anyway." Legolas knew when not to argue when his father had made up his mind, and this was one of those times.
Thranduil almost laughed at his son's resigned look. "Rest, son, and do not get out of bed before Aldamîr gives you permission."
Legolas stayed in bed most of the following week, despite his insistencies of being fine. On his eighth day of inactivity, he wandered aimlessly through the palace, wishing to be back out on patrol. Recently, their prisoner Sméagol, whom the Wizard Mithrandir had entrusted to them, had escaped during a battle with the Orcs. Legolas wished he had been there, for even one Elf could make a large difference in battle.
A servant came hurrying up to him, interrupting his thoughts, and informed him that Thranduil awaited him in his study. Legolas immediately made his way to his father's study, hoping to be told that he could go back out on patrol.
Thranduil sat behind his desk, holding a letter in his hand. "How would you like to go to Imladris?" he asked without delay.
Legolas did not reply right away, surprised by this unforeseen turn of events, so his father continued. "I need someone to take news of Sméagol escape to Elrond anyway, and I just received word from him that he is going to hold a necessary council soon. As my son, you can take my place, and the trip will not be hard on your wound."
Legolas had, by now, overcome his surprise, and was trying to ignore his father's reasoning. "But, Adar, Imladris is…"
"Yes, I know you do not like traveling outside this realm, but you will not have to be gone long, probably only a week or two at the most." Thranduil was practically pleading, and he knew it. As much as he was overprotective of his only remaining son, he knew Legolas had to visit other realms some time or other, especially if he was one day going to be king.
Legolas sighed to himself; he really did not have a choice. If he stayed, his father would likely not allow him back on patrol for a couple more weeks anyway, and at least this would provide him with something to do. But on the other hand, he would have to leave his home, travel to Imladris, tell Elrond of Sméagol's escape, and attend a boring meeting.
"Fine," Legolas mumbled.
Thranduil smiled in amusement. "Good. You leave in two days."
Scene divider!
Legolas was ready to depart on the morning of the appointed day. Accompanying him was a small escort of guards, for Thranduil always insisted on it.
Legolas mentally checked all his supplies, including the weapons his brothers had made for him, except for the sword. He would likely have no need for it, but if he did, he still had the twin knives from Ransûl.
Satisfied he was ready to depart, Legolas stood by his horse, waiting for his father. Thranduil went over to his son and gave a slight smile, holding one hand to his chest and sweeping it outwards.
Legolas bowed in acknowledgement of this mounted his horse, escort following at a trot. Thranduil watched till they were out of sight, suddenly feeling as if he might not see his son for a very long time. "Be safe, my son."
Scene divider!
The journey to Rivendell was swift and easy, the small company of Elves arriving with no trouble. Halting his horse inside the main courtyard, Legolas quickly observed all his surroundings, noticing Mithrandir standing and watching on one of the many balconies looking out on the courtyard. He smiled slightly and nodded politely to the wizard, for he was known and loved among all Elves.
A servant came forward and led the Mirkwood party to their guest chambers while a few others led away their horses to be stabled.
After cleaning up and changing clothes, Legolas went in search of Elrond. Perhaps the sooner he delivered his news of Gollum, the sooner he could go back home. A nearby Elf directed him to a room down the hall, telling him Lord Elrond was with a patient at the moment.
Not wishing to intrude, Legolas waited outside in the hall until Elrond came out about a quarter of an hour later.
"Greetings, Lord Elrond," Legolas bowed his head. "I bring a message from my father, King Thranduil."
The Peredhil smiled suddenly. "Oh! Prince Legolas! It has been too long—I barely recognized you. You say you bring a message?"
Legolas nodded. "Sméagol, who is called Gollum, has escaped."
Elrond paled. "How?"
"Orcs," he fairly spat. "They attacked my guards while they were watching Sméagol. Fortunately, none were killed in the battle. We tracked them as far as we dared, but were unable to retake him."
