Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess
Chapter XV: No Memory, No Grave
Dale, 2940 TA, December 29
The Elvenking found no solace in the calm of the night. With the revelry of the celebration concluded and Legolas departed, an uneasy restlessness gripped him. The sweep of his long, silken robes trailed behind him as he paced the corridors leading to his chambers, the urge to ride out and retrieve Legolas nearly consuming him. An unfamiliar burden settled upon his shoulders this eve, one that lingered not within the verdant boundaries of the Woodland Realm but instead found its weight in concern for his son. Memories of his conversation with Gandalf, conducted in the wake of the tumultuous Battle of the Five Armies, flooded back to him.
The words exchanged with the wise wizard echoed in the Elvenking's mind, resonating with both guidance and forewarning. Gandalf's counsel had woven of apprehension within him, that now seemed to unravel, revealing threads of unease as he pondered Legolas's path beyond their realm.
"Thranduil, how long must you keep him sheltered within these halls?" The Grey Wizard's words cut through the Elvenking's thoughts. "How long will your enchantments shield him?"
Thranduil withheld a flicker of annoyance, knowing Gandalf's insight held truth. They weren't discussing any elf; they were discussing his son, his sole heir. "You've suggested this before, Mithrandir. I won't risk my son's safety on mere hope. The Woodland is his refuge; here, he's secure," the Elvenking asserted.
"It's time to release him, Thranduil," Gandalf's tone held an unusual edge. "He will remember, eventually. The memory of his plea to the Queen lingers. He'll recall more. Shielding Legolas won't help anyone. You understand that."
"I do," the Elvenking sighed heavily. "It's been too long since Legolas remembered. Yet, there's little to recollect. The Queen was taken, and Legolas was saved by the guards. No memory, no burial, no closure! Only whispers of her demise in Gundabad."
"How many times have you sought her? You even cornered orcs claiming her death. Neither you nor Legolas are to blame. Let the past fade. Grieve for your Queen as you need, but don't drag Legolas into that darkness."
Thranduil couldn't bear witnessing his son's agony, preventing it with the enhancement from Elrond and Gandalf to shield him from the grief. However, lately, Legolas slept, a rarity reserved for wounded or sorrowful elves. Not just sleeping, but troubled dreams haunted him. The time for the enchantment to wane approached.
And it did. Legolas remembered, and there was much to recall. The Queen's capture in an orc assault, guards fighting futilely, and only Legolas and one guard returning to the Halls of the Elvenking before the guard's demise. The Queen's death left Legolas blaming himself for suggesting the ill-fated journey.
"He can face this burden; he's my son," Thranduil asserted, grappling with his guilt. Yet, the recent inexplicable sorrow in Legolas troubled him. Despite the enchantments' protection fading, this strange melancholy felt unfamiliar.
"I've sought her countless times, Gandalf, dispatched many in search. Nothing, no memory, no resting place. I sought to spare Legolas from anguish, but I've only inflicted more confusion and pain," Thranduil admitted.
"You must set him free. Let him forge his path," Gandalf urged. "It may be arduous, but he'll find his way. Trust me."
"I shouldn't trust you, Mithrandir, but I know I can't confine Legolas any longer. It's time for him to navigate his own journey," the Elvenking acknowledged solemnly.
Legolas found solace within his father's halls, their warmth and brightness a stark contrast to the shadowed depths of Mirkwood's dense forest. Despite the grandeur of the chambers and lofty passageways, returning to the Elvenking's halls felt like a homecoming. Yet, now he soared beyond the confines of the Halls, liberated from its warmth. Riding freely, the open sky remained elusive, hidden behind the intertwined canopy that veiled the light.
Accompanied solely by his steed, a horse he had pursued relentlessly, a creature traversing parts of Mirkwood shunned by most others. From the first sighting, Legolas yearned to claim it as his own. Riding beyond the borders of Mirkwood was forbidden, yet whenever an opportunity presented itself, he embarked on solitary rides. The mare was one of the wildest, and his heart longed to tame it.
