Alliteration is fun.
Updated 11-26-22 because APPARENTLY I wasn't paying enough attention to the dates (shame, past Foxflight).
"There is a darkness in the forest."
"You've been saying that for forever, Legolas," Feren pointed out from where he, his sister, and Galion's sons were enjoying their picnic in the green-tinged shade. The prince was standing as still as the tree they were under, staring intently into the distance like he'd see something other than trunks, trunks, and more trunks.
The other three glanced at each other. Tathor had hesitantly remarked just yesterday that he, too, thought he felt something through the trees.
"The Silvans are nervous," Silana admitted. "So says Tairen, and I can feel it in the soldiers."
Firith silently organized their forgotten food by shape and color, while Tathor gulped and said, "You don't think something's actually going to happen?"
"Nah," Feren declared, but it was clear he was trying to sound nonchalant. "Look around, everything's fine."
"There is something out there," Legolas repeated.
"The patrols going down south have been saying something feels off for a while," agreed Silana.
The pinkish-haired brothers looked between all of them in alarm.
Feren shook his head stubbornly. "It's probably—"
Legolas dropped to a crouch, and his hand went automatically into the patrol signal for danger—he'd been spending a lot of time leading patrols lately, though never down south. The others hopped fluidly to the same position, except for Firith, who had to be shushed by Tathor; even the healer went on plenty of patrols, usually in Legolas's group as if to make up for the prince's long-lost dream of fighting side-by-side. He was long past his apprentice days, as he, Firith, and Legolas had all recently celebrated the end of their first millennium. "What is it?" he hissed to Legolas.
"Bows," the prince whispered back instead of answering, and Tathor tossed his to him as the other three who could fight retrieved their weapons. Silana had her swords at her belt, Feren his daggers, and even Tathor had a hunting knife; all three had bows. Firith had nothing, but Feren slipped him one of his blades—he'd had enough training to be helpful in a fight. The four with experience slipped silently into the trees, and Firith imitated them without any more noise.
They waited in silence for many heartbeats before their ears caught the sound.
"...the last whose realm was fair and free... between the mountains and the sea... hmm hmm-hmm-hmm hmm hmm-hmm-hmm..."
"He's singing, Legolas," Tathor whispered.
The prince, too, was tempted to relax, but he double-checked his gut feeling. Friend or foe? he asked the trees.
Friend! they responded enthusiastically. The wanderer returns!
"Who?" he wondered.
"The trees say he's a good guy," Tathor relayed to the others, as if they couldn't hear.
Legolas held up his hand for silence. "Shh. Wait."
They waited as the voice came closer—it was that of a human, Legolas thought, an old one by human standards. Sure enough, soon they heard the rustle of footsteps among the first fallen leaves of autumn, and a gray-cloaked figure came into view around a wide tree. He was indeed old and gray-bearded, but not hunched, though he leaned on a knarled staff. He looked harmless, but with every step he took, Legolas became more sure he was hiding something... he had an aura the prince could feel deep inside.
Legolas nocked an arrow and leapt to his feet. Silana, Feren, and Tathor, who'd spread out and surrounded the stranger, did the same. "Name yourself!"
The stranger drifted to a stop and raised his head. "Name myself, you say? I should think I have names enough already, Legolas Greenleaf."
Legolas wasn't sure whether to be more disturbed that the old man knew his name or that he had used the translation in Common like a surname. He scrambled to hide his shock. "It would seem I am at a disadvantage," he admitted. "Let me rephrase, then: what name shall I call you by?"
The stranger furrowed his bushy eyebrows at the prince. "Mithrandir will suffice, if you wish to follow the standards of your kin," he decided. "Or you may call me Gandalf, as the men do." Then his eyes softened. "Come down, children, I mean you no harm." His reference to their age, which should have been so many times his, only confused them further.
The other elves looked to Legolas for a decision, although Feren and Firith shook their heads vigorously and Tathor and Silana nodded. Legolas pursed his lips but climbed down and sheathed his arrow, though he kept his bow in his hands.
Mithrandir found a suitable stump and sat down with a deep sigh. "Now we may have a proper introduction," he declared as the elves stood before him uncertainly. "I am an old man of many names, though I have only lately returned to these lands. I have come seeking an evil which has taken root in your forest. You may have sensed it already." When Legolas nodded, he continued, "Your name, Legolas, I guessed based upon Elrond's description." Elrond had visited Greenwood once since Legolas's birth, and the prince had twice been to Rivendell on the other side of the Misty Mountains, where Elrond lived with his family. "But your friends I do not know."
"These are Tathor and Firith, sons of my Father's loyal servant Galion," said Legolas. He was trying to match the stranger's manner of speech. "And these are Feren and Silana; their father, Taensirion, is my father's closest advisor."
"Hi," Tathor ventured shyly.
Silana, brave as usual, stepped past Legolas to investigate. "Who are you really, Mithrandir? You will not tell us, will you?"
