The Do'Urden Brothers

Chapter 8

The memory of torture and torment lingers long after the physical pain has faded from the body. It leaves a mark on a soul that is there forever.

This was something that Legolas was understanding for the first time in his life. He remembered his father's warnings, remembered how King Thranduil was adamant that he would never set foot outside his Woodland Realm.

Legolas never knew what happened in Thranduil's earlier life that could have caused him to turn a blind eye to the suffering of the rest of the world, but through all of Legolas's life, it seemed his father was content to remain in his sanctuary, the kingdom his grandfather, Oropher, had established long ago; until Middle Earth itself passed on from memory.

But now, Legolas understood the horrors that existed in the world. He had endured his own torment, his own suffering, just as his father had so many ages ago. Perhaps if he could, he would flee all the way back to Mirkwood, barricade himself within the palace and never see the light of the stars again.

That idea pained him. Even if that was possible, Legolas couldn't see himself making that decision. He had come too far. He had come to another land, a land foreign yet not so dissimilar as Middle Earth. But it had taken him ages to arrive in this place, and home was now so very far away.

Legolas struggled to push past what he had endured. It made little sense to him. And now, he was forced to find sanctuary in a stronghold of dwarves. Dwarves! He had learned to regard them as ugly and savage, the way they chugged ale and feasted on animal meats, the way they wore their armor, how they made their homes inside of mountains instead of in forests.

Mithral Hall was not so dissimilar from another mountain kingdom Legolas had once heard of. Erebor. That once mighty kingdom full of dwarves whose greed summoned a calamity of a dragon upon themselves and the unfortunate people of Dale some 200 years ago.

Legolas was young. He wasn't alive when Erebor fell, but Thranduil was. He remembered it all too well and was quick to pass judgement upon the dwarves for their greed. Was Mithral Hall so different?

In the short time since the elf had arrived in Mithral Hall, he saw blatant similarities. He saw that Mithral Hall churned out marvelous items made of mithral, just as Erebor had been known for its treasure horde of gold and jewels. But how far did the dwarves of Mithral Hall take their greed? They may not have to worry about dragons, but now their mountain was threatened by something perhaps even more sinister. Dark Elves.

A knock on the door jolted Legolas out of his silent musings. He sat at the end of his bed in the chambers he had been given for who knows how many hours, perhaps all night, staring at a flame on a candle, letting his mind wander.

The knock came again, and Legolas turned towards it. "Come in," he said aloud, waiting as it creaked open and Drizzt came in.

Legolas regarded the dark elf as he stepped into his chambers. "King Breunor is hosting a conference," the drow explained. "There are a few preparations that need to be made before we begin our journey south."

Legolas nodded. "I know little of this land, I don't know what I can contribute to aid in the dwarves' cause," he voiced his concerns to his friend.

"How dissimilar are our worlds?" Drizzt asked, and Legolas could only shrug. As far as he knew, there were no dark elves hiding in the bowels of Middle Earth. But for all he knew, perhaps there were. He had only seen a small fraction of his own world, after all.

Middle Earth had orcs, goblins, dragons, even elves and dwarves. And Faerun had all these beings as well, perhaps with different histories, different places they called home, but so similar, so familiar.