After the storm and the aftermath, it seemed that summer had decided to bypass Fornost altogether. Before Legolas had felt the warmth of the sun on his face, the air began to bite again and the skies turned grey with ominous foreboding. But the dry weather held. In the forest, the leaves of the trees began to blush with glowing reds and oranges and curl at the edges before they gently began their descent. Wren had made the request to Strider to take the horses and show Legolas some of the high country, north west of Fornost, and in so doing evaluate whether there were any signs of orcs in the area.
Strider although pensive at the request, had given permission for the two of them to make the trip. Principally because he was eager to hear news from further North and there were few rangers who would be willing to make the long trip on horseback. But in addition, he had no great cause to fear for their safety, as they would both be mounted and were each particularly proficient at killing orcs at distance. They were however to report back immediately to the village, if any foul creatures were discovered in significant numbers.
They left at the break of dawn and set a fast pace for a large portion of the first day without speaking, as they had considerable ground to cover, before night began to fall. Legolas rode a beautiful black mare dappled with grey and white flecks, appropriately named Gil-galad, 'starlight' in Sindarin. A majestic chestnut stallion named Osgiliath, after the laketown in Gondor, carried Wren, as she rode with ease. Legolas discovered that he enjoyed the liberty of being out of the village and the forest, with the wind rushing past him as they galloped over North Downs towards the hills of Evendim, Emyn Uial.
After traveling for many miles, they slowed the horses to a walk and rode side by side, to rest them. Her eyes had a new spark that lit them up, so much so, that he could have sworn they had flecks of gold in them. Truly, she must relish the wide-open space, free from constraints and duty, and feel rejuvenated, as did he. She looked over towards him, and examined him for a moment.
"Well elf prince, it would appear that you have finally settled into village life with the Dúnedain, your neck doesn't seem as stiff as is used to be."
He laughed dryly. "It would appear so."
"Cleaning, cooking, braiding your own hair... who would have thought this was all possible several months ago."
"Let it be known, that I have always braided my own hair" Legolas responded with feigned protest. "It is a skill you would do well to learn." He said with his eyebrows raised at her windswept, tangled mane, and a smile playing round the edge of his lips.
"Well if I knew you were also willing to tutor the Dúnedain in hair braiding, I would have let Gelwin know, she will be delighted. I imagine Rodorin will take some convincing..." Her mirth spilled out and her laughter floated on the wind.
Legolas chuckled and his heart felt light.
"We are approaching the open plains and the horses have rested, let us see how well Mirkwood elves can ride, considering you were raised in an almost impenetrable forest." Her eyes were alive and dancing, baiting him.
"At least as well as someone who is a tiny fraction of my age, I would imagine."
Legolas thought he saw a shadow flicker across her eyes, but her smile remained as she replied. "Well that remains to be seen, elf prince..." She then leaned forward, and whispered something to Osgiliath, the horse flicked his ears and with a brief shake of his magnificent head, picked up his heels and thundered off into a gallop.
Legolas shook his head as he watched her leave, but spoke softly to Gil-galad, who did not need much convincing to follow the departing chestnut stallion. Within minutes he caught up and rode alongside her. Wren turned briefly to look at him. Exhilarated and with a grin on her face, she lent low on Osgiliath and whispered again to him. Then rising back up, she let go of his mane, only to fling her arms out wide throw her head back, laughing in the wind as she sailed past the surprised elf prince.
Legolas was briefly stunned by her behavior, having never had the compulsion to do such a thing. But her energy and laughter was contagious. He took a breath and gripped Gil-galad with his knees and he too let go of her mane. Tentatively at first, and then without regret as he opened his arms, closed his eyes. As his lungs filled with air and freedom, he felt alive as never before.
They rode all day with brief intervals to rest the horses, until the open plains disappeared and the hills began to rise again. Rocky outcrops appeared, growing more numerous until they came to shores of a beautiful expanse of water. Lake Evendim, or Menial, which meant "Lake of Twilight" in Sindarin. Legolas stood in awe and appreciation of the view. The lake stretched for fifty miles north to south and was twenty miles across, perfectly reflecting the changing sky without a ripple in sight. The hills of Evendim rose up majestically with a purple hue, behind the lake on the eastern side.
"I have heard legends told of this lake, but never did I imagine it to be this beautiful."
Wren smiled, looking out appreciatively at the spectacle.
She sighed, almost wistfully. "I love it here. The forest is my home, but this place makes me feel truly alive and free." Then Wren turned and went to care for the horses.
