Prepare for the next few chapters to be full of fluff
All air left my lungs in a crushing rush as my legs were pulled out behind me, and I fell forward. The shock of it loosened my grasp on my sword, and it clattered uselessly out of reach. There was no time to acknowledge the pain as my body sped across the forest floor, dragged towards some horror I could not yet see. I scrambled at the ground with frenzied poring hands but could not find any purchase. All I got in return was dirt-filled fingernails and scratched palms.
I screamed with everything I had when the sight of the company disappeared from view. Alone, I had no hope of fighting what was on the other end of this. I threw myself onto my back, determined not to let the spider blindside me. When I saw the eldritch horror of squirming limbs dragging me closer, my scream caught in my throat. It appeared so much larger when it loomed over top of me, a gargantuan monstrosity blocking out the light.
It almost sounded like it was snickering at me, laughing at my panic.
It reared back, preparing a poisonous blow. But I refused to go without a fight and tore through the sodden undergrowth for whatever I could grasp onto. I felt the rough, jagged edge of a rock on the cusp of being too large for my hand. With a shriek loud enough to match the spider, I swung, aiming for its monstrous face. The rock crunched into the side of its mandible, and an unexpected blast of power burst out of me, singeing hair and chitinous skin in kind.
The spider was thrown to the side with the strength of the blast, legs flying out behind it. I fell back, my head striking the ground hard. The dark, twisting canopy above me wavered in and out of focus, and acid burned a path up my throat. I lay there for a few seconds, just concentrating on my breathing.
That was a nice surprise.
I hadn't expected to be able to call my power after how much I'd drained myself over the last week. It was definitely a good thing they convinced me to get to rest for a few days, or I would most certainly be dead right now.
The spider's body twitched rapidly, not quite as dead as I had hoped, and I recoiled violently. I couldn't fight back: I had nothing left in me. With a cry in my throat, I tried to wriggle away. My body just about cooperated, shaking and uncoordinated. I wouldn't make it far.
Before it could get fully upright, a dagger wedged itself firmly in its head. Followed by an angry elven mother twisting the dagger out and slamming it into its torso. The spider curled up around the blade, its screeches fading to nothing. In the distance, the sound of fighting continued on.
I managed to get my body into a seated position. The lightheadedness from using my magic started to dissipate, albeit slower than it usually did.
"Mum!"
Mum yanked the blade from the spider with a sneer. Then she turned towards me, and her face softened.
"Oh, Leah," she whispered, kneeling down next to me and checking me over. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
I rolled my shoulders and mentally checked for any injuries. After finding only a few sore muscles, I realised that I was mostly okay. "I think I mainly just feel woozy from magical exhaustion."
Mum nodded. "I think I can help you out with that," Mum placed her hands on either side of my head. The warmth of her fingers was a comfort. "Now, I haven't done this in many years, but it's like riding a bike."
Before I could ask what she meant, she closed her eyes and began muttering under her breath. A string of Sindarin so fast I could barely catch it. A faint glow caught in my peripheral vision. With a start, I realised that Mum was healing me. After a few seconds, the nausea lifted, and my head began to clear. I felt better than I had done in days.
Mum's hands fell away from my face, and her breath came out in rasps. "That took a lot more effort than I remember. I think I may be a bit rusty."
Despite the situation, I found myself laughing. "What happened to 'oh, it's just like riding a bike'?"
"I help you, and this is the thanks I get," she said, though there was a smile on her face.
"Thank you, Mum," I said, leaning forward once more and hugging her tightly.
The sudden absence of fighting was glaring, almost unsettling. The shouts that once vibrated through the thickened air like a plucked violin string, stopped, and the silence that followed sounded strange, hollow. What happened? How had the dwarves fared?
Kili!
The last thing I saw before getting whisked away was a spider bearing down on Kili. The fangs had come so close to his face, mere centimetres away from disfigurement. A shot of fear rushed through me for his well-being. Obviously, he wasn't dead, or I wouldn't be standing, but something else could have happened to him.
My gaze shot down to the bond between us. It still remained strong, a vibrant cord that linked our lives together. Would it change if something was wrong? I pulled on the bond. Both to symbolise I was okay and to ask if he was. It wasn't long before I received the same gesture back, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Mum clambered to her feet and reached down to help me stand. The ground, thankfully, remained steadfast and steady below me. Snippets of arguing, clipped and angry, filtered in through the trees. I couldn't make out the words, but I could pick up on the feeling. Mum and I shared a look and slipped closer, careful to stick behind trees and hide our footsteps.