His pursuit of the mare had been fraught with challenges. Time and again, he'd been thrown and injured, yet persisted in winning its favor, a testament to his determination and patience.
Today, he wished for the cold, arrogant veneer to envelop him, to embrace the spoiled prince he could sometimes be. He longed to shirk the responsibility of departure, to choose familiarity over forging his own path. Yet, he could not.
The journey had commenced long ago, memories resurfacing, laden with guilt and an insatiable need to sleep, to momentarily escape the relentless ache and encroaching darkness. His only solace lay in slumber, where he was ensnared in a deep, displaced realm. There, a faint echo of his mother's voice serenaded him, a lullaby long lost to the recesses of his mind.
"In the emerald realm where moonbeams play, Lies a kingdom veiled in starlit sway. Beneath the boughs where whispers weave, A lullaby for thee, my dearest leave," he recollected the initial verses and the melody, only to lose them with each awakening. Though each night might have cradled his mother's tender song, each morning brought forgetfulness of the lullaby.
His intended itinerary, charted by his father, would introduce him to new places and faces, guiding him toward an encounter with an individual not yet of adult age. However, that itinerary would have to wait. There was an unresolved matter weighing heavily on Legolas's mind. Every return to his homeland seemed to cloud his intentions as if an unseen force obstructed his thoughts.
Yet, circumstances had shifted. Unfettered by the constraints of royal protocol and unimpeded by the expectation of his imminent return, Legolas found himself liberated. He could now ride unfettered, unrestrained by schedules or obligations. And where did his heart lead him?
Mirkwood.
Ironically, within Mirkwood lay realms forbidden and feared. Whispers echoed of uncharted territories, tales of lost souls, Enchanted Maidens, and captive elves. Some parts of Mirkwood remained inaccessible, harboring stories of those who had vanished without a trace. Legends spoke of ethereal beings, Enchanted Maidens some called them, dwelling in the depths of the forest. Meanwhile, deeper within Gundabad's recesses, bands of orcs held slaves captive, ensnared in their sinister clutches.
Legolas's plan was clear; he would scour every corner, and investigate every myth, now that time and freedom lay at his disposal. His expedition would commence within Mirkwood, then meander along the trails of whispered rumors. Though he had initiated this journey to carve his own path, there lingered questions unanswered, echoing silently in his mind, queries left unaddressed by anyone.
His quest was singular: to seek the Elven Queen lost in part due to his actions. He sought closure, sought answers. He possessed the strength to reconcile with the notion of her permanent departure, to grapple with the burden of her demise resting on his shoulders. But the absence of definitive answers gnawed at Legolas, compelling him to embark on this solitary odyssey.
Legolas charted his course toward Dale, a bustling town set amidst the rolling lands beyond the Elvenking's Halls. The journey, typically undertaken on horseback, followed a rhythm of 30 to 40 miles covered each day. His steed, known by a name resonating with the essence of Mirkwood's ancient woods, possessed a grace and speed that could condense this travel time to a mere week. However, this expedition held no sense of urgency, allowing for a more leisurely pace.
Recollections of an intriguing interaction with Bard in Dale resurfaced in Legolas's mind. Amidst the joviality and commerce of the town, Bard had shared tales of the perilous nooks within Mirkwood. Legolas, well-versed in the darker enclaves of his home, understood the depths where shadows thrived, where traversing alone meant courting danger. In those obscure reaches, humans often vanished without a trace, ensnared by the forest's ominous embrace. Bard's familiarity with these whispered legends left an impression, though, during that prior encounter, Legolas hadn't probed deeper into those foreboding stories.
The day when Legolas would go on a quest to investigate those ominous passageways on his own was not something that Legolas had anticipated at that time. At this moment, his mind continued to dwell on these shadowy stories, pondering the twists and turns of destiny that had led him to contemplate journeying into the very heart of Mirkwood, where darkness and mystery were intertwined with every old tree and whispering wind.
