Sword and Arrow

Chapter 72

Legolas sat on the front porch of the King's House, an open book idly held in his hand. To be honest, he was watching the crowds more than he was actually reading, but he couldn't help it. He was bored, and all the books he could find were old, dusty books on politics and Gondor's history. All things he had learned when he was an elfling.

Gongs began to sound above him. He glanced in the direction of the sound, only counting them because they gave him something to do. The first pattern was simple enough: Entering the city. Whatever was next would let him know if it was a battalion of soldiers; enemies; or yet another one of those stuffy lords come to cheat Aragorn out of his money.

The next pattern was one that Legolas had heard too often. One of rank. He sighed and looked back at the book, the words swimming before his eyes. He had thought that Quenya literature was dry, but the ancient Noldorin writers and historians had obviously never met a Gondorian.

But the bells keep ringing. Legolas looked back up, squinting at nothing in particular. He wasn't the most familiar with the bell patterns - he only knew the most rudimentary because Beruthiel had made him memorize them. The bells had their own language that the soldiers were fluent in, and virtually anything could be communicated through them. But the next pattern was one that Legolas knew to his heart, because it was the same one that they used back home in Mirkwood.

Majesty.

Legolas shot to his feet. It was extremely unlikely, but what other kings remained in Middle-earth? It could be King Dain, and then he could get news on what was happening in Mirkwood. Or it could be his father. He hoped it was.

Legolas took a few quick paces to stand at the top of the stairs, trying to hear over the clamor. If anyone of rank had entered the city, heralds would announce them in the First square. He should be able to hear from up here - he didn't have those pointy ears for nothing.

And he could hear, albeit faintly - "Behold, behold all ye, the elvenking-"

Legolas didn't need to hear more than that. He dropped his book and shot out of the porch like an arrow from a bow, weaving through the crowd with the occasional "sorry!" and "excuse me!". His quick feet carried him down to the third tier of the city, where he stopped only briefly to purchase a bouquet of lavender roses. Then he was off again, a hand held in front of his flowers to shield them from the wind.

Those were strange days, and nobody batted an eye at an elf racing down the levels of the city. Most of them simply wondered how he had not tripped down the stairs yet (he had).

When Legolas finally made it down to the main square, he was rather out of breath, but he was in time. A small procession was arriving into the city - white horses, green banners, and flowing cloaks. At their head rode King Thranduil on a massive elk. An elfling rode on the elk's horns.

Legolas, of course, ignored his father and went straight past him. He stopped beside the two riders behind Thranduil and bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Then he stood up, presented the bouquet to his wife with a grin. "You've finally decided to come visit me, oh love of mine," he said quite dramatically. "You do not understand how bland and arduous my journey has been without your lovely company."

Eirinel beamed down at him, not quite taking the flowers from him. "Indeed, I missed your constant chatter so much that I rode all the way down here to hear it again."

"Of course you did," Legolas laughed. He tucked the bouquet under one elbow and reached a hand up to help her down. "I told you that you'd miss it someday."

Eirinel swallowed a heavy lump in her throat and looked at him with almost watery eyes. "I missed it every day."

Legolas looked away for a moment so she would not see his bittersweet smile. But then he offered her his arm again, and she took it as she dismounted. Legolas swept her off her feet in a twirl, spinning around a few times before he put her back on the ground, both of them laughing. "For you," he said, giving her the flowers.