Lost Tales from Middle-earth

The Arrival of the Hobbits

Rhaweth opened her eyes. The son of Thranduil had his hand on her shoulder and looked at her in an odd way.

"Are you alright, my Lady?"

"I am. And what is your name, Prince of Greenwood?"

"Greenwood? It has been long since that name has passed the lips of another than the ones of my Adar or mine but it warms my heart to hear it said once more. I am named Legolas. It is a pleasure to meet you."

He smiled. She knew that smile. It was the same one Tranduil had had when he had been with her... But she couldn't keep loving that elf. Long ago she had ended the one good thing that ever had happened to her in her very long life. She asked Legolas knews of Greenwood, and thought at first he was surprised, he gladly complied, and of the way he spoke of it, she could see that he loved it at least as much as her. She often commented on what he told her, which made him laugh. His laugh was so similar to the rare one of Thranduil that he reserved only for her... He told her of the trees, the flowers, the spiders who multiplied every year, of the Palace and of the one thing she truly wanted to know and didn't want to know. Of his father. He told her of his coldness, of how he was broken by his mother's death, and of how he ruled, alone, but was a great King still.

She wanted to know more about the wife of Thranduil, so, although at first reluctant, he told Rhaweth about her.

"She was the best Mother I could ever have wished for. Her heart was pure and she killed not a living thing. Caladil the Silvan was the gentlest Elf you could have seen, and my Ada always loved her, more than anything, but was shattered by her death, long ago and it seems like he has not felt since. He never speaks of her."

A tear escaped her eyes. Once again, he lightly touched her shoulder to apologize, but when she looked into his eyes, he was speechless. The two gems glistened in the sun, were bright as the Sun, which made it difficult to maintain eye contact, and looked young and yet timeless. For a few minutes they did not move, his hand resting upon her shoulder and their eyes interlocked.

Suddenly Rhaweth saw something, beyond Legolas, and rose, her cheeks slightly reddening. She had seen four Hobbits who were unsurely walking in the palace grounds.

She went towards them, and began a conversation.

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Legolas... The son of Thranduil... He reminded her so much of his father, but a warmer and nicer version of him. And that smile. That wretched smile which had turned her insides into butterflies. Why, oh why did he have to be so similar to Thranduil? If she was reacting this way merely to the first elf that resembles him, she could not bear to imagine what actually seeing him would do to her. Hearing his dark humor that always made her laugh, feeling his soft lips upon hers, his strong arms around her waist, pulling her to his chest, the way his eyes looked at her like she was the most precious thing in Arda...

But was it only because he resembled Thranduil that she appreciated his company? He was a fresh breeze to her, making her feel happy once again. His youth and innocence also were refreshing. And the way that he had looked at her, like if she was good, like if he believed that she still could do great things...

She was brought back to the conversation when she heard the mention of a "Strider" that escorted them here.

"Are you talking of Aragorn, son of Arathorn?"

"Why? Do you know him?" Said the dark haired one who she remembered was Frodo Baggins.

"I do. Do you know where he is, master Baggins?"

"I believe he went away with Arwen. And please call me Frodo."

"Thank you... Frodo."

"The pleasure is mine."

She left. So Arwen had once again found Aragorn. All was well. For now.

A few hours later, the Council began.