Four days had passed since that strange day when he had walked away from one life, and entered another, amidst strange dreams, sensations and revelations. Everything had changed and yet nothing at all, save for himself and the physical changes that would forever mark that moment in his life.
He had spoken to The Company, had explained everything that he could, and they had pledged their service - to him - as if he were a commander. But he wasn't.
So too, had he spoken with Elrond and his family, of the revelations the sentinel had relayed to him, with the unexpected result of confronting Elrohir with his trauma, the one that had hindered him for centuries. Legolas did not know if Elrond's son would thank him for that, indeed he had taken a slap across the face for his efforts.
A calloused hand slowly rose and touched his smarting cheek. He just hoped it didn't look too bad, for he had no wish to explain its origin to anyone today; there was too much to do.
With a heavy sigh, he turned to one side, facing now the slowly dawning day as he enumerated his duties. Breakfast with Glorfindel and therefore, with Elrond and his family, command training with The Company and the Noldor, twin blades with Glorfindel, and then, when day turned to evening and the evening meal was over, he would write the letters that would be taken to The Greenwood together with Elrond's official missives. There was no obligation of course, but therein lay Legolas' predicament; who to write to, what to say, where to begin!
It was an insurmountable task and he felt like laughing, it would be a bitter one though, born of utter frustration and a sense of magnitude that would not leave him. Amareth, Turion ... his father...
He turned to the small table beside his bed, his eyes landing heavily on the scroll that lay there. He reached for it and read the last line once more.
'... although we do not know each other, I hope that one day, we will...'
He breathed heavily once more. There was no denying it. The arrow was in his quiver now, and protocol screamed that he should answer. On the bright side, he had the whole day before him, and for the first time in four days, life did not seem so bad. Aye there was a distant weight in his mind about his eventual return home and everything that entailed, but it still seemed so far away, and there was so much still to achieve here.
Resolved to enjoy the rest of his time in the Valley, he rose, dressed, and tidied his hair as best he could. Cut it? came Elladan's tentative suggestion from the day before but nay - how could he? In Silvan culture, hair was an extremely important part of an elf. To cut it was near sacrilege, akin to scarring oneself purposefully. He shivered at the thought and resolved to get a handle on controlling the unruly mass.
As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he realised that his cheekbone was going to cause him some strife though, for Elrohir's ring had cut it, leaving a small red line sitting over a purple bruise. His mind began to fumble for an explanation, but The Company would not be easy to convince, especially Idhrenohtar.
Straightening his green tunic, he left his room, bound for the dining halls, only to come face to face with a startled Elladan.
"Aiye Legolas!"
Legolas simply smiled at the Noldo's expression, before cocking his head to one side.
"I came to accompany you to breakfast, warn you of Elrohir's strange mood and to see if his impetuosity left a visible mark; I see that it did," he sighed in exasperation.
"I have been searching for a believable excuse for the last few minutes, but my imagination is playing me foul," scowled the Silvan.
"Legolas," said Elladan as they walked, "I just wanted to thank you, for last night. It brought closure to me and my father - his joy is equal to Elrohir's turmoil this morning. You will find the high table a study in Elven psychology."
"The High Table?"
"Aye, if you will accompany us?"
Legolas held Elladan's frank gaze before nodding. It was a saving grace in one way, at least he would not have to face The Company and their over-protectiveness.
And so, as they came to the halls and the din abruptly ceased, as it had done for the past few days now, Legolas calmly walked on, ignoring the curious stares and whispered comments that today, were even more obvious than they had been.
"Legolas," greeted Elrond warmly, rising to his feet and gesturing to a seat beside Glorfindel, his eyes only briefly straying to the bruise on his cheek. Glorfindel, however, was staring at it with slanted eyes and Elrohir, Elrohir simply looked to the side while Mithrandir's eyes twinkled with a hidden wisdom Legolas could only guess at, for he and the wizard had not gotten off to a promising start.
It was Handir, however, who made the first, inevitable comment no sooner Legolas had bowed to Prince and Lord, and sat.