The spiders around us either lay dead at our feet or had fled into the forest. When we reached the company, we hid behind the thick trunk of a tree. New figures had entered the forest, rounding up the dwarves into the centre of the clearing. Elves. They towered above the dwarves with haughty, unimpressed expressions. I flipped from face to face with avid, desperate longing. Inspecting their nose, their hair, their eyes, anything that I could find familiarity in. A couple struck me as people I had seen before but could not recall the names of, and the others were strangers. My heart sank when I could not find a flash of blonde hair or my brother's smug smile in the mix.
One of them shouted an order, and the dwarves were marched away in single file. My stomach twisted. This was not the outcome I wanted. It would only increase the tensions between the elves and the dwarves.
"Should we interfere?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
Mum shook her head, "That may do more harm than good. We may startle them and end up on the bad end of their arrows," she whispered. "It's not every day that your late queen rises from the dead. They may think me some malevolent wraith."
That was true. We weren't exactly the most put together right now, filthy and covered in spider effluence. "Well, we need to follow them, at least."
None of the elves indicated that they had heard our conversation. Too focused on the angry dwarves they had captured. I hoped Mum was going to give them a piece of her mind about how to handle visitors to your kingdom once we reveal ourselves.
The company was nearly out of eye-line. I did not wish to stray too far from the group in case the swarm returned. Mum grabbed my hand and made to move from our hiding spot. Only for her to freeze in place and clap a hand over her own mouth. Before I could ask what was wrong, another elf appeared from the trees. He twirled something in his hand and I realised that it was my sword.
"No more spiders," he said, his sharp blue eyes sweeping across the forest floor. The exact same shade as the eyes I saw reflected in the mirror.
I knew that elf. Would always know him.
Elves have this uncanny ability to look upon another and see their soul, their Fëa, that which makes them who they are. When I looked upon the soul of that elf, I saw home reflected back at me. So like my own yet streaked through with a shining uniqueness that belonged solely to him.
Legolas.
My twin.
He looked so different. Taller, older, less soft around the edges. No longer the smiling pudgy-faced brother that was only 15 minutes older than me. This elf had been through so much, had grown up alone, gone through hardships, been through awkward moments, and I wasn't there for any of it. All at once, I was hit with just how much time we had lost together and the agonising unfairness of it all.
I felt my throat tighten, and it took a Herculean effort not to make a sound. My muscles were taut, ready to spring myself at him, yet at the same time cemented in place by an irrational, growing fear. It was him, but my mind tried to convince me that it wasn't real. An illusion. If I took a step towards him, it would shatter and disappear.
Legolas looked our way, lingering for an aching beat of my heart before turning to follow the others. Each racing step away struck a chord in me, and it took a moment to reorient myself. To feel like I could function once more.
Mum had fallen to her knees, clinging to the tree with everything she had. Her storm, grey eyes shone more intensely as tears gathered and threatened to spill.
"It's him," she said, her voice a strangled whisper, "My little boy."
I felt the telltale sting of tears in my own eyes as I watched her battle with her own feelings.
"It's really him," I echoed. A distinct sense of unreality hovered on the edge of my periphery. This was happening, but none of it felt real.
Mum took several deep breaths before wiping her face, wicking the moisture away with her hands. "I should have just run out to him, but I froze like an idiot."
"No one can criticise you for being shocked. I was frozen too."
"But we might have lost our opportunity to talk to him alone. There's just so much that I want to say to him. So much to explain."
"I know, I know," I said, tucking my hands under her arm and pulling her upwards. "We need to catch up. The quicker we are, the quicker we will see him again."
"Yes, of course, you're right," Mum straightened up and looked more composed. She reached for my hand and held on tightly. "Come on, darling."
Mum led me by the hand towards the convoy of elves. They weren't too hard to follow as the dwarves made one hell of a racket, ensuring their captures knew just how angry they were. We caught up with them quite quickly. Legolas' hair was the most prominent among them all, and I couldn't help but watch him. At the sure-footed way he moved or the way, his eyes crinkled at something funny.
It was hard to remain unseen as we tailed them. My elven grace could only go so far. I still had to consciously try to make no sound. Every now and then, one of the elves would whip their heads around, scanning the trees for signs of a threat. Mum and I just about managed to dart behind a tree in time.
The forest around us began coming back to life. Dappled sunlight shone down through green canopies. Sounds of questionable lurking evil disappeared, and the calls of real woodland creatures echoed through the air. The further we walked the more I seemed to recognise. I knew this path. I knew those trees. They pulled at distant memories and long-forgotten truths. Each one soothing scars I thought had healed but had merely laid dormant. Only after finally returning did I realise how much I had missed my home. How had I ever forgotten about it? This place seemed as much a part of me as my body did.
