Starting Anew

At the Crossbeam

OoOoO

For the love of Eru, Legolas could not begin to describe why he was so anxious. It was not as if he were facing his father, about to confess to having loosed spiders in the wine cellars. Being a prince was no crime, but for some reason he felt as though it were at this moment. Maybe it was more the fact that he had purposefully kept the fact concealed from Strider. Legolas had never had compunctions about letting mortals only know what information suited his purposes. This was different. Strider was not only his host, but rapidly approaching something close to what Legolas would call a friend.

Strider for his part did not as much as pause. Gesturing to a seat by the hearth, he waited for Legolas to sit before doing so himself. "Of course, Legolas. What is it?" Seeming to sense that a confession of some gravity was about to be forthcoming, the man spoke no more, allowing the elf to gather his thoughts.

Sitting stock still and ramrod straight, Legolas felt himself slipping into the formal tone he presented whenever faced with an uncomfortable situation. While Thranduil tended to use an icy, dangerous smile as a warning to offending parties that he disliked the present interaction, his son became perfectly expressionless. One of the royal guards, Tanwë, had once remarked that if the prince should ever be under interrogation, those doing the asking would have better luck getting information out of a rock.

This was not an interrogation though. With a deep breath that rose and felled his shoulders markedly, Legolas began.

"There is something about myself that I had not yet shared with you. You have been generous to me, since my arrival, and I can no longer in good conscience keep you ignorant of it." Strider's remained silent, bidding the elf continue without need of words. "I admit that I have been enjoying some degree of anonymity, here among your folk. It helps to calm the mind, and has in some measure freed me from that which I came here seeking to leave behind."

"And that is?" Strider spoke in a low tone, his grey-blue eyes watching Legolas.

"Myself."

For some reason, the answer got to the present moment ahead of its speaker. It was true though. Insomuch as Legolas had told himself that he needed time away from grief, Tauriel's fresh and Thranduil's hundreds of years old, it was actually his own identity that he had been hoping to forget. He had seen himself hardening like clay in a mold into Thranduil's image, and in light of that now understood why Tauriel had been unable to return his feelings. Legolas couldn't imagine his spirit was very appealing, constrained as it was by the lingering loss of his mother which Thranduil could never properly put to rest. Her death had hardened the king, embittered his heart, and in the process began to do the same to his son. Legolas liked to hope he was not near as imprisoned behind his own eyes as his father was. Nonetheless, that day on RavenHill his heart had told him that he must either flee now, or be forever unable to grow and heal. He only could pray to the Valar that Thranduil would find his own path to change...and renewal.

Continuing, Legolas felt his mask of self-defense crack; just the slightest of hairline fractures about the edges. It was a start though.

"I told you that my name is Legolas of the Woodland Realm, and in that I spoke the truth, but only part of it. Properly, I am called Legolas son of Thranduil, who presides as lord and king of that realm." Spreading his hands in a gesture of appeasement and helplessness, Legolas met Strider's gaze. "I have forgiveness to ask; it was not my intention that I should be keeping information from you as chieftain of this village."

Strider sat in thought for a long moment, watching Legolas with an unreadable expression as he stroked his index and thumb along the stubble of his chin. Standing, he went to the hearth...and tossed another log onto the fire.