"What happened to your face, Legolas? A training accident?" he asked, and Legolas was not quite sure if he had picked up on a note of sarcasm in his brother's voice. A quick glance at the Sindar confirmed his suspicions and suddenly, the atmosphere at the table turned awkward.
"In a sense, my Prince," said Legolas as lightly as he could, unable to meet the prince's glare. He did not, however, miss Erestor's calming hand upon Handir's forearm.
"In what - sense?" asked the Prince slowly, dangerously as his blue eyes strayed to the Noldor before him.
"Prince Handir," said Elrond, his tone lighter and more carefree than Legolas remembered it, "last night, Legolas revealed to me and my family what is the cause for much joy. However, during the course of that conversation, emotions ran - high - "
"I hit him," interrupted Elrohir miserably. I gave in to my emotions and slapped him even before I could register what I did," he said boldly. "I am sorry, Legolas, truly, and I know the disdain I will garner from those close to you will be punishment enough for me."
Almost before he had finished, Idhrenohtar had appeared behind Legolas, his body rigid, his face set in an eerily disturbing blankness that promised painful retribution. It was as if he had always been standing there, yet the still moving cloth of his underskirt gave him away.
Legolas rose to his feet and turned to the Wise Warrior. "Stand down, Idhreno," was all he said and the warrior nodded stiffly before turning back to his table, eyes lingering on Elrohir.
"Well, there you have it," said Elrond, clearing his throat and then reaching for the toast.
Legolas sat once more, aware of the stares he was receiving. "Elrohir," he said, his voice momentarily startling the miserable Noldo. "I forgive you, and I understand you - more than you know," he said, before turning to the food on the table, aware that Elrohir's eyes were upon him.
"So tell me, Legolas," asked Handir. "Do you have letters to send with the envoys tomorrow?"
Legolas froze for a moment, before answering his prince. "I do, my Prince. I will deliver them to you this evening if that is acceptable?" he asked.
Handir simply nodded, eyes glancing over his warrior brother while he was not looking, well aware, it seemed, of the implications of his question and yet unwilling to speak of it here, in public. And of course, Legolas knew that he knew; another chore for his otherwise full agenda for a day that had started on strange footing indeed.
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It was after command training that Elrohir sought Legolas out, incapable of drawing out his own misery any longer. What surprised Legolas though, was that he was in the company of Handir.
Puzzled, he sat upon a bench and turned expectantly to Elrohir, for the elf had already publicly apologised. What more was there to say? he wondered.
"Legolas," began Handir. "I have had a long and interesting conversation with Lord Elrohir. He has spoken to me of what happened in the gardens, of what you said last night," he said softly before adding, "paradoxical, is it not?" he said with a sad smile.
His meaning was all too clear to Legolas, for he spoke of their own family trauma, of Handir's mother and his own.
"Yes, there is a clear parallelism that cannot be denied," he said. "My mother, Lassiel," he added as if he had not at first thought to mention her, "she faded for love, allowed herself to disappear from the lives of those she loved, an act Lord Elrohir described yesterday, as cowardly."
Said bluntly it sounded antagonistic, but it had not been his intention, and Elrohir seemed to understand that.
"I was wrong, Legolas. I had never thought of my mother's predicament in the way you brought it to my mind yesterday, that by sailing she would preserve her life for me, against her own wishes so that I could see her again at the price of her own suffering."
"And where does that leave my mother, Elrohir? Do you think her cowardly for allowing herself to fade? Do you think the Queen of The Greenwood a heroine then, for leaving for Aman?" asked Legolas.
"Until yesterday I would have said yes, and yes. Their situation was the same, in a sense, with each of them taking an opposite decision. Yet now, today I cannot say. If I have learned something with all this, Legolas, it is to think, really think, from all the possible perspectives, to be sure of the truth before I judge. It will make me a better councillor for my father."
"Then I am glad. Truly, Elrohir."
"You are a good elf, Legolas, just as your brother is. He and I will become good friends," he predicted, his mood clearly lighter now that he had spoken plainly, "just as you have already become with Elladan."