The gateway to the elven kingdom slowly came into view. It was ornate and carved out of the mountain itself. The pillars were made to look like the interweaving branches of a tree. Their shape was so natural it looked as if they had always been there.
Mum and I stopped when the gate came into view, not daring to venture closer. Guards were stationed along the edge of it. They remained vigilant and armed. Bows at the ready. Any sudden movement and they may fire before we could plead our case.
I was internally debating the efficacy of distraction in my mind when a body appeared out of the corner of my eyes, entirely out of thin air and close enough to reach out and grab my arm.
A high-pitched squeak of alarm left me before a small hand smothered the sound and pushed me backwards.
"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Bilbo whispered. "But I couldn't figure out a way to show myself without you screaming."
He chose the worst time imaginable to make himself known. I wanted to hit the damn hobbit around the head for scaring me, but I forced myself to be still and glared at him instead.
Legolas, who had remained towards the back, quickly spun around, eyes taking in everything in front of him. I pressed myself as close to the trunk as I possibly could. The rough bark scratched against my cheek. I waited for what felt like an age before risking a glance at the gate.
The dwarves had all been pushed through, and the gate was closing behind them. With a breath of relief, I saw that Legolas was gone too. He must have followed on.
I removed Bilbo's hand from my lips. "They could have accidentally shot at us."
"I know. I'm sorry. I just saw the two of you and ran over. I wasn't really thinking."
"If you two would stop bickering," Mum huffed from behind us. Her pink hoodie stood out like a beacon against the forest backdrop. "I know a way inside."
Bilbo's eyebrows drew together. "You do?"
"Lead the way," I said, pushing Bilbo's question away for now.
Mum nodded to the right and sloped away in that direction. Bilbo and I shared a look before we followed along after her.
She led us around the outskirts of the halls. They were protected by high stone walls interspersed with more of those carved tree pillars. The odd few guards patrolled the very top but they became fewer and farther between as we snaked our way around. The whole of the border seemed rather impenetrable to me, and I was ready to question Mum's memory. There was every chance whatever entrance she remembered was long gone or replaced by something else.
But Mum let out a low "Yes!" and crept closer to the wall.
I darted my head around for signs of a stray guard. When I came up empty, I shot over to Mum. Bilbo followed closely behind. Mum examined one of the tree pillars closely, furrowing her brow and tracing the air above it. At first glance, it looked identical to the others, a solid stone likeness of rough bark and twisted knots.
But then Mum placed her full hand on the trunk. A blue glow began to seep from the points of her fingers into the seams of an invisible doorway. Whorls of patterns emerged, beginning at the top and dripping down like melted wax. With a pulse of light and a collection of sparks, the doorway settled into reality.
"Galadh," Mum breathed, and the stone split in two down the centre. It creaked open on invisible hinges and unveiled a secluded garden beyond.
Galadh? The Sindarin word for tree? Something about the password made a giggle catch in my throat. "What is this? 'speak tree and enter'," I snorted.
"Oh, hush," Mum said, guiding her way through the doorway.
"You really need stronger passwords. Throw some numbers in there. Spice it up a bit," I said, passing under the archway. I felt a brush of something as I passed through the surface. Like the feel of a gossamer veil over my skin. I had to wonder what other enchantments were imbued into the passageway. Probably spells linked to the protection of the walls.
Bilbo slipped through last and frowned at his surroundings. "Oh, I thought elves were rather big on keeping their gardens well-kept."
"They usually are," Mum said, worrying her bottom lip.
I could see where Bilbo was coming from. This corner of the garden was completely overrun. Grass came up to your shins, and weeds strangled the life out of other plants. Stone chairs had been left to crumble, and statues had been left to disintegrate in the rain. It looked like no one had come to this garden in a long while.
Yet only a couple hundred metres away, the grass was green and fresh and trimmed. The flowers were tended to, and the trees were in full bloom. This abandoned patch felt deliberate. It tugged on my mind.
But not just my mind. An intangible sensation crept over my skin. Almost like how the bond reacted whenever I was close to Kili. The way it fizzed and sparkled, full of life and vibrancy. This was like that, only more diluted. My eyes drifted down to my chest. The golden tether linking me to Kili drifted towards the mountain, but it was no longer the only line I could see. Tiny, white strands no wider than a piece of hair stretched out and away from me. Somewhere to my left.
Mum and Bilbo had already started moving towards a large set of ornate doors at the far end of the garden. I, however, turned towards a new destination.