The old man smiled kindly. "It may be you will find out in time."
Now Tathor moved forward as well, despite Firith's too-late attempt to stop him. "I know who you are! You're a Maia like Queen Melian from Taen's stories!"
The other elves blinked at him.
"He's right," Feren blurted unexpectedly. "Can't you feel it?"
"Feel what?" asked Firith.
Legolas stared deep into the stranger's blue eyes, which radiated with an invisible power. "Magic. Older and deeper than ours."
"But, why would a Maia be here?" Silana wondered.
Mithrandir's eyes were twinkling. "Sit down, if you like, and I shall tell you. But then you must take me to your father, Legolas, for soon I must be on my way."
And they did. First Tathor, then Silana, then Legolas, and finally Feren and Firith sat cross-legged on the ground before the mysterious old man with magic they could feel in their bones, and waited with wide eyes to hear what he would tell them.
. . . . . .
"I do not see how this is any of your business," contended Alagon, who was apparently unreceptive to auras of ancient power.
"I am here to help you," the wizard repeated in exasperation. "This evil may be beyond your power—"
The Silvan advisor scoffed. "Oh, but not yours, human?"
"Alagon," yelped Taensirion, who was mortified at the other elf's behavior. After all, his first impulse had been to bow—he had met a Maia before and recognized Mithrandir for what he was instantly—though this had instantly caused him to be scolded by Alagon, Thranduil, and the visitor himself.
Thranduil snapped his fingers and both fell silent. The king was reclined on his throne in a particularly bored manner, as he was (at least outwardly) unimpressed with the visitor, despite Taensirion's and his son's assurances that this was a being of much greater ability than was outwardly evident. "What do you ask of me?"
"Only that you take heed," said Mithrandir, "as those lands are yours, even though you do not protect them."
"That sounds like an insult to me," Alagon muttered grumpily.
The wizard ignored him. "I have other business in the North and shall not stay long. Your hospitality, however, I will accept should you offer it."
"Please, Ada," requested Legolas oh-so-politely. He had been allowed to stay, though his friends had been kicked out—even Tathor, who had been practically glued to the wizard.
Thranduil considered him for several moments.
"I think we ought to accept his advice," Taensirion said, very quietly.
"I do not," Alagon declared, not quietly. "We know next to nothing of this... being, and I do not see why he should be allowed to meddle in our affairs." He was still irritated that Mithrandir had confirmed the dark presence in the southern reaches in the forest, which he had been about to go investigate himself after denying its existence for some time. The wizard had made him look like a fool, and Alagon did not appreciate that.
"Why not? After all," Legolas observed brightly, "he could be a powerful ally. If we accept his show of goodwill in warning us, he may bring us more news in the future."
"Hmm," said Alagon. Put that way, it sounded quite convenient.
Thranduil did not like his son's attachment to the Maia. "Your concern is noted," he decided. "We shall see what becomes of it." With that, he descended from his throne and walked past Mithrandir without another word.
"Are you sure you should not investigate this shadow, Gandalf?" Legolas inquired, as Alagon followed the king, muttering to himself.
"The master of my order assures me he is watching it," replied the wizard. "And it is very likely my fears are unfounded. Of course, if I am right..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I do not know what is to be done about it."
. . . . . .
As Mithrandir was leaving very early the next morning, he unexpectedly encountered an elf waiting for him at the gate. "You come from Valinor?" Taensirion confirmed, biting his lip.
"It is unlikely I know the one you seek tidings of," warned the wizard.
"Maybe, but she had a way of being known to everyone," the Sinda replied. "Her name was Eithryn, but she went by Sky—coppery hair, bright green eyes?"
"The late queen."
"Yes. The king—he misses her very much, and—if you had news, it would... help him greatly."
But Mithrandir was shaking his head. "She had not yet left the Halls when I departed."
Taensirion closed his eyes for a moment. He had hoped... "Oropher, then? His father?"
"The same."
"Ah..."
"I am sorry I do not bear good news." But now he squinted at the elf. "I do believe, however... hmm, yes, yes, I remember now. They spoke of you."
Taensirion raised his eyes from the stone floor. "What?"
"You look very much like a couple of elves whom I did meet. Idhren, I think, and Nella?"
A gasp. "You... you knew my parents?"
"Both in Valinor, and long before. They are quite well, I assure you."
Taensirion did not bother to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. "And my sister?"
"Does she resemble your daughter? Clever girl, by the way. You should be proud."
Taensirion sniffled loudly. "She—she does. And I am."
The old man smiled kindly. "Walk with me a ways, and I will tell you what I remember."
"Of course."
I wrote this in two days! Just not in two consecutive days. Oh well.
Yes, I named Taen's parents. I named his sister, too. Minuial. Which means Dawn, so I guess two of my characters have the same name, sort of. His parents' names mean "Wisdom" and "Bells".
Wow, my character development has gotten so out of control.