Legolas smiled, but it faded a little as his eyes briefly caught those of his brother for now, the seed of doubt had been planted in his own mind. Had his mother faded for cowardice, because she could not face life without the king, in spite of the child she had given life to? a child that would need her and that she would deny the love of its mother?
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He was exhausted and as evening turned to night, Legolas sat in the privacy of his rooms, a blank parchment before him, as blank as his mind. He had finished his letters for Amareth and Thavron, the words flowing freely as he spoke of his training, of his new friendships, of how he missed them and his aunt's pea soup. But now, when it was his father he would address, he simply could not decide where to begin, what to say, what tone to say it in.
He thought then, of his father's letter, the one he had read more times than he cared to admit. The king had been reassuring, if nothing else and it was, perhaps, all Legolas needed; to know he would be welcomed in The Greenwood ...
My Lord king...
It is, indeed, difficult to know where to start or what to say, and so I shall be sincere.
I thank you for your reassurances regarding my eventual return to The Greenwood. Admittedly this was a point of concern and I am glad it has been resolved.
I wish to thank you for the opportunity you have provided me with, for I am taking great advantage of my time here in Imladris. Commander General Glorfindel has seen fit to tutor me personally in the finer points of my military skills, and Lord Elrond as also been most gracious in his knowledge of lore and history.
I sincerely hope that I may put these skills to use in The Greenwood as has ever been my desire, my calling.
I assume I will be escorting Prince Handir on his return to our kingdom, three months hence. I will, of course, report to you immediately, for as you have said, there is much to discuss, many questions I would ask, and a new development I must speak with you about.
Until then, my king ...
There, it had been simple enough once he put his mind to it and so he re read the letter, and when he had finished he leaned back in his chair with a scowl. His own discourse sounded completely normal, if not a little distant for words uttered between father and son, but where was the pain? where was his righteous anger?
It had left him, he realised, it was no longer at the forefront of his mind, no longer that which mattered most. Now, it was simply the fact that he had a father, one that did not reject him that had taken precedence over those negative emotions.
He felt lighter, better than he had for many years, and although he still did not understand it all, understand his mother, at least he had reached that pivotal moment in which he would not judge, not until he was in possession of the facts, for it was not only Elrohir who had learned his lesson.
He smiled, and nodded, a minor concession to himself and his achievement, for it was not a small one; indeed that weight had accompanied him all his life, he was so used to it that now, its absence left him floating on a cloud of well-being. I have two brothers, one sister, a father, and a mother with a name who resides in Mandos, and that I may see one day, in the distant future when all is done.
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"My Lords, please be seated," exclaimed Erestor, watching as one by one, the guests at this closed council took their places around a long, rectangular table in the famed library of Imladris.
The doors, always open, were now firmly closed, two guards beyond to ensure none trespassed on their lord's council.
Elrond, decked finely in his dark burgundy robes, sported a head dress Legolas had not previously seen. It was a striking piece that also served to keep his hair away from his face. To one side sat Chief Councillor Erestor and to the other, sat Lords Elrohir and Elladan. Further down were Prince Handir and finally, seated next to Legolas himself, was Commander Glorfindel.
All of them wore braids and jewels that denominated their status, their lordship, some in the forms of head dresses, while others wore rings or even necklaces. Only Legolas sat in his warrior uniform, nothing but leather ties to bind his hair away from his face, and the braids at his temples that marked him as a master archer.
With a bow to them all, Legolas sat, sparing a soft smile for Elrohir, whose own answering smile was wider.
"Now that we are all present, may the council begin. Lord Elrond?" prompted Erestor before sitting.
Elrond stood in a whoosh of fine cloth, his braids dancing around his temples.
"This council will be the second and final part of our talks of some weeks past," he began. "And now that we have word from the Greenwood, it is time for decisions to be made," he said, his eyes moving from Handir to Legolas, and then ultimately, to Mithrandir.
