Between the wreaths of smoke across the bar and the flickering candelabras, the elven prince could scarcely discern the dim outline of the man who had not only stopped the fight between him and the dwarves, but also possessed the boldness to call upon him as the son of Thranduil.
"Who are you, and how did you know my name?" Legolas inquired softly.
The old traveler glanced up from his pipe and furrowed a pair of bushy eyebrows at the prince. " I rendered aid to your father after the fall of Doriath and have been a regular enough visitor to his halls for his only son to recognize me I should think, or my name is not Gandalf."
Mithrandir," Legolas exclaimed. "I hardly recognized you!"
"That much is obvious, Legolas, and since when have the courts of King Thranduil become so ungallant that the prince neglects to introduce his lady?" Gandalf challenged.
Legolas' cheeks colored a rosy hue, and he bade Thaliniel to take a seat next to the old wizard as he explained, "Gandalf, this is Thaliniel. She and I are together." He caught himself and clarified, "Not 'together.'" He stumbled over his words, "I mean we're traveling together-"
Thaliniel rescued him, secretly loving the violent hue now staining the prince's cheeks. "Legolas volunteered to help me find my younger sister," she explained. "We believe she stowed away in a wagon belonging to some elves from Rivendell."
"Ah, which brings us to the crux of the matter," Gandalf surmised, steepling his fingers together. He had very much enjoyed the interplay between the two young elves, and Legolas was undoubtedly smitten with this elleth. He smiled to himself and wondered if Thranduil knew.
"I just happen to know where the elves you seek are bound," the crafty old wizard stated.
"Do you know for sure?" asked Thaliniel anxiously. They already had to be so far behind the Rivendell elves.
"Of course," assured Gandalf, his eyes taking on a knowing gleam, "for I am the one who told Lord Elrond that the task must be done."
"What are they after precisely?"sked Legolas.
"I dare not speak of it out loud," Gandalf began, "but I have warned the White Council of a growing threat deep in the Grey Mountains. Whispers of death and blood on the northern roads have reached my ears."
Both Thaliniel and Legolas shared a worried glance.
"Lord Elrond agreed that if my suspicions were correct than we must not allow this threat to fester. He dispatched some of his best warriors to travel there, gather intelligence, and act if necessary."
Gandalf cleared his throat and signaled for another drink before leaning toward the prince, his voice a whisper. "Take the upper River Road leaving Dale. I am certain you can reach them before they reach Luin's Landing. The storm washed out the bridge, which would surely delay their crossing. You should spend the night in Dale and strike out tomorrow-of course, do not stay here. The Lusty Lion is no place for well-bred ladies, young prince." He wagged a finger at Legolas.
"By the way, what are YOU doing here?" Legolas asked mischievously and laughed.
"Ah," Gandalf answered vaguely, "I had a hunch that I would run into someone interesting tonight, and here you are, my dear lad." Only Gandalf could get away with addressing an elven prince 'lad'. "Come to think of it, I booked a room at a lovely establishment two blocks away, The Raven Inn, but now that I've met you so conveniently, I find that I no longer have need of it." He tossed the room key to Legolas, who caught it between his fingers. "Oh, and it would probably be best if you two shared it, since you are 'together'. He winked at Legolas. "A single lady should not be left alone, unguarded," he added with a stern look at the prince.
Thaliniel found herself unable to make eye contact with Legolas, and the prince's ears turned a charming shade of scarlet.
Two blocks later, the couple found themselves in already a much nicer, cleaner inn. Legolas signed the pair of them into the visitor log as a married couple under his former alias, Locien. The room was sparsely furnished, but comfortable and clean, with a well-swept hearth, neat rug, and finely stuffed four poster bed.
Legolas, noticing Thaliniel's discomfort, took the lead and settled onto the rug before the hearth, dropping his bag with an exaggerated sigh. She took her place beside him, stretching out a pair of long lean legs as the prince took it upon himself to light the fire.
Once lit, Legolas turned and studied her, concerned about the red mark on her face from where she had been struck in the bar fight. "I'm sure the swelling will go down tonight," he assured Thaliniel, and gently grazed his thumb along the offending streak.
She nodded gratefully and chuckled. "It certainly could have turned out much worse for the both of us, had your friend Gandalf not stepped in when he did!" She tried very much not to dwell on the rush of feelings accompanying the prince's gentle touch just now, or admire the way his hair and eyes both gleamed in the firelight.