As Legolas traversed the familiar road toward Dale, his gaze often sought the heavens, yearning for a glimpse of the sky obscured by the dense canopy. The desire to pause, ascend a towering tree, and savor a breath of untainted air teased him. Yet, an unusual despondency hung heavy upon him, making the prospect seem like a justifiable penance for traversing through the eerie and stifling atmosphere.
Despite the palpable eeriness, Legolas found solace in the familiarity of the terrain, granting him a measure of comfort that extended his journey longer than intended.
Midnight descended when Legolas opted for his first stop, choosing carefully among hidden locations where his steed could drink from untainted water sources. The Enchanted River of Mirkwood, once teeming with life and vitality during its Greenwood days, now harbored an ominous aura. Its waters, forbidden and tainted, posed a dire threat to any who dared to quench their thirst.
In reminiscence, Legolas recalled a time when the forest was vibrant, alive, and resonating with an ethereal harmony. Every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass had whispered secrets to him then. Yet, now, all seemed muted, as if life itself had been engulfed by the encroaching darkness.
His thoughts drifted to his father's innate connection with nature, an ability to navigate the shadows and commune with the very essence of the forest. A talent that eluded Legolas entirely. The weight of the darkness felt suffocating, a force capable of crushing him under its immense burden. The stark contrast between his father's mastery and his own perplexed him, leaving him with an unresolved longing for a connection that seemed forever beyond his grasp.
Before settling down, Legolas rummaged through his bag and unearthed some berries, a safe and familiar provision. Setting aside a handful for Arodil, his spirited steed, he left them within easy reach before strolling toward the closest tree, seeking a moment of rest.
Leaning against the sturdy trunk, his watchful gaze lingered upon Arodil, contentedly savoring a drink. Horses raised in the shadows of Mirkwood, unlike their wary counterparts, were accustomed to the gloom and remained undisturbed by its eerie depths. Meanwhile, Legolas nibbled on a few berries, reflecting on recent conversations with his father, Tauriel, and Nienna—how swiftly circumstances had shifted.
Once surrounded by many, now solitary save for his equine companion, Legolas found solace in the solitude. It provided a canvas for self-discovery and the pursuit of answers regarding his mother's fate. Lost in contemplation, he allowed his thoughts to wander freely. The journey had rendered him introspective, prompting a gradual acceptance of this newfound isolation.
In the embrace of his musings, fatigue overcame him. It was a rare occurrence for Legolas, yet he surrendered to the embrace of sleep without resistance. Within this slumber, fleeting and infrequent, lay the sole opportunity to hear his mother's voice once more—a whisper from the ethereal realm that only visited him in the realm of dreams.
Enveloped by the all-encompassing darkness, Legolas found himself submerged in the deepest abyss of shadows, a labyrinth from which escape seemed futile. Within the shroud of obscurity, a faint murmur resonated—a delicate whisper carrying the cadence of a cherished melody. "In the emerald realm where moonbeams play," the tender voice began, weaving a serene lullaby that gently drew him deeper into the realm of dreams.
With the lingering mesmerizing tones, Legolas experienced an irresistible allure, reminiscent of a recurring dream. He dashed through the darkness in an irrational quest for the elusive voice that reverberated within his slumber. As he progressed, the eerie melody grew more intense, guiding him along a pathway shrouded in an impenetrable gloom.
Yet, as he traversed further into the shadowy abyss, the voice grew louder, resonating with the familiarity of childhood memories. It was his mother's voice, ethereal and gentle, serenading him with the same lullaby she had sung to him when he was but a child. Amidst the swirling darkness, her song became a beacon, a tender embrace in a realm where shadows held sway.
In the emerald realm where moonbeams play,
Lies a kingdom veiled in starlit sway.
Beneath the boughs where whispers weave,
A lullaby for thee, my dearest leave.
Hush now, dear prince, in slumber's embrace,
Where ancient trees their secrets trace.