"My first duty, is to make a literal reading of King Thranduil's band, which will be read during the first Greenwood Summit currently taking place in your homeland, Prince Handir. It has much bearing on our talk," he said as he reached for the scroll and opened it.
"By Royal Decree, the elf known as Legolas Amarethion will now be named Legolas Thranduilion. As such, he must be addressed with honours and titles as befitting a son of the House of Oropher - from this day forward, Lord Legolas Thranduilion."
There was stunned silence around the table, and Elrond looked at them all before resting his eyes on Legolas, who stared back at him numbly.
"Needless to say, we do not know what impact this will have on The Greenwood, as the summit is ongoing. However, it is to be assumed that not all will agree with the king's decision," he said, sitting and waiting for the debate to start.
It was Handir who stood to speak first.
"I do not think proclaiming Legolas a lord will be any surprise, once he is recognised as a son of the king. It is a necessary act of protocol; dissent will arise if and when he is given some official function, for with that task comes power. Lord Bandorion will not take kindly to having the balance upset; he will react and try his best to move his pieces, to garner the sympathy of those already against my father, and those that are undecided."
"I will travel to The Greenwood when you return, Prince," said Mithrandir. "I feel it is paramount I reestablish talks with your father, get a feel for the political situation. It has been too long since I traversed those lands."
"You would be welcome to travel back with us in a few months time, if you so wish, Mithrandir," said Handir with a nod, to which the wizard said nothing.
Legolas though, saw and heard nothing of what was being said, for his mind was reeling. Lord... Lord Legolas. It sounded stupid to his ears for he had not earned that title, had done nothing to merit being regaled with such honour. He had always wanted to earn his achievements, had always resented those that used their privileges to gain notoriety.
"But what of the Crown Prince, my Lord? What of his stance in this, for you hinted that he was, in some way, sympathetic to Lord Bandorion's faction," said Erestor, a hand stroking his chin.
"My father has used the term 'minimally hostile' with regards to Rinion's attitude towards Legolas. I believe the king has secured an official stance from Prince Rinion," he said, before frowning and adding, "it is difficult to ascertain whether my brother's words of admiration for our uncle were said sincerely, or with the sole purpose of irking our father," he trailed off, as if it had only just occurred to him.
"We must garner the truth," said Mithrandir. "Between Handir and myself, we should be able to render a true enough map of the Greenwood's politics.
"Mithrandir," said Handir, standing once more, "why are you so concerned with the internal workings of The Greenwood?" he asked, his eyes sharpening on the wizard.
"Why would I not be? Anything that happens in the Greenwood concerns us all," said the istar lightly.
"I will not condone yours or anyone else's intervention in our politics, unless my king is explicitly in agreement that they do so. You give opinion where you have no public voice to do so."
There was an edge to Handir's voice that could not be denied and Legolas straightened in his chair, suddenly aware of the awkward atmosphere that had overtaken their council.
"A wizard always meddles in the affairs of elves, child," said Mithrandir kindly, but it was not, perhaps, the wisest approach, as Handir's reaction proved.
"Mithrandir," he said slowly, his eyes glinting, "this is hardly the moment for flippant comment. I understand that Lord Elrond needs a measure of knowledge in order to agree on an official stance regarding Legolas, after all, he has been in the Valley for some months now and needs to communicate with my king on this subject. That does not mean you or anyone else, may extrapolate and 'meddle' as you so readily admit, in the affairs of my father's realm.
Legolas was impressed. He had not seen this side of his brother's character. He was bold, that much was clear. He was no meek, bookish councillor; he was a strong, intellectual diplomat and he suddenly felt proud of him.
"Prince Handir," said Mithrandir, suddenly standing straighter than he had before. "My task upon Arda is to unite the free people, to bring harmony where I can. It is a given task, one I may not refuse, just as Lord Legolas here cannot refuse his own. As such, my authority comes from a higher source, my Prince."
Handir visibly stood down then, his voice and posture softening as he spoke once more. "And I am no one to gainsay that, Mithrandir. You speak so freely of intervening in the workings of my land and while it is your task to do so, from the inside it may be seen as interference," he explained.
