Woodland Prince

Chapter 2

Harthor

"I think that is fair, my young student," Elrond exclaims, patting him on the back. I think he would be happy if Arthon went to study dwarven politics if it got him out of Rivendell. The boy gets himself into plenty of trouble.

Arthon gives us each a warm smile then continues toward the library. I am sure he has a book he wants to read.

"Why would you suggest studying with his father?" I groan. Elrond crosses his arms and shakes his head at me.

"Have you ever told him about either of his parents? He deserves to know who he is and where he came from."

"I have told him what he needs to hear. Which is that his mother died in battle with his father." That answer makes his life far less complicated. Knowing his father gave him up to spare himself the pain of loss would cause more harm than believing both parents died honorably.

"My friend, he is going to find out eventually. Is it better to tell him yourself or wait for someone he does not know to tell him?" Elrond asks. Always with the rhetorical questions.

"If he chooses to go to Mirkwood, I will not stop him. But I cannot bring myself to admit the truth to him. If someone recognizes him, which I would doubt because the rest of Middle Earth thinks he died with his mother, then he will proceed as he sees fit." Elrond shakes his head in disagreement, but does not argue.

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I follow the sound of music to Arthon's room. He is turned away from as his fingers dance over his flute. It's a sad tune, but I do not immediately recognize it. I stand in the doorway for a while and admire the decor of my nephew's walls. He keeps the blades I gave him crossed over an old shield across from his posted bed. A painting of Rivendell across from the entrance, and shelves and shelves of books everywhere, all perfectly organized in alphabetic order I would guess. Nothing is without a place. Even the fibers of the rug appear brushed and even.

"Uncle! I did not hear you come in," Arthon exclaims, nearly dropping his beloved instrument. He turns back to his desk and places the flute in a simple case and walks over to his armoire. "I have seceded that Mirkwood may indeed be a good place to study, if for no other reason than to learn what not to do," he chuckles, folding a cloak carefully and placing into a travel pack.

"Are you sure? I believe that there is plenty for you here-"

"No, uncle. I must travel outside this scholarly refuge and into less traditional places. I know I did not seem interested at first, but I believe that I am ready for the challenges that Mirkwood has to offer." If only he knew the challenges he'd face if he was discovered.

"I'll not stop you from your travels, but I also cannot join you now."

"You're not coming with me?" Arthon gasps.

"I have too many demons waiting for me in Mirkwood. And it may be best for you if you do not mention your relation to me at all. It could put you in a compromising situation."

Arthon looks sadly puzzled at my warning but nods and continues to pack. I watch as he slides his mother's blades into the belt on his hips and cannot help but miss my sister. I wish she could have watched her son grow. He holds his leather riding vest and wait patiently for my help. I help him into the light armor and walk with him to the stables.

He looks down at me from the back of his stallion and smiles. "I'll only be away for a few months, Uncle. Then you will have to help me got into Lothlorien to study," he laughs. I smile faintly and guide his mount's head toward the front of the barn and send him on his way, knowing in my heart that he may never return to this sanctuary.