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

Chapter 19: Preparation

It was biting cold, in spite of the radiant sun that bathed the forest in a myriad of golden hues that sparkled inside the green irises, and Legolas smiled for the beauty of it. Yet his smile was no longer that of an innocent young lad, fresh out of a remote Silvan village, wonderstruck at the sights and sounds of the city outskirts. It was the smile of one who was wiser, more experienced, less naive.

The months he had been away, towards the West and ultimately to the South and the dreaded Mirkwood, had been joyous and yet shocking; satisfying yet melancholic, frightening and so very heart-felt; so many emotions, so much to think on, to understand.

He had killed, orcs and spiders, had, albeit barely, begun to understand his sensitivity to the trees and he had observed and catalogued Lainion and Turion's leadership skills; and, of course, had learned to braid his hair in pure Avarin fashion.

He had also discovered his ability to traverse the Mirkwood without suffering the dire effects that had been described to him. He did feel it, he had told his tutors, but it was as if it were being filtered, shielded him from the toxin that seemed to reach him only in a watered-down form. He spared a quick glance at the surrounding trees, wondering not for the first time, if they were responsible for it.

Turion had told him it would make him a popular choice with the lieutenants and that was an unexpected boon, because if there was one place Legolas wanted to be, it was there, where the battle was being lost, and where he was most needed.

What now? he wondered. Would they promote him after so little time in the field? Or would there be another mission before him as a novice? He had not wanted to ask, but the question grated on him. If he was to set out once more on another training stint, would he still be with Lainion and Turion? The thought of serving on his own, without their guidance, surprised him because he realised that he was still dependent on others, one aspect of his childhood he had not managed to rid himself of. Perhaps it would be a good thing then, to be separated from them, to fend for himself, put himself to the test, in spite of his own wishes.

The dense forest was becoming lighter, and with the light, came more elves. Foresters, farmers and children walked here and there, even waved at the warriors as they trekked their way home. Legolas resisted the urge to wave back, for it was not allowed, but he did smile to those that passed him by, for there was respect and thanks in their eyes and it humbled him.

"My Lord! Welcome home!" he heard an elf shout. Wondering who they hailed, he twisted his head, only to find an elf looking straight at him, his hand over his heart.

Legolas stared for a moment, before looking behind him, in search of the Lord, but there was no one there, only Faunion, who wore a puzzled expression on his face.

Legolas pulled a face and shrugged his shoulders, and then turned his face to the fore once more. Perhaps the elf thought Turion a Lord, rather than a captain, not that there were many captains from the nobility, of course, for Legolas could name them all, knew their houses and names, their flags and colours, he knew all there was to know about them.

And so he returned to his thoughts as his eyes took in the new sights and sounds. They were close to the city now, closer than he had ever been, and the familiar surge of excitement grabbed him and he smiled. Still young enough to enjoy life! he exclaimed to himself, and for a while longer, Legolas was a lad once more.

At the fore, Lainion and Turion shared a worried glance. There was no doubt in their minds about what had just happened. They were not even at court yet, and someone had already mistaken Legolas for a member of the royal family.