"I am aware, my Prince. It would not be the first time I have been called an interfering old..."
"Mithrandir" said Elrond with a glint of amusement.
Handir sat then, and Elrond took the floor once more.
"It is decided then. Lord Legolas is to be counted amongst the noble elves and Imladris recognises him as such. Lord Legolas Thranduilion, welcome to Imladris," said Elrond with a bow. Legolas slowly stood, and bowed back, his face clearly showing how awkward he felt.
"You will get used to it Legolas," said Elladan with a smirk.
"I am not sure I want to," replied Legolas somewhat miserably.
"It is also my wish," added Elrond, "that Mithrandir travel with you, my Prince, so that he may talk with your father. Can you put this to your king?"
"Of course, my Lord."
"It would also be wise," he said thoughtfully, "to send my own envoy. It has been too long since I spoke to Thranduil..."
"Send me, my Lord," said Elladan as he stood. "I would represent Imladris if you would consent?"
Elrond frowned, his eyes glancing over Elrohir in silent question. Elrohir answered with a soft smile and a nod.
"If that is your wish, I will consent, Lord Elladan. We will speak extensively on the matter before you leave."
"Of course my Lord. Thank you," he said, as his eyes slipped to Legolas, who caught them and smiled for the first time that morning.
"Well, if there is no further business?" asked Elrond.
Silence met him and so, with brief words of thanks, Elrond brought the council to a close.
Legolas rose slowly, before approaching Handir.
"My Prince, I must have a private word," he said, to which Handir nodded, gesturing with his head that they leave, and as they did, Mithrandir shared a questioning glance with Elrond, to which the lord shook his head minutely.
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Commander General Celegon of Greenwood's army, thundered into the stone courtyard before the mountainside entrance to Thranduil's fortress, with the elves that had accompanied Prince Handir to Imladris.
Unlike their outbound journey, the trip back had been swift and safe and so, as he dismounted he turned to Lieutenant Galadan to issue his commands.
"See to the troop and then join me. We must report to our king," he said before adding, almost as an afterthought, "Galadan. This report must be considered confidential- tell your warriors to hold their tongues; we do not know what the king knows, what our people know."
"Of course, my Lord. I will meet with you shortly," he said with a curt salute.
Celegon nodded at the healers that had congregated before the main gates, holding up his hand, for today, by the grace of the Valar, their services were not needed.
He was dusty and tired from the long journey, but his report couldn't wait and so he strode into the fortress, through the halls, passing captains and lieutenants that saluted him respectfully, and even some of the more approachable councillors he had a measure of friendship with, but he did not stop, for to stop would be to talk, and that he could not do.
On he marched, until he reached the private wing where the Royal Family resided. With a nod at the ceremonial guards, he passed them and then stood before the king's study. Steadying his breathing and straightening his crumpled uniform he raised his hand and knocked, praying that Galadan arrive soonest.
"Come," came the familiar voice. Yet there was something in it that had changed, something Celegon could not quite place.
"My King," he said, standing to attention and bowing.
"Commander, welcome back," said Thranduil, turning from the window to face his general.
Celegon startled, for now there could be no denying it. It was not only the king's voice that had changed. He shone brighter than he had done when Celegon had left, his hair was pristine, his clothes rich and magnificent and the smile - the smile upon Thranduil's face he had not see for centuries. His own mouth turned up at the corners, although he was at a loss as to what had brought this change about.
"I know what you would say, Celegon. Much has happened since you have been away, I will brief you as best I can of course but first, what news do you bring from Imladris?" he asked, his head cocking minutely to one side.
"I bring - extraordinary news, my Lord, yet I am uncertain as to what, exactly, you are referring to?" he asked, and then felt utterly stupid for he was Commander of the Greenwood militia, he was to report of course, but what did the king know? and more importantly, what did he not?
Thranduil, however, surprised him then with a mischievous smile.
"I ask first and foremost after my sons," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Prince Handir is well my King. We wrote to you regarding the battle of course," he said, hoping against hope that the king would not ask further questions about it before he had had time to ascertain whether or not he knew... damn Galadan, he cursed to himself.