In Mirkwood's heart, where shadows wane,
Rest, my son, in nature's reign.
Softly sings the woodland stream,
A lullaby, a tranquil dream.
Moon's gentle glow, a tender caress,
Guiding thee to peacefulness.
Oaken sentinels, stalwart and wise,
Guard thee 'neath the starlit skies.
With love that flows, a ceaseless stream,
In the cradle of an elven dream.
Dreams, my darling, take flight on breeze,
Through whispered leaves and moonlit seas.
In the realm where magic dwells,
Sleep, my prince, where enchantment swells.
So close your eyes, my precious one,
In Mirkwood's embrace 'til dawn has spun.
This lullaby, a sacred art,
A mother's love, never to depart.
May this lullaby echo through the woods,
Guarding thee in enchanted moods.
Rest now, my prince, in gentle sway,
In Mirkwood's arms, till break of day.
As Legolas stirred from his slumber, a palpable sense of disorientation clung to him like a heavy fog. His eyes flickered open, haunted by remnants of the dream that had ensnared him in the depths of his subconscious. Startled and disconcerted, he found himself in the wake of an emotional storm, his heart gripped by a poignant mixture of sadness and longing.
A profound sadness lingered in the wake of the dream, a stark contrast to the serenity it had initially held. His chest tightened with an inexplicable ache, the ghostly echo of his mother's voice haunting his waking thoughts. For a fleeting moment upon awakening, he felt an overwhelming sense of loss, the memory of her tender lullaby lingering in the recesses of his mind like a bittersweet refrain.
Legolas sat up, his features etched with a mix of bewilderment and sorrow. His gaze, unfocused yet laden with a deep-seated melancholy, scanned the surroundings, grappling with the transition from the haunting dream to the stark reality of the shadowed forest around him. The remnants of that ethereal melody lingered, a haunting echo that seemed to cling to his very being.
Though he longed to unravel the significance of the dream and the emotions it stirred, its meaning eluded him, leaving him adrift in a sea of unanswered questions. With a heavy heart and a lingering sense of sorrow, Legolas grappled with the enigmatic dream, its aftermath tugging at the fragile threads of his emotions, leaving him in a state of forlorn contemplation.
With a deep breath and a resolve to press forward, Legolas rose from his resting spot beneath the shadowed canopy. The dense foliage above obscured any hint of daylight, leaving him uncertain whether the world beyond the trees was bathed in the glow of dawn or cloaked in the veils of night. Yet, the passage of time mattered little amidst the enveloping darkness of Mirkwood.
Firmly determined to resume his journey, Legolas untethered Arodil, his trusty companion, who stood patient and steadfast amid the shadowed grove. He cast a lingering glance around the dimly lit forest, gathering his bearings and steeling himself for the continuation of the enigmatic path that lay ahead.
Mounting his steed, Legolas set forth along the known road that wound its way toward Dale. The Mirkwood shrouded in an ethereal gloom, whispered secrets and foreboding tales with every rustle of leaves and creak of ancient branches. Shadows danced at the periphery of his vision, a constant reminder of the mysteries lurking within this forest realm.
The journey unfolded as a haunting melody of uncertainty and solitude, each step forward laden with the weight of the unknown. Legolas navigated the winding path, Arodil's hoofbeats echoing amidst the quietude, guiding them deeper into the heart of the forest.
Days melded into nights, and nights merged seamlessly into days as they journeyed through the tangled labyrinth of Mirkwood. Legolas remained vigilant, wary of the forest's dark secrets and watchful of any signs that might lead him astray. The familiar road, though obscured by shadows, guided their path toward the distant horizon where Dale awaited—a beacon of hope amidst the obscurity of the forest's embrace.
As they persevered through the eerie silence and ethereal gloom, Legolas remained resolute, his determination unwavering. Arodil carried him steadfastly, their journey marked by an unyielding pursuit, a quest to uncover truths veiled within the enigmatic depths of Mirkwood. Each passing mile brought them closer to the outskirts of Dale, a destination shrouded in both anticipation and uncertainty, where answers and revelations might await him.
