Just to say, although everyone knows… I don't own any of these characters. They all belong to Tolkien. (At least so far in the story). And by the way, I'd love a review. Now back to the story…
Back to Where We Started
Despite Aragorn's offer for men to accompany him, Legolas left early that morning on his own. His horse had long since recovered the exhaustion of the War was eager to return from whence they had come. As Legolas had saddled him that morning, he had nickered and whinnied in great excitement. "Yes my friend, we are going home." Legolas left behind all packs and the saddle that had been left for him. He longed to ride his horse the way had, what seemed like so long ago. Fast, free, in leisure. Not racing toward or away from a battle. But running for fun, for pure excitement. He ached to hear hoofs beating on the compact ground. He could not recall the sound of a river lapping around rocks and shores. He could not remember the smell of fresh forest air, nor the deep, rich color of the leaves. Suddenly, more than ever, his heart longed to return to the forest, his home.
He had said his goodbyes and excused himself. Saying goodbye to his friends had been painful. But he could no longer deny himself the call of the beckoning trees. He left just before the others. His hand stroked his horses back, feeling the coarse, yet soft hair and mane. He lightly leapt on the horses back, grabbed hold, and sent the horse running fast and far.
The air whipped at his face, but it felt good, it felt right. His own long golden locks danced in the wind behind him. From afar he was a sight to behold. Too fast to focus on, he was a blur of gold blazing off to return to his past, to determine his future.
Legolas knew that it would take him over a week, horseback to arrive at Mirkwood. As much as he wanted to once again walk through the trees he grew up with, he also knew the risks of pushing his horse farther that he could go. It had been a long, grueling day of riding, and so as the last lights of dusk reproached, Legolas found a safe spot to camp for the night.
As much as he would have liked to camp out in the open, under the stars, he was smarter than that. Sauron may be gone, but as Gandalf had reminded them only he night before, evil still lurked amongst them. He thought of Shelob, from Frodo's story, and remembered how his home forest Greenwood had been renamed as Mirkwood due to their kind. He thought of the orcs who had gotten away, of the Harad peoples, who were still an enemy of the Men of Gondor. He realized that, while one great evil had been destroyed, there were still so many left in this world.
Yet as he gazed at the silver moon and the stars gleaming in the twilight night, he could not be burdened by these thoughts. He sensed no danger, no presence of evil anywhere near. He could hear the trees, swaying and groaning. Telling the stories of Fanghorn forest amongst themselves. He hadn't realized how terribly exhausted he was until he lay down. Then quite suddenly, he drifted off to sleep. Though not as we would, but in the way that all elves sleep while traveling. A restful slumber, with the mind still conscious of its surroundings.
These are the thoughts of Legolas on returning home:
He does not know what it will be like, returning to a 'normal' life. The last year has been spent traveling, fighting, and overcoming all odds. How can he go back into the motions of the life he left behind? And yet, he yearns for this life. He yearns to feel familiar trees beneath his fingertips. His heart aches to hear his people speaking amongst themselves in quiet Elvish tones. He dreams of clean sheets, clean clothes, the feel of another in his presence, with out the undertones of fear. And while he tries to suppress this thought, he longs to touch another, to be comforted and loved. He tries to ignore this last image in his mind, but now, more than ever, with the thoughts of Aragorn and Arwen fresh in his mind; he begins to wish for that same attachment. Perhaps he will find it back in Mirkwood? But as quickly as this thought enters his mind, it is forgotten. He has other worries. Other hopes. As he nears closer and closer home, he begins to grow nervous, anxious, of returning to land he left, what seems like so long ago.
After many long, tireless days Legolas finally reached the borders of the Mirkwood forest. It was nearing night, and Legolas decided to finish the journey the following day. He let his horse go on to graze and meander through the lush, green grass. Legolas stared in awe at the great trees. He ran his fingers over the cracks and bumps in the bark of a great, wise, and old tree to his right. He closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent of leaves, grass, the scent of life. Thanks to his keen elf hearing, he heard water running not far in the distance and his eyes shot open. Suddenly his whole body ached with the desire to drink this water. A slight tremble ran through him at the thought of this crisp water, and the shockingly cold flavor it would be sure to contain. He was not particularly thirsty, yet he strode toward the small stream with purpose and determination. For once he drank of this water, he would be home.
He leaned beside the small stream and gazed into his reflection, or what he could see of it. Golden locks of his long, smooth hair fell out of place before him. He cupped some of the gently flowing water into his hands and brought it up to his lips. He felt so at ease, so at home. His heart belonged to the woods.
The last sign of light began to fade into blackness. Legolas remained by the stream, leaning against a tree. He knew there was no need to search out a safe spot tonight. If there is anything an elf knows how to do, it's how to live amongst the trees. He made a small fire and finished off the provisions he had carried with him. No need to ration any longer. At daybreak he would be home. Home. Home, where his friends would greet him. Home, where his father would welcome him. Home, where, no doubt, many female elves would be anxious to greet this newly returned hero of Middle Earth. At this thought he almost blushed to himself. "Legolas," he reprimanded himself, "you are beginning to think like a young elf indeed." And once again he forced his mind to stray from this line of thought.
He slept on the woodland floor, the scent of the earth filling his being. Leaves padded the already soft forest floor that he lay on. While he slept he dreamed of trees and leaves. He dreamed of his home, of his father. And try as he might, he dreamed of feeling the warmth of another's touch. On his shoulder, grazing against his hand. A light touch. A sweet touch. Yet, an almost sad touch.
"Please let me come with you."
"Amin hiraetha. (I'm sorry) I must go alone."
"A'maelamin… (My beloved)"
"Melamin, Lle vesta? (My love, Do you promise?)"
"Amin vesta?... Mani? (Do I promise?...what?)"
"Vesta… (Promise---)"
And then he awoke. Something had awaken him. He quietly crept up, grabbed his bow and hid himself among the trees. What had he heard? Any sound could have caused him to awake. Yet, the most he listened the less he heard. The trees where quiet and still, and there was not even the chatter of birds between the trees. Perhaps the silence had caused him to stir. But that still left him with the question… What had caused all the creatures to hold their tongues? Someone was near by. He stayed against the tree, not daring to move, and waited. The longer he sat, the more convinced he became that it had been his imagination. Yet he remained against the tree. Listening with all his elf abilities through the dark, for some clue as to what had startled his slumber.
As he waited, glaring through the trees in the semi-dark, he began to recall his dream. Who had been talking? He could not remember. The jumble of voices and the confusing conversation left him unsure of what his dream had even been about. There was a woman. He knew that much. A gentle voice. He remembered being touched. A light, weightless touch. "I have been in battle for too long. My mind begins to wander." He whispered to himself.
He finally attributed the dream and the noise that had awoken him to his imagination. An hallucination caused due to anticipation and the stress of the year. He could sense no danger anywhere around him. Once he finally convinced himself that he was over reacting, he decided he might as well head out and start for home. There was not much light, but with in an hour the sun would be creeping up into the sky.
He remained pressed against the tree for one second longer. Finally he felt foolish. He let his bow drop, and he stepped out into the open. He set his bow down to being packing up for the last leg of his journey. Then, an unmistakable noise. He flipped around and saw them. Five of them.
"You let down your guard far too easy."
Oh, a cliffhanger. Sorry. Don't worry, the next chapter will be up soon. Please leave me a review! Thanks!