Glorfindiel: Magic of Imladris

Awakening {Legolas PoV}

I moan, my senses slowly reviving to a sore aches and sharp pains, the sensations of which poignantly remind me of what happened before the world folded itself into a dark abyss. I expect to be in the Orc camp when I open my eyes, but find myself instead laying upon a cushy bed, swathed in creamy sheets and blankets of ivory, in an open aired healing chamber. The neutral color scheme and elegant yet simple architecture helps me discern that I am in Imladris, the last homely house east of the sea. I've not been here before but my father has, and his descriptions were lacking in emphasis  of its peaceful beauty. "Why, Prince Legolas, you are awake at last." I flick my eyes towards the doorway where I see Lord Elrond Peredhel standing with dressings and medicinal herbs. True to the tales, he looks neither old nor young but emanates the wisdom and experience of millennia of life. 

"You are Lord Elrond." 

"Yes, I am. You, Legolas, are fortunate to have been found by my sons Elladan and Elrohir when they were going through Eriador. You were being held prisoner by the pack of orcs and goblins when they found the encampment." Elrond answers calmly, entering and approaching the bed. I risk a glance at myself and go cold when I see the many wraps and bandages around me. "It would seem the Orcs knew your identity." 

"Yes, they recognized me from the Battle of the Five Armies and believed that they could be handsomely rewarded for capturing the Elf prince of Greenwood or hold me for ransom, not that they would get much for me." I muse, recalling the encounter as Elrond examines me. 

"What were you doing so far west of Greenwood, Prince Legolas?" 

"I have been searching for one son of Arathorn son of Arador. He goes by Strider. Since I cannot return to Greenwood, Adar-nin said that I should look for him though I am not sure why." Elrond straightens, his stern blue eyes narrowing as he draws a breath. "Do you know of this "Strider", Lord Elrond?"

"Strider is actually Aragorn, but for his safety we call him Estel. He is my foster son." 

"Then I was searching too far west." I hiss, upset. "May I see Estel?" 

"He is currently in Lothlorien with my daughter Arwen." 

"I see." 

"Well, my lord Legolas, it appears you have fast recovered since you arrived here one week hence. The length of your slumber tells me that you were quite exhausted before you were so wounded, however, you are not ready to get back on your feet. There are two injuries that still needs treatment and care. You were impaled by a scimitar in your abdomen, though not very deep, it is quite serious." He determines, "You were also cut on your right thigh and calve. Those wounds were made by morgul weapons and will not so easily heal even though you are an elf." 

"I understand, Lord Elrond." 

"Very well. You are able to get up and move, but do not exert yourself too much today. Slow walking is best." 

"Thank you, Lord Elrond." He nods and quickly reapplies herbs and changes the dressings, removing the ones I no longer require, and then exits. I sigh, grimacing as I slowly sit up and get out of bed. I move to where a set of light green cotton robes, gray trousers and light colored shoes lay waiting beside an already drawn bath. 

After a short bath and changing into the new robes, I redo my hair and then set out to explore Imladris. The singing of the resident elves adds to the serenity of the isolated elvish realm, and I attune myself to it as I walk through the small forest and skirt the cascading falls. Other elves politely bow or nod in my direction, but no words are uttered. 

As I am walking I hear the crisp clip-clopping of elvish horses and look towards the courtyard to see a pair of riders draped in shimmering gold cloaks, one riding a pure white gelding, the other astride a blood bay mare. I stop, curious of the riders' identities. One dismounts and removes their hood, revealing Lord Glorfindel. I gaze at him for a moment. He once visited Greenwood when I was an elfling, and I remember that he and my father had a terrible sundering following the failed conclusion of aggressive negotiations. Glorfindel is one of the most powerful ellyn of Arda and was one of my favorite childhood heroes to learn about. He is one of the few Noldor to have blonde hair without being a Vanya and is one of the Firstborn, but is widely famous for his glorious, radiant long locks of golden sun, which is one way I can so easily recognize him from afar. 

The other rider leaps from the mare's back onto the ground, whipping off their hood. My eyes lock onto the elleth beneath the cape. She is very fair and pale, and her long curls are of richest, glossiest gold. She is considerably short for an elf, though, standing five foot six and coming only to Glorfindel's lower shoulders. He is six foot ten, abnormally tall for an elf. I almost chuckle at the difference in stature, but I am focused more on the elleth. She is likely related to him, but I cannot be sure. I watch as she and Glorfindel lead their mounts to the paddocks, mesmerized, and abandon my previous route to one of the pools, choosing to join in the feast planned for tonight. 

*Peredhel=half-elven

*Estel=hope

*Edhil= (plural) elves

*Ellyn= (plural) male elves

*Arda= world

*Elleth= she-elf

Hope that you enjoyed this chapter! Please comment and let me know what you think! 

-Uilosris