As Legolas emerged from the depths of Mirkwood's gloom, the city of Dale came into view, its sprawling streets and bustling markets a stark contrast to the shadowed silence of the forest. Arodil carried him steadily, their journey through the enigmatic woods culminating in the vibrant cityscape that lay before them.
Upon entering Dale, Legolas navigated through the winding alleys until he reached Bard's dwelling. Disembarking from Arodil, he tethered the noble steed nearby before striding towards Bard's abode, a sense of purpose guiding his steps. Bard greeted Legolas with a welcoming nod as he entered, the familiarity between them evident in the ease of their exchange. They settled into a quiet corner, the weight of unspoken matters hanging in the air.
They exchanged greetings before proceeding in a leisurely manner along the crowd congregated around the city ruins, diligently purifying and mending the damaged structures. They had a lengthy discussion in advance. Legolas leaned forward, his gaze earnest as he broached the subject. "Bard, your plans for Dale sound promising. But what of your intentions for the city's future? How do you envision guiding its growth and ensuring its prosperity?"
Bard's eyes glinted with determination as he responded, his voice steady with conviction. "I aim to foster unity among the people, to strengthen trade, and to fortify the city's defenses. Dale has endured much, and my goal is to build upon its resilience, ensuring a future where its citizens thrive and its legacy endures."
Satisfied with Bard's vision, Legolas shifted the conversation towards a topic close to his heart. "I've heard tales of those who vanish within its shadows. Do you possess any knowledge or guidance that might aid those who find themselves lost amidst the forest's darkness?"
Bard nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the gravity of Legolas's inquiry. "Indeed, the depths of Mirkwood hold secrets that few dare to unravel. I would guess you kind new more about it. There are trails and paths known to a select few, offering a chance of safe passage through its labyrinthine expanse. Yet, such knowledge is elusive and guarded closely by those who have navigated the forest's perils."
Legolas sat in contemplative silence, his features drawn into a mask of introspection. His eyes, usually alight with an inner spark, now held a somber intensity as he processed Bard's words. With deliberate movements, he inclined his head slightly, signaling his readiness to respond.
"We, elves, are well-acquainted with the dangers of Mirkwood. We tread cautiously, steering clear of the regions cloaked in impenetrable darkness. Our kin is vigilant; we seldom find ourselves ensnared," Legolas replied, his countenance poised, betraying no hint of the emotions that churned within.
Bard regarded Legolas with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, unable to discern the underlying reason for the elf's deep interest in their lore. "In our time, such misfortunes have dwindled. The incidents occurred beyond the ancient Forest Road. Some claimed to have heard a woman's enchanting song, luring them astray into the forest's depths."
Legolas' demeanor momentarily shifted, a fleeting expression of both curiosity and concern flitting across his features. However, as Bard's gaze met his, his visage reverted to a composed calmness. "If genuine research is your pursuit, attempting to cross the old Forest Road by night might yield insights. But you understand the risks."
"My safety is of little concern," Legolas retorted, his focus fixed more on unraveling the mystery than his own well-being. "Is there anything else that might aid my quest?"
Bard paused, stepping away briefly to retrieve a tome that his younger daughter had gathered nearby. Flipping through its pages, he reached the final section and presented it to Legolas. "This is where the song begins," Bard stated, passing the book to the elf.
As Legolas perused the pages, his expression shifted abruptly. His usually composed demeanor shattered momentarily, replaced by an astonished visage etched with disbelief and recognition, as if the words before him held a profound significance that pierced through the veil of his understanding. Legolas took a deep breath reading what was written on the last page of the book:
In the emerald realm where moonbeams play,
Lies a kingdom veiled in starlit sway.
Beneath the boughs where whispers weave,
A lullaby for thee, my dearest leave.
((Upcoming Chapter Sixteen))
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