Legolas pondered this thoughtfully, and was conscious that her sentiment resonated with him. They made camp for the night, on a ledge sheltered by steep rocks from behind with good visibility of both sides and a view of the lake in front of them. The sat together in comfortable silence as they watched the sun set, the colors transforming surrounding area as the lake reflected the light all around them.
"I fear there are no orcs nearby or anywhere in the area," Legolas said, breaking the stillness in the fading light.
She laughed. It made Legolas oddly happy to hear it. "Yes indeed, I fear you are right. However shall we keep ourselves busy?"
The elf chuckled.
She then looked intently towards him and said,
"If it not orcs you are afraid of, Legolas, what is it that you fear?"
Legolas sucked his breath in. He had never been asked such a question, let alone articulated the answer to himself.
He paused for the longest time while Wren looked intensely at him, probing for an answer.
"Fear of becoming my father," he said slowly. She waited for him to continue.
He began the story, haltingly as first. Then it began to flow as he re-lived the days following the tragic death of his mother. He remembered the long days and nights following that terrible loss. Thranduil had been like one caught in a waking dream. He walked the palace halls without eating or drinking, and Legolas told her of the terrible inability he had felt to help his father. He had been but an adolescent at the time, and the thought of Thranduil fading so soon after the loss of the queen had terrified him.
One night it had been too much to bear; he had sought out his father where he sat slack-faced and silent beside the pool of calm water within the palace. Taking Thranduil by the hands, he had cried and pleaded with his father to return.
As if stirred from a trance, Thranduil's gaze had finally come into focus. Looking Legolas in the eye, the elven king had risen and brushed the tangled silver-blond hair from his face. When Thranduil at last spoke, it had been in a different tone than what Legolas had heard from his father before. No longer quick-humoured and tender, Thranduil had seemingly adopted a veneer of polished steel. It was as though, the only way to preserve his broken heart had been to freeze it into a solid block of ice. Legolas never complained at his father's new demeanour of distance over the years. His father was all he had asked for, and he would take him in whatever form Thranduil assumed.
But the ice around Thranduil's heart grew and spread into every aspect of his reign. He was cold and sceptical of any outside influence on his Kingdom and his son. It had dictated his actions in the last one thousand years, as the woodland kingdom had cut itself off from the other eleven realms, as well as the worlds of men and dwarves. It had materialised in the callous disregard for all life, but the King's own kindred. The depths of which Thranduil had fallen to, were clearly demonstrated during the Battle of the Five Armies. Legolas tried to explain to Wren the compulsion and conflict he had felt, to obey his father and at the same time turn from him and his cold ways, and to forge a different path for himself.
"You are not your Father," said Wren at last.
As Legolas looked in her eyes, he knew it was true. He had found new life, new hope and new purpose since leaving Mirkwood. He had found himself. He wondered how much it had to do with Strider and the Rangers, and how much it had to do with the curious creature who was staring defiantly at him, with an empathy in her eyes that he realized was borne from her own tragic beginning. The true nature of her own father, unknown.
"And how about you Wren; what do you fear the most? Clearly it is not orcs?"
A half laugh escaped her. "I sometimes find myself longing for orcs, just to break up the monotony of village life."
He smiled in agreement; he could understand that. Village life had certainly been an adjustment for the elf prince after a lifetime in the palace of the Woodland Realm.
Then she looked at him more seriously, the twinkle fading.
"I fear never being more than two days travel away from the village. I fear never seeing Lorien, Minas Tirith or the Greenwood." She sighed, "I fear that I have given my heart to someone who is unable to hold it. I fear perhaps that I may spend the rest of my life married to a man, whom I can only love half as much."
Legolas breathed in, realizing that their fears were borne of the same spirit. The spirit that yearned for freedom and for love, but fought against their sense of duty. Although Tauriel had largely passed from his daily consciousness, the thought of perhaps loving someone else again who could not love him fully, felt almost too much to bear.
"I do not believe that this will be your fate," he said with conviction.
A smile appeared round her lips and the twinkle reappeared as she looked into his blue eyes. Legolas noticed the flecks of gold in her eyes that he had seen earlier in the day, and was surprised that he had not seen them before.
It was the closest they had ever come to speaking again about their unspoken love for another. Perhaps because both of them did not realize that it was because this particular love was slowing fading, possibly because another was borne in its place.
He sat near her, with their backs against the mountainside as they looked into the night sky. At some point she fell asleep, and her small, warm frame gradually melted against his. The elf prince however did not sleep, and found himself staring up into the starlit sky, long into the night.
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Two different paths gently colliding... are you intrigued or underwhelmed...
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