The white bonds led me towards a wrought iron gate, completely coated in vines to the point that you could not see beyond it. The lock had been smashed open and lay rusted on the ground. The Sindarin words that once decorated the very top of the gate had snapped off or been destroyed intentionally. But this body remembered what it once said.
Liriel's Garden.
The words of my Adar echoed back to me.
"Your magic flows through it now. So that means that it will bloom for as long as you live."
Last I saw of this place was within my Adar's memories. The ones Galadriel had shown me. It was broken, decaying and desolate. All life within snuffed out along with my own. So then, why did I still feel connected to it, as if a part of me was buried in that soil? Bursting anticipation bubbled beneath my sternum, and I turned the ancient handle.
The garden beyond was teeming with life. A chaotic collection of flowers and foliage, all competing for space. A real gardener's nightmare. And it was just as I remembered it.
They seemed to react to my presence. An almost imperceptible twist in my direction. I traced my finger along the petal of a flower, and I could feel the vibration of life below. It was strange and spirited and simply glorious.
Did this grow back when I returned here? Had this garden been a silent signal to the ones I loved most? A confounding sting of hope for them to cling to?
The thought brought comfort to my heart as well as a new urge to cry whorling up within me. I swiped my eyes before it could fully start. This was ridiculous. If I wasn't careful, I would dehydrate by the end of the day.
"Tell me why I should not shoot you where you stand, trespasser."
I had been so engrossed in my surroundings that I had not heard anyone approach. I stilled, breath catching in my throat. Slowly, I raised my hands and spun to face my would-be attacker. The first thing my eyes caught onto was the business end of an arrow aimed right at my head. The next was the person on the other end of it, glaring at me with eyes the same shade as mine.
Legolas must have followed us around the walls of the kingdom and into the gardens.
"You can't really be a trespasser in your own garden," I said, voice thick. I tried to smile, but it was a weak and wavering thing.
"What do you mean?" Legolas' hands shook, suddenly unsure. He glanced over my shoulder into the garden beyond. His angry, accusatory gaze guttered out, and a new inner turmoil played out behind his eyes.
"All of it has regrown?" he whispered to himself. Uncertainty and a hint of fear plagued his voice. "I thought it was a single shoot. How? I don't understand."
His eyes shot back to me, piercing, bearing down into my very soul. His stare was desperate and searching, roving across my face for an explanation that made sense.
A single tear rolled down my face. Legolas caught the motion with a look of confusion. He was so close. My twin was here, but he didn't recognise me. That was its own kind of pain.
When I was younger and more naive, I refused to believe that my twin had died. He couldn't be dead. That just wasn't a concept that a six-year-old could comprehend. Instead, I believed that he was just lost. I would scream at Mum and tell her that he just needed to find us. He would find us, and we would be happy again. Years passed, and I grew out of such childlike fantasies.
And yet here he was, having found us after all this time.
"It's me, Legolas," the words almost didn't want to come out. Scared he would reject them. "It's Liriel."
Legolas lost his grip on the bow. It clattered to the ground as he stumbled back. "No, no, you cannot be. This is cruel."
I reached for him, and he flinched. I felt it ricochet back to me as if I had been struck. Please. I wanted to beg. I'm telling the truth.
"Darling," came a soft voice from behind Legolas.
A small, broken noise welled up from somewhere vulnerable within Legolas. His face crumpled as Mum came into view.
"Nana?" his voice cracked on the word, and he slumped to the ground. The grass absorbed the impact of his fall with a soft thump. He reached out to her, fear lingering in his eyes. As if he was scared she would melt into the mist at any second.
Mum fell to the ground with him, reaching a hand towards his face. "My Legolas."
He gasped when her hand made contact. A tangible hand, not a ghost, or a figment, or an illusion. He grasped onto the hand as if it were a lifeline. "Nana."
"My little boy. You're not so little anymore."
Legolas lunged forward and captured Mum in a hug. He clung to her so tightly, breathing in the scent of her. Mum's hand stroked through Legolas' hair.
"How? How?" He kept repeating it over and over again. "How are you here?"
"It's a long story," Mum held Legolas's face in both of her hands, wiping away tears with her thumbs. She drank in his features, desperate to take him all in. A wobbly smile stretched across her face. "All that matters right now is that we're here, and we're not going anywhere," said Mum.
I sank down, too, determined not to be left out of the group hug
"Liriel?" he breathed.
I nodded, "Legolassie," I said with a stupid grin.
My response surprised him, and he let out a startled laugh. Without hesitation, I dove at him, encircling him with an ironclad embrace and throwing us both to the floor. His own arms wrapped around me with equal eagerness. I could no longer hold in the torrent of tears as I finally hugged my brother.