Starting Anew

Strider

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With more than a dozen rangers at his side, front and back, Legolas was accompanied along forest paths almost as dense as what the Greenwood could boast. The foothills of Fornost were not a gentle country, and the winter only made them appear less cheerful. As their paths led the rangers and their elven guest higher and higher, the air became even thinner and the wind more biting.

These conditions hardly seemed to faze the rangers who called these lands home, much to Legolas's surprise. Most mortals would have been shivering in their boots and chattering their teeth with temperatures half as uncomfortable as this. The men of the Dunedain bloodline were hardy though, and spoke easily amongst each other with puffs of clouded breath. For the most part Legolas stayed silent and listened as he walked, his horse's chin occasionally reaching forward as if to nuzzle him reassuringly on the back of the shoulder. The gestures warmed the elf, and he smiled inwardly at the thought that he at least had one friend with him as they entered this strange new land.

It seemed that Legolas's horse was not the only one with an eye toward him though. The Sindarin prince could feel the eyes of the Dunedain all over his hooded back, constantly alert to his every step. Their leader, the young man by the name of Strider may have greeted him as a friend and bid him welcome, but that certainly did not mean these wary mortals intended to let their guards down. It felt strange to Legolas to be under surveillance like an unknown curiosity; he was quite used to being recognized everywhere he went for the past millennium of his life. When not among the elves of the Woodland Realm he was only ever found as far from his father's halls as Laketown, where the people knew him well enough as Thranduil's son. For the first time ever Legolas could be known as nobody but himself, and clearly would have to start from the ground up in building trust with these rangers.

For the entire duration of the journey to the Dunedain village no one sought to engage Legolas in further conversation, and he likewise held his tongue. Blue-eyed and dark-haired Strider walked near the head of their column, shoulder to shoulder with the man Beringil whom Legolas had thought to have doubted his truthfulness earlier. Rather than speak, Legolas took the time to observe this young human.

The man was no older than twenty, if that even. His beard was little more than dark stubble across his cheeks and chin, but it suited to make him appear older than he probably was. No doubt about it, there was something extraordinary in the way in which this ranger carried himself; something fluid and proud which set him about from the rolling gaits of his companions. Narrowing his eyes, Legolas thought hard but could not quite put a finger on what it was. With an invisible shrug, he resolved himself to put a name to it sooner rather than later. For that matter, he was resolved to put a true name to this Strider eventually as well.

When they entered the borders of the village of thatched huts, the families of the Dunedain came out to greet their returning patrol by the dozens. When the others realized their rangers had brought back a guest such as Legolas with them the general buzz of welcome turned to more wondering undertones. Even in his dark gray travelling cloak, Legolas stood out like a rose among sweet peas. Children openly pointed at him, causing the elf to mull over the choice between smiling at them or raising an imperious eyebrow. The later smacked strongly of his father and Legolas opted for the first.

Smiling broadly at the children and greeting the women and men-folk of the village alike, Strider was clearly a figure both revered and beloved by these people. There seemed to be no chieftain or lord to greet their party's return, and judging by the way the Dunedain were treating Strider he appeared to fill that role. This again puzzled Legolas, and he wondered that these people would readily follow one so young. Then again, he supposed that if Thranduil were to have fallen in battle, it would have been no question at all of the elves of the Greenwood taking Legolas as their king. As far as the reckoning of the Eldar went, Legolas was not much older than this Strider.

Shaking himself inwardly, Legolas thanked the Valar that his father was even now returned to their cavernous home to take up his throne once again. Considering all that had recently unfolded with Tauriel and the Battle of Five Armies, Legolas doubted his heart could have handled the loss of Thranduil and the subsequent kingship. Two broken hearts would not a very effective partnership make between a ruler and his Captain, even one so capable as Tauriel. No, it was far better that they both take the years needed to heal apart from one another. With the dwarf now dead, Legolas had seen in Tauriel's eyes that she did not want him to witness her grief anymore than he wanted to witness it himself.

Legolas was shaken out of his brooding thoughts when Strider turned from his welcoming committee and addressed him for all to hear. "And see here! We are joined by an elf come all the way across the mountains from the Greenwood itself. Please friend, tell us your name that we might greet you properly?"

All during the long journey here, Legolas had wondered about this moment. Should he return the favor of not knowing Strider's name by giving a pseudonym of his own, and in doing so not risk any chance that he would be recognized as the son of King Thranduil? Or should he be truthful from the very beginning with this mysterious ranger captain?

Strider's eyes flickered with a deeper knowledge at the elf's hesitation, and even more so when he made his choice and introduced himself.

"My name is Legolas of the Woodland Realm. Well met to you and your people." He placed a hand to his breast and bowed his chin in an elvish style of greeting. Yet again, the reflexive manner in which Strider mirrored the gesture pricked at Legolas's mind.

"Well met Legolas. We are honored to have you with us, and I look forward to drawing bows with you." With a glance around at the rangers where they still stood gathered in the village square, Strider winked. "But hopefully not too soon; we have been long in the wilderness, and could use a peaceful night's rest I think." The other rangers grinned toothily in agreement, and Strider waved a hand at them. "Let us go now and prepare for dinner...I can smell something excellent cooking on the air even from here!"

The women laughed appreciatively, and just like that the crowd began to disperse. Hesitating, Legolas had to look to Strider for his cue. He assumed he would likely be asked to bed down in a main hall of some sort, and in truth didn't mind the idea since a reverie could be achieved anywhere so long as it was mostly quiet. The notoriety of humans for snoring did somewhat worry him though.

As if reading his thoughts, Strider smiled and gestured toward a small house set slightly apart from the others. "Come. You are not the first elf to have paid us a visit, and we have quarters for you." When Legolas looked at him questioning, the ranger elaborated. "The sons of Lord Elrond of Rivendell often join us in the constant task of keeping these lands clear of foul creatures. They are not here presently, and so their cabin is yours."

As Legolas followed Strider toward a paddock to stable his horse, he wondered at these strange people. King Thranduil kept his folk close, and his son closest of all. That Lord Elrond would be sending his sons north to fight alongside the Dunedain must have extremely important implications. Adding this detail to the growing list of clues in the mystery surrounding Strider's identity, Legolas found himself actually curious now.

Who was this Strider, truly?

oOo