"Look, Thaliniel. You should rest," he said, gesturing to the bed.
She stifled a snort. "I most certainly am not sleeping in the bed, while the crown prince of Mirkwood sleeps on a rug!" Sure, the bed looked extremely welcoming, but he was the prince for crying out loud!
"It would be most unchivalrous of me to allow otherwise, my lady," Legolas protested. "I insist."
Now, the notion of sharing the bed was not brought up nor mentioned at any time, but Legolas certainly thought of it. What red-blooded young male wouldn't, especially when paired with such a desirable young woman? From the moment he had entered the room, that large bed loomed like an unspoken oliphant in his mind. He briefly entertained the thought of pulling her into his arms between the cool, crisp sheets with her soft, dark hair fanned out across the pillow...
Legolas felt his ears heat up and then instantly chastised himself for thinking of such a thing in the first place. Most importantly, he had taken on the role as her protector, acting for all intents and purposes as her guardian for the time being. Her innocence was his to protect. Beyond that, Legolas admitted to himself that his art of seduction only ever figured prominently in his own imagination. Mostly he never had much opportunity for practice in his father's palace; half of the ladies there frankly scared him, and the other half were more than willing volunteers.
He wisely decided to drop the topic of sleeping arrangements for the moment, and turned the conversation to something that had been on his mind for some time now.
Legolas pulled the folded piece of parchment from the bottom of his bag. "I have a confession to make," he began.
Thaliniel favored him with an incredulous look. "Another confession? Wait-you are not Legolas, but really the king himself?"
The prince actually rolled his eyes. "No," he said with a quick grin at her. "There was another reason I left my father's halls-beyond just being fed up with court life."
"What happened?" she asked, genuinely wanting to understand him, curious now about the piece of paper he held between his fingers.
"I found this," he explained, gesturing to the parchment, "right in the middle of the annual reports from the vineyards." He looked at her curiously, his eyes deepening as he began to read:
"Wanderlust. I feel it keenly in the air I breathe, in the sound of the water rushing by the fields, deep in my bones when I rise in the morning."
Thaliniel's eyes widened in surprise, but she did not stop him, so lost she was in the timbre of his voice, reading words that she had written, the very desires of her heart.
"Oh, to be an ellon to join the forest guard, traveling to the ends of the forest, to lands far and unknown! To ride unfettered, flying, face in the wind, gusted by exhilaration, surfeited by every imagined desire unleashed.
Free."
He paused long enough to see that she had gone very pale, followed by two bright spots of color on her cheeks. "Where...how?" she gasped at last.
His eyes softened and he set the parchment in question down between them. "Thaliniel," he said quietly. "This was mixed in with the annual report from your father. Remember the missing page? Your writing was in its place-and the moment I read it, I knew I had to meet its author. I had to meet you."
Thaliniel picked up the parchment and stared blankly at the words she had written, words that apparently had brought the crown prince of Mirkwood to her doorstep. It was a little hard to digest. She could remember the night so clearly when she had put the report together and must have mixed in one of her personal pages by accident.
She abruptly stood and walked over to the small round window in their room.
"Why?" she croaked out at last, suddenly feeling very shy in his presence-like her deepest secrets had all just been exposed, which for the most part they had.
The prince picked himself up off the floor and joined her at the window, where he could see the first stars were just starting to shine in the night sky. He wanted to reach for her hand, to hold it, to hold her, but instead, he crossed his arms behind his back.
"Your words so perfectly captured the way I felt-of wanting to be free, to see the world? Like you had held a mirror to my soul," Legolas admitted, not ashamed, but desperately wanting her to understand what he saw in her.
"I guess I have a case of 'wanderlust' too," he joked.
She turned and faced him, grateful for his small attempt at humor.
"I remember the night when I wrote those lines, so vividly," she said, pulling her long braid over her shoulder. Her eyes were distant. "I had a terrible argument with my father over the future," she recalled out loud. "I had built up all these dreams of things I wanted to do, longed to see and experience." She gave a short, bitter laugh.
"And your father?" Legolas asked, commiserating.
Thaliniel pulled away from the window and met his eyes. Her words felt thick in her throat. "He wanted to arrange a marriage between me and Barathion, the son of his dearest friend."