Okay guys, I got the last name thing sorted out! It's all ok now. I apologize that it took me so long to get this chapter up. I just kept pushing off writing it, and when I was actually able to work on it I had a hard time thinking of what to write. But I finally managed to finish!
dorina16able: Of course he can't, it's Gimli we're talking about here! And I simply adore those tight brother-sister bonds. I've always wished for a brother too.
MyCephei: Wow, thank you! I'm so happy you like the story! All in good time, lovely. :)
Issy: I see that now, thank you. And thank you for reviewing, I'm glad you like the story. :)
Aranel Mereneth: First of all, thank you SO MUCH for clarifying the Thranduilion/Thranduiliel thing. I saw the male version on another fic and tried to find out the female version, but with no avail. And her name means 'army or soldier'. I'm glad you like the story and thank you so much for reviewing.
The sky was cloudy the next morning and the usual laughter and cheer of the recovering city was nearly nonexistent. There was a chill throughout the city, left over from the night before. Aragorn held his cloak close around him as he stood outside of the citadel, waiting with his friends for the elves to come and say their farewells.
He hear the doors creak open and the elven siblings stepped outside; Legolas first, with Lasca following quickly behind him. This was the first time Aragorn really had a look at the Mirkwood princess since he was- 50? His image of her had faded greatly since then, almost to the point where he only remembered her lovely eyes.
He had to admit, now that his image of her was refined, that Gimli's mistake of declaring them twins was an easy one to make. They obviously shared the blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes that most Mirkwood elves had, but along with this their facial structures were quite similar.
"We have an audience." Lasca said as she and Legolas reached the bottom of the stairs, trying to lighten the tension.
Legolas had his eyebrows knit and seemed to be deep in thought, but when Aragorn approached he seemly returned to reality.
"I am deeply sorry, my friend." He said as he placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder, and the elf did the same. "I wish you well on your journey. Give your father my best wishes."
"Thank you Aragorn." Legolas said earnestly.
An awkward silence settled over the two, only being broken when Aragorn waved over a man and said 'this is Nestor, he is one of our finest healers. He'll be going with you.'
The elf glanced at Nestor and nodded. His arm slipped back to his side and he walked to say goodbye to Gimli.
Lasca now stood in front of the future king, looking him up and down as if inspecting a horse.
"Fit your criteria, princess?" He asked sarcastically, hoping she wasn't in as much shock as her brother.
The she-elf raised an eyebrow at his remark. "Don't get too excited. I'm examining your aging, seeing how you men are always doing that. Ruining your pretty faces with your wrinkles."
Now it was Aragorn's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Wrinkles? I assure you I have none."
Lasca stepped forward and tapped his forehead twice. "You have two. That's two more since the last time we met."
"Well as you said, that's what we do. Age and ruin our 'pretty faces'." Aragorn placed mock struggle on the last two words, as if saying them pained him. She gave a small smile in response.
"Thank you for taking care of Legolas. You have no idea how much I feared when I received word that he would be venturing on this quest." Lasca thanked him with seriousness and sincerity. "Thank you."
"I wouldn't give myself all the credit. Your brother helped me out of quite a many ruts. Even saved my life."
Nothing else was said between the two, only a hand on the other's shoulder; a sign of respect. And then both continued on, as if nothing had happened.
Half an hour passed and the elves were ready to leave. Both introductions and goodbyes had been exchanged, and their few belongings were strapped to the horses. An almost unbearable silence was over the city as the future kings spoke the final farewell.
And then they were off; two elves and a man racing through the cleared streets on horseback. They rushed through level after level until they reached the final gate.
Slowly everyone returned to their homes and businesses, their gossiping and bartering. But not the Fellowship. The four hobbits, man, dwarf, and wizard, all watched until the horses disappeared over the horizon, and continued to linger long after. Only when their stomachs cried like children and their heads ached did they leave. They left with an emptiness that would remain until they were reunited with their dear friend.
The ride to Mirkwood lasted 6 grueling days. Stops were rare, quick, and only happened if necessary. There were stops for food, instead they simply slowed the horses to a trot and quickly passed around lembas.
Everyone felt the pressure and the fear. Their minds all buzzed with the same questions and words that they all tried desperately to swat away. They needed to be there right now. This journey was taking entirely too long. What if their father passed on? More importantly, what if he passed on before they arrived? What if he was already dead?