Chapter 57

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The words didn't register in Legolas's brain. It was as if a gear had gotten stuck or his brain had simply shut down. How could he understand the phrase after months of believing he had been orphaned?

The words simply did not compute.

"What did you say?" It wasn't very princely, but at that moment, he didn't care.

The guard nervously shuffled on his feet, his soft armor brushing familiarly, and gripped his long spear tighter. "King Thranduil ordered the patrols to pull in closer to the villages. He fe—"

"When did he say this?"

The guard blinked. "A fortnight ago, my Prince."

That would've been months after Legolas had heard his father was dead.

Through the numbing shock, Legolas felt Lumornel step up beside him. "Is he well?"

Garavon furrowed his light eyebrows in confusion. "Who? The King?"

Lumornel nodded, her luminous white hair shifting.

"Yes, the King is well."

"So... he's not dead...?" Lumornel asked bluntly with hesitation. An odd combination, but very much her.

The fire of alertness sparked in Garavon's eyes and in a blink, his posture tightened and his hold on the spear was loose enough for him to thrust forward.

"Daro," Legolas said firmly. "She means no harm."

"My Prince—"

"Up until just a few moments ago, I myself thought the King dead."

The guards blinked again in surprise, but he didn't back out of the threatening posture.

"If you cause her harm, you will have my wrath descended upon you," he nearly growled. Legolas then returned to a lighter tone, trying to act as if his blood wasn't racing with joy, doubt, and anticipation all at once. "But you needn't worry about that. Lumornel would have you on your back before you could even move your spear."

It was a reprimand as much as any, to openly doubt a warrior's skill—as much as it was true. Legolas knew he'd have to patrol with Garavon at some point soon, at least boost the ellon's morale and let him know his prince was not angry with him. And let him know that no warrior could go one-on-one with Lumornel and win. Not while she had that star-light singing within her. Maybe even while she doesn't.

Legolas, with Lumornel at his side, briskly walked into the entrance of his home. The long, wide 'hallway' was more like a long, empty corridor with stone pillars carved into the likeness of trees. A perfect place for an elfing to hide from a nanny, then slip out the exit into the awaiting forest.

Lumornel gazed upon the carving and guards in amazement, her eyes struggling not to become the size of saucers. Then he remembered she hadn't been through here as much as he. Legolas tried to keep his gaze from her, tried to stop the pain. Yet it came. His eyes always found their way to her, she was like his personal magnet. Not looking at her and acknowledging her loving spirit and blinding beauty was like trying to catch the wind.

Legolas strode through his home, trying to keep himself from running. So, he drank in his surroundings, the fact that he was home. For so long he had wanted out, had wanted an adventure of his own. Like the elves of old. But he didn't realize how much he would miss his home, his people, his father. Mirkwood was simply the place for him to be. To belong.

The guards acknowledged him as he passed, either in a phrase or in the straightening of their posture. As if their spine had been a string and it was suddenly pulled taut. Their commander, general, prince was back. Finally.

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