The Silvan (Lord of the Rings-Legolas)[Wattys2016]

Chapter 18: Baptism of Fire

Narosén roared in laughter, deep and strangely addictive, but Legolas could not see the humour at all, and so he sat before the shaking Spirit Herder, an indignant frown upon his brow as he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Forgive me, young Legolas. I do understand your worry, do not misjudge me, but nay - you are not losing your mind, child!"

"But how can you know that? I cannot even identify my own words when I speak them to myself, cannot even understand if those thoughts are mine or those of some other.... entity...." he said, waving his hand as if he had just commented on the fine weather. "'tis as though I were possessed!"

"Nay, stop, Legolas," he begged, fighting another wave of hysterics as he leaned forward to touch him lightly upon the knee. "I do not claim to have this gift but I know of another who does, and I know what she says. It would do you good to meet Agarel."

"Agarel?"

"Aye, a forester, the best we have. She lives half a day's trek to the East. Perhaps your captain would allow you the time to visit her. She would put your mind at ease, I am sure of it."

"I have already missed yesterday's patrol, I am loathe to take any more time for myself, but the idea is a tempting one."

"Captain Turion seems fond of you," said Narosén as he watched the boy closely.

"And I of him. He has been good to me. In truth both he and Lieutenant Lainion have been the best tutors I could ever have wished for."

And it was true, albeit it was the first time Legolas had said as much to anyone.

"It is not a frequent thing, I believe, to have two commanding officers that take your training and welfare so to heart - they see something in you," said the Spirit Herder, too casually perhaps, indeed Legolas afforded him a sideways glance before speaking.

"And I do not wish to disappoint them, Narosén. I just want to understand this. If I am to have it for the rest of my life, I need to understand it, control it," he said with a sour scowl.

"True. But for now, your patrol will not be back until dusk. Join us for lunch, our people are eager to meet you."

"Narosén, I am not a hero. I do not want this attention. However much I understand their hearts, I do not understand their minds. I saved those children because I could. Any other member of my patrol could have done the same. If there is fame to be had, let it be for the Western Patrol, not for me alone."

Legolas had said it almost as a plea, and Narosén had sensed no irritation in his tone, only incomprehension. He still did not understand, realised the Spirit Herder, and perhaps that was just as well. There would be time enough, he reminded himself.

"Nevertheless, join us. Indulge them?" asked the Silvan with a paternal smile, which was soon reflected on Legolas' face.

"Alright. The Valar forbid I refuse Silvan hospitality, Amareth's wrath would be memorable!" he exclaimed, the face of his aunt coming to his mind's eye.

"Amareth? You mother?" asked Narosén.

"Nay, my aunt. I lost my mother when I was just a babe."

Narosén's shrewd eyes held the striking green irises for long moments before he sat back and lowered his head.

"That name is familiar to me, but I cannot remember why. Perhaps I know her..." he trailed off.

"I doubt it. She has not left her village for all the years of my life, or so I believe. She never seemed interested in journeying abroad."