"This is indeed grave news," Elrond replied after several moments' hesitation. "But there is graver still to be said. You will be attending the council in three days, I assume?"
"Yes, my lord. My father bid me come in his stead," Legolas answered. He wondered why the council was to be in three days and not any sooner. That meant he would have to stay at least another four days.
The two parted company, and Legolas spent most of the rest of the day wandering through the halls of Rivendell. It had hardly changed since the last time he had visited hundreds of years before. The company, however, was drastically changed. He ran across several Humans and a few incredibly short beings he could only identify as Halflings. He supposed they were all here for the council.
Legolas also saw Dwarves, but carefully avoided them. He had practically been raised against their race, the friendship between Elves and Dwarves having waned to nothing long ago. Not only that, but Legolas knew his father blamed the Dwarves for Ransûl's death, and the prince had adopted this idea himself. The blame and hate was only compounded by not knowing what had happened to Telepsîr, Laurëfin, and Lindil.
Nearly eighty years before, thirteen Dwarves had been captured while harassing his people, but Legolas had been out on patrol the whole time. Thranduil had been absolutely furious when the Dwarves had mysteriously escaped a while later, and could not be calmed for over a week.
Legolas had fought in the following Battle of Five Armies, and had seen there the young Halfling Bilbo, who had probably single-handedly prevented a physical war between the Elves and Dwarves, he did not know what had happened to Bilbo after the battle, or even if he was still alive.
Legolas retired back to his guest chambers, a servant bringing him his meal and hot water for a bath some time later. The next day was nearly torturous for the Elf prince, as there was nothing for him to do but sit idly. So he invited a few of his escort to practice archery with him in a little grove hear the border of the realm. The practice soon evolved into a contest, Legolas claiming the championship.
"And you are the ones who are supposed to be protecting me?" he teased. "It seems as if it should be the other way around."
A soft snicker came from behind a bush, and all the Elves had arrows strung and aimed at it in a flash. "Peace!" a voice called out in Elvish, and a Man slowly stepped out, his hands held up in plain view. Legolas recognized him as one of the Humans he had seen earlier. "Lower your weapons; I mean you no harm."
"Why were you spying on us?" Legolas demanded, not lowering his bow.
"I was not spying," the man replied, almost defensively. "I came here to practice myself, observed your contest, and could not help watching. Forgive me for interrupting." He waited a few moments, and when nobody moved, he said, "Are you going to point that thing at me all day?"
"Perhaps," Legolas answered tersely.
Undeterred, the Man extended his hand to the prince. "I am called Estel."
Legolas lowered his bow, reasoning that a dangerous Man would not be allowed in Rivendell, but kept it ready by his side. This "Estel" had a long sword hanging loose by his side, after all. "Legolas," he said, bowing his head only slightly.
The Man bowed in acknowledgement, and after a silent moment, excused himself, disappearing through the trees.
"Well. That was…interesting," said one of the Mirkwood Elves.
"I thought he was pleasant," said another.
"Perhaps a little too pleasant."
"Suspicious."
"Quite. What do you think, my prince?"
"I do not like him," Legolas responded flatly.
"Why must you be so wary of everybody outside Mirkwood?" one of the guards, a bit closer to Legolas than the others, asked boldly.
Legolas turned a fierce glare on him. "My brother went to Gondor, the kingdom of Men, over two thousand years ago, and never returned."
That effectively silenced the others. The prince never spoke of his lost brothers, and it was practically an unwritten law to never speak of them anywhere near his presence.
They all silently made their way back inside, Legolas shutting himself up in his room for the rest of the day, lost in thought.
End of chapter. Next chapter will be up soon. I decided to give you all this chapter early, since I had nothing better to do. Is it really too much to ask that I get just one review per chapter? I won't hold chapters for ransom or anything, but it really makes my day when I get one. Ok, enough of my sob story. d-: I promise this story will start getting better soon. I just had to get past all this boring crud and get into the real plot, next chappie. Yay!