Unspoken ( A Legolas Love Story )

2.20: The Silvan

"What was her name?"

Legolas turned to his wife, surprise registering sharply in his eyes. It was the day that followed their arrival into The Greenwood. The couple were walking slowly together through the forest leading the horses, their children were taking a moment to stretch their legs and chase squirrels.

"In all the time I have known you elf-lord, you have never told me her name." Wren clarified with a raised eyebrow, as she took a bite of an apple.

Legolas paused before responding. "Tauriel." He said slowly. "Tauriel was her name."

He was surprised at the emotion he felt saying her name out loud for the first time in nearly three years, there was no lingering regret or remorse, almost a sensation of saying good-bye.

"It's a beautiful name... Will she be there?"

Legolas looked into his wife's big, brown eyes and realized that this particular issue must have been weighing on her mind for some time. He tried to reassure her.

"In all likelihood, she sailed for the undying lands after the battle at Ravenhill."

"Oh." Wren almost seemed disappointed. "I should have liked to meet her..."

"You know you have my whole heart, meleth e-guilen."

"I know." She said simply with a smile, her twinkle reappearing. Wren took another bite of her apple. "Do you think your father will regret his invitation?"

Legolas in all honesty could not be sure, after all his father was largely renowned for his unpredictable nature.

"Well I guess we will soon find out, it is almost a year since he wrote to us bidding us to come."

"I am not overly fond of being 'bid' to do anything."

"I am acutely aware of that!" Legolas grinned, as he ducked a half-chewed apple core. He continued, his eyes sparkling, "I think once we get past some of peripherals, you and my Father should get on well, he has a soft spot for feisty females!"

"By peripherals – you mean inconsequential things, like say, my mortal blood." His wife was unable to hide the edge of bitterness in her voice.

"Aletheîa, all I know is that my father was at least willing look beyond his original grievance, or we would not be here." Her anxiety about their reunion was growing, Legolas could tell.

Their conversation was cut short by the children's discovery of a very large caterpillar.

Later as they rode, the children once again on their laps, Legolas mulled over his wife's words as well as the condition of the western gate as they walked the forest road. The western borders of the forest were well beyond the tightly controlled range that Thranduil had so long imposed upon his people. But if not elves, then who could have come and restored the place?

The further into the Greenwood Legolas traveled, the more he began to wonder if perhaps it was not so impossible after all that his people could have been here. The entire forest had a different feel to it, an air that was both new and old to Legolas. The Greenwood had not felt this alive for so many years that Legolas almost couldn't recall. They had heard news that Sauron had been driven out of his lair in Dol Goldur at about the same point in time as the Battle of Five Armies. With the evil of Sauron gone, the entire forest seemed to have come back to life. It was still a wild place, with many twists, turns and wandering paths to beguile and mislead the unwary traveler. However Legolas knew this forest better than anyone and they made excellent time along the road.

With less than a league between them and the gates of the palace, Legolas stopped and they camped beneath the eves of an enormous oak tree, as the children were exhausted with the day's travel. Wren fell asleep by his side, their son on her lap and their daughter laid under Legolas's arm. Sitting with his back to the trunk of the oak he reached beneath his tunic and drew out his mother's ring. The silver band with its stone as white as starlight shone in the dusky air. Legolas seen the twin of this ring, always upon Thranduil's own hand. Never had either of his parents ever been without their ring. Briefly Legolas wondered if perhaps he ought to have buried it with the queen, so that it might be with her still.