The Silvan (Lord of the Rings-Legolas)[Wattys2016]

Chapter 65: The Silvan Side

The people smiled, warriors saluted, and children squealed in delight as he passed, and Legolas couldn't remember a time in which he had been happier. He was at peace with Amareth, had gained a great aunt in Marhen who was fast becoming a rock in his life. He had another brother, Rinion, and a beautiful, wise sister in Maeneth; there was also the promise of a friendship with Llyniel, whose father had finally sent word of his consent that very same morning.

There was only one thing left for him to do now. Seek the tree of his birth and learn what he may, for if there were indeed, more answers to be had, only there would he find them. Once he had seen it done, he would return to the fortress and speak with his father at last, close the wound that had stood open since he had been old enough to have conscience of himself. It would mark the end of the mystery that his life had been, complete his story, give to him a past he had never had, and had always feared.

He had escaped Narosén, Amareth and Marhen, and had taken himself to the river to bathe, for he had wanted just a few moments to himself, to think and to centre himself. His stomach churned at the thought of the day's events - and the evening that would follow for it would be full of pomp and protocol. It was not that he did not understand it, but he had always imagined himself on the observing end of it, for Legolas was a warrior, not a prince.

And yet with today's ceremony, he realised he would, paradoxically, become freer than he had been these past few weeks. He would be Warlord, and, after a brief visit into the deep forest, he would return to his duties under the guidance of Captain Duronel. Five years - it would lend him five years of relative calm in which to learn and prepare and after that... well, time would tell, he mused, for to see past that moment was nigh on impossible for him.

His mind sharpened, back in the present once more and he watched as giggling young ladies waved at him and then laughed and ran, their innocence bringing a smile to his face for the first time that morning. Children and young lads climbed the trees, hanging all manner of decorations upon their branches, and not one seemed to have been left without a coloured glass lantern which would later give them soft light in which to dance and to kiss.

They too, poked their heads around the thick tree limbs and smiled at him as he passed. They did it for him, for their families and their people, for their warriors - they felt important once more, proud of who they were and Legolas quickened his step for who was he to deny them this moment?

His self-indulgent thoughts disappeared as quickly as they had invaded him. This was his duty, to bring the forest together - he would not let them down - he would not let himself down. He would do as Lainion and Handir has asked of him. He would shine - for them.

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

The fortress was akin to a beehive, buzzing with tempered excitement and frenetic activity. Elves scurried here and there, carrying boxes and bags, chests and scrolls, and even now, the Great Hall was still being decked for the occasion. Standards hung from the vaulted ceilings, the noble houses of the Sindar represented proudly upon thick velvet and golden inlay, relics of the elder days when heroes still existed, when the people still believed in them.

Only sturdy, wooden doors separated the Great Hall from the Great Plateau that jutted out majestically, high above the Evergreen Wood, hidden treasure of Thranduil's realm. Those doors stood wide open now, for the first time in many centuries for the king had ordered that their secret be shielded no more, for such beauty, he had said, should never been hidden away.

Upon the rocky outcrop, Lanterns had been placed around the perimeter, and the trees that grew there had been adorned in the Silvan fashion, with ribbons and flowers, stones and feathers, and below them, nestled between the roots, there were plush cushions where guests could sit more informally and still hear the music from within; indeed it was here that the party would, predictably, come to its end - just as predictable as the fact that once the celebration had finished at the fortress, it would continue back at the Silvan camp - of that, there could be no doubt in anyone's mind, least of all in Thranduil's. He still remembered the parties he had once been at liberty to enjoy, with Lassiel's arm in his - when spite and power had not yet stepped between them and ruined it all.