Whispers of the Forest (Legolas x Male OC)

The Contract

Rain fell, wetting the mountain path and causing the rocks to become slick. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, accompanying a previous flash. A soaked figure trudged along in the downpour, sure-footed and hidden by a dark black cloak. Twin swords hung at his side; a longbow strapped to his back with a full quiver of elvish arrows. A satchel, packed lightly, hung across his chest. It carried some bandages and medicine, a change of clothes, rope and a single precious piece of paper marked with the King of Mirkwood's wax symbol—a contract of employment. The rain thinned as the elf left the Misty Mountains, the air fresh, and only a drizzle remained. His cloak was soaked through, and his clothes underneath weren't in much better condition. Rivendell was growing close; he could feel it as the forest around him grew familiar with soft whispers of welcome, and his feet began pulling him forward, a newfound excitement guiding his steps. He had been called to Rivendell by Lord Elrond, a very dear friend and the closest thing he had to a father. The road home was far, and he could only hope he made it before the others Elrond had invited to the council. The roar of waterfalls was soon heard, and the entrance to Rivendell came into view. The elf couldn't help the bright smile tugging his lips upwards as he walked up the steps of his childhood home. Orange light from the setting sun cast Rivendell in a beautiful, familiar glow. A glow he didn't realize how much he missed until now.

"Sîrion! You came faster than I anticipated!" Lord Elrond approached him, a broad smile spread across his face.

Sîrion pulled off his hood and returned the smile easily. "I feared I would miss the meeting if I did not make haste, my Lord."

"Yes, well, you are one of the first to arrive. Tell me, where have your travels taken you before this?" They began to slowly walk toward the entrance of the main Hall.

"Most recently, Mirkwood, my Lord. King Thranduil has a task for me, one I hope will not cause me too much trouble." The contract seemed to weigh heavier in his bag.

Elrond raised an eyebrow, "And what could the King of Mirkwood want from you?"

"A promise of protection for his son. The King believes his son could be in danger, of what I do not know. I assume it must be something with the evil that has made itself known as of late," The pair stopped in front of a broad green and silver door, "Please do not speak of this to anyone; the prince cannot know. From what I have heard, he would not appreciate this development," Sîrion sighed softly, "He did leave Mirkwood after all... I doubt he'd want to find out his father is still trying to meddle with his life."

"I understand. No words shall be spoken of this to him or any others."

Sîrion nodded his thanks and gave a small bow to indicate his leave. The Elven Lord returned the bow, walking away as the cloaked elf opened the green door. The room had a white bed in the centre, a dresser beside it and a door out to a balcony where the forest and falls could be seen in perfect view. Sîrion took off his cloak and hung it on a hook to dry near the door before taking off his weapons and peeling away his wet clothes. He rummaged through his dresser, as this room has been deemed his for the past couple thousand years. He slipped on soft night clothes, even though it was early evening, and crawled into the warm, welcoming bed.

Sîrion woke the next morning with the sun seeping through the windows. He stretched and quickly changed into a simple green tunic. He brushed through his shoulder-length hair and braided the top half back away from his face. He had a couple of hidden knives on his person—one in his right boot, another on his left thigh and the last up his right arm. Even in Rivendell, he couldn't kick the habit of having them on. He left his room, quickly deciding a walk in the garden was in order. The trees rustled around him, fuelling an excited bubble to spread through his chest. He laid back on the grass, closed his eyes and began to listen. Nothing but whispers were heard at first, but soon, the voices grew around the elf. Talk of the sun and rain started from the trees. They told a tale of four small beings wandering around a day or so ago, one bringing an evil trinket around with him. The name 'Frodo' and 'Baggins' was whispered cautiously amongst the trees, warning Sîrion of the vile ring the halfling carried. His eyebrows furrowed as they began to whisper of someone approaching. Sîrion opened his eyes and sat up, looking around for the person. A final whisper of 'the evil is coming!' was heard before the trees fell unnaturally silent. A small fellow walked towards Sîrion, hand in his pockets and staring in awe at the garden around him. His eyes were a bright blue, with shaggy dark brown hair framing his face. He stopped when he noticed the elf.