Shadow of Angmar

Chapter 17

Legolas has always been a curious elf. He loved wandering the woodland, even as an elfling, thus how he found a dying elleth in Greenwood. It was nothing new to have him tag along if there was something he was interested in, especially if it helped him get away from his prince duties. But never once did he show any refined calling into forging weapons, particularly swords, until recently.

"My prince, maybe you should step back now. It's dangerous." The blacksmith said, more annoyed than anything.

For the past few years, Legolas became interested in swords, a weapon that he strongly disliked in the past. It was flattering at first, mostly because he was watching with eager eyes and admiration. But then Legolas returned the next day and the next and so on and the crouched, rather tanned blacksmith grew weary of his presence.

"I just want to watch, not interfere. I want to see the work put into sword making. Is it different from before?" He asked, amongst many other curiosities. "Has anything changed from master forgers in the past? Like from Lindon or Gondolin?"

"I do not know what you want me to say. Every blacksmith has its own personal creative way but the materials are the same as they have always been." Said the blacksmith, feeling tired already.

"Can you place dark magic into a sword?" Legolas asked after a moment of silence.

The blacksmith sighed before he moved the prince out of the way. He had to forge more than one little sword and he has been working overtime since his days were full with silly questions.

"Maybe. But a mere blacksmith cannot use magic easily."

"Prince Legolas, the King would like to have a word with you." A guard came in and announced.

Legolas looked up at him and nodded, not noticing the relieved expression on the blacksmith's face.

"What's with him? Still not bored of coming around?" Asked Miluinir's older brother, who looked like a rougher version of the healer. He did look like he could fit in with the guards if he were to dress in armour.

"He's asking me about swords all day long. He expects me to make him one, I believe. But I cannot understand what kind; he always asks about magic. There is no magic in our business...it's only hard work." The blacksmith said grumpily before he returned to his work.

Thranduil was in the library, looking over the maps brought by Faervel. But every so often, his mind would drift toward other subjects, some of which were giving him nightmares. His eyes rose to the door when he heard it open loudly and his son rushed in.

"Ah, Legolas, I'm glad you made time for me in your busy schedule," He started sarcastically, his eyebrows narrowing at his son.

Legolas glared at his father but didn't utter a word, curious about what the king was planning.

"I have already discussed it with Faervel and from now on you will go on patrol," Thranduil announced, waiting for a huge smile to appear on Legolas' face. However, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"I thought you disliked that idea,"

"Something that I dislike even more is having my son interrupt the work of my men. What is that you find so interesting in our blacksmith, Legolas?" Thranduil asked leaning back in his chair.

"Mistril never quite liked our swords. When she trained with me, she always had a hard time finding a fitting sword for her...talent." The prince said, trying to find a good word for her skills. "She always said that if she were to fight for real, these swords will break or get stuck in the armour of the enemy. She also mentioned magic and- " He stopped seeing how his father got up and approached him.