"I asked, Celegon, after my sons, for as you must know, I have two sons in Imladris..." he said, and there was that smile again. The king was toying with him and of a sudden he blew out a mighty breath, only to have Thranduil chuckle in his face.
"Forgive me, my King, I did not know what you knew..."
"I understand, Commander, and I have been unfair, I should have briefed you no sooner you arrived.
"Well now that is over with, perhaps I can give you my report?" said the commander, a little exasperated, before adding, "although perhaps it would be wise to wait for Lieutenant Galadan. He is seeing to the troop but will be here shortly."
Thranduil nodded, before gesturing to a comfortable chair. "Wine, Celegon? You must be tired, and your presence here, before you have rested, is telling of the news you bring," prompted the king as he poured the wine and handed one goblet to the Commander with an expectant glance.
But before Celegon could begin his account, the door opened, revealing not only Galadan, but Rinion and Aradan. Bowing, the three newcomers entered and stood around the king and Celegon. News travelled fast, as Celegon was well aware, and if the king knew of his third son, then it was likely the whole kingdom did too.
"My king, my written report to you no sooner we arrived in the Valley, was succinct; there are many details that I could not include, and others that have come to light after I sent it. I must now inform you of the - extraordinary - events that took place there. However, if I may, I must enquire as to the situation regarding Legolas. Do our people know of him?" asked Celegon carefully.
"They know of him, Celegon. Indeed we are currently immersed in talks and this is one of our primary debates, but please continue," he prompted, sipping on his wine as his keen grey eyes settled upon his Sindarin commander.
"On our final three days of journey to the valley, an unfortunate incident occurred, involving a trainee lieutenant by the name of Silor, and Legolas, a newly-trained Silvan warrior, or so I thought at the time.
Silor had all but dragged the warrior to my presence, claiming that he had disobeyed an order, and then thrown him to the ground. Naturally, I was immediately concerned; I will tolerate no insubordination, as well you know my king," he said, watching as the king nodded but remained silent. Rinion, however, was shaking his head in disapproval, and Celegon barely resisted the urge to reprimand the Prince for his premature judgement.
"However, the other Silvan warriors stepped forward to defend him, claiming that it was Silor who had moved to strike the Silvan warrior and that he had simply walked into another warrior who had blocked his passage. I must add, my King," he said with an upturned palm, "that said warrior is, indeed, particularly well built, shall we say. Legolas interrupted the discussion, claiming that an attack was imminent, something we already knew and were preparing for, but he insisted there would be two enemy groups. Unfortunately, by that time it was too late and the first wave of orcs hit us from the West.
Lieutenant Lainion departed with all haste with Prince Handir, making for Imladris while the rest of us did our best to form up and repel the attack. It was then we realised that Legolas had been right. The young Silvan warriors were attacked from the South, while Legolas fought with us on the western flank. We lost three and there were many wounded, indeed I myself was incapacitated and it was Lieutenant Galadan here, who took charge from there on in."
"You were taken by surprise," said Thranduil flatly.
"Yes, albeit it was Silor's distraction that sealed our fate. Yet the question remained, how did Legolas know what he knew...?" he asked, his sparkling blue eyes searching Thranduil's for an answer that was not forthcoming, and so he continued.
"Lieutenant Galadan and I spoke that very night, we spoke of our suspicions, for you see, my Lord, his appearance is nothing short of - striking - he is the very portrait of Oropher himself, except for his eyes, a green so vivid they seem almost unreal. And if this was not enough to draw conclusions, when we saw him fight, there could be no mistake."
"What do you mean?" asked Rinion.
"I mean, my Prince, that I have never seen an elf wield short swords they way he does. It is fascinating to the point of distraction, my lords."
This, from Celegon, was a mighty thing. He was old, experienced, had fought at Dagorlad, had seen the best warriors over two ages.
"Go on," said Thranduil quietly, under the intense stare of Aradan.
"The weather was foul and a frigid air fell upon our ruined camp, and then snow came and covered everything. Galadan, perhaps you should continue from here?"
"Of course, Commander. Between myself, Legolas and Galdithion, another Silvan warrior, we gathered the wounded and did what we could to make them comfortable, but we had to move and so Legolas fashioned what I can only describe as 'contraptions', harnesses that sat between horses, mobile stretchers if you will. We toiled for many hours to put them together and fit them to the horses we still had. And even then there was no rest, for we had to hunt, cook and gather wood. Tend to the wounded, as our healer was killed in the first attack."
"It sounds harsh," said Aradan thoughtfully.
"It gets worse, my Lord," continued Galadan. "The three of us began the two day ride to Imladris. It was painfully slow for with only four horses and eight wounded, and the freezing cold, the exhaustion from battle. We were sitting targets for the enemy.
At night we organised ourselves once more and set up camp. Hunt, collect water, tend to the wounded, guard the camp. Tiredness was taking its toll and the frost numbed our feet and hands. The next day was nothing short of torture," said Galadan, pausing for a moment as he remembered those torturous hours. At one point, Legolas turned to me, claiming we were being followed, stalked by wargs, it seemed, stray orcs he said. Again how he knew I did not dare guess, but I would not doubt his words, not after the attacks, not after the detail he had been able to provide us with.
It was that evening that our company split..."
"What, what happened?" asked Aradan, completely immersed now in Galadan's tale.
"Legolas turned to me and told me what I already knew. If the wargs came across us, we would all be lost. Three warriors almost dead upon their feet cannot protect eight wounded. He said he could fall back and protect us from the rear, buy us time to get the wounded to Imladris.
"Suicide," said Rinion.
"It was the only way, my Prince. We all knew that and it was then, as I looked at him, the determination on his face - I knew," he whispered, his eyes turning to the king who stared back at him. 'Be safe, my Prince,' I said... He stared back at me for a moment and there was fear in his eyes, before it was lost and he rode away.
That night, Galdithion and I sat awake and in silence, for the howls of the wargs kept us as alert as we could be, and the forest, the forest whispered of magic and all things arcane - it was a moment I will never forget, my King."
Aradan blew out a noisy breath, "Elbereth Celegon."
"Naturally," continued Celegon, we arrived safely and Lord Elrond was most welcoming. Of course, Legolas was still out there and after the first twenty-four hours without his return, we began to worry."
The king's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and Rinion had turned to the window.
"It was Lord Elladan who eventually found him. The strange thing is, that he would not speak of it, my King. He said only that the tree had hidden him so well he had almost missed him."
Silence ensued, until eventually, Thranduil spoke for the first time since Celegon had started his report.
"Was he alright?" he asked softly.
Celegon's eyes slipped almost involuntarily to Galadan before he answered. "He had battled with the wargs and had been wounded. Add to that the exhaustion he was already suffering. He slept straight for an entire day before he woke, battered and somewhat fevered. Elrond himself tended to him, and Commander Glorfindel was especially gracious with his time and attention to the child."
"When we are finished here," said Thranduil quietly, and then turned resolutely to face Celegon, "you will send Silor to me..."
"Of course, my King," answered the Commander, with another sideways glance at Galadan.
"My King. It was an honour to serve with your son," said Galadan boldly. The entire troop feel the same, the Silvans and the Sindar. He is brave beyond words and yet humble," he emphasised with a sideways glance at Rinion. "He is skilled beyond his years and he holds the favour of the trees," he added with a glance at Celegon now, for there was a detail they had yet to tell the king.
"Then I should be proud of him," said the king thoughtfully, as he held the lieutenant's gaze. He frowned then, his head tilting subtly to one side.
'he has the favour of the trees ...'
"What have you not told us, Celegon?" he asked, even though he looked at Galadan.
Celegon watched the king and then Aradan and Rinion who turned now from the window to look at him.
"He is a listener?" asked Rinion incredulously.
"No, my Prince," said Celegon, sadly almost. "He is much more than a listener. He has magic, green magic..."