Building Ithilien [Legolas] LOTR

Here, At the End of All Things

One Year Later

Ithilien glimmered on the edge of the grassy plains before him, a verdant jewel, darkly green. Riding back from his most recent trip to Minas Tirith, Legolas paused for a moment just to look at the woods, as Arod waited ever so patiently, stoically clipping the tall grass with his teeth. Ithilien...long had Legolas and his small band of elves worked to set nature right again, after so many years of Sauron's subversion. They had brought peace and song, comfort and understanding, to the woods once more, and under the elves' careful guidance, the trees began to listen again, and the stars seemed to shine all the brighter for it.

Some time, over the course of the last year, Ithilien had become home. His home.

Legolas urged Arod on across the last reaches of the plains of Gondor and then finally through the shadowed paths of the woods. He easily marked the hidden presence of all his trained guard whom surely delighted in the return of their esteemed Lord. For if anything at all, Legolas was dearly loved by his people.

From that fateful day when Adrendil had fallen on the walls of Minas Tirith and Legolas had faced the censure of his people at Aragorn's banquet that very night, only to behold them pledging their loyalty and servitude, he had become in their minds not only their leader, but also their champion—one they could depend upon to defend them, even at great cost to himself—for had he not already done that very thing? He had paid in his own blood to secure their safety on the battlefield, then again on the walls of the White City—Legolas, young though he was by elven standards, had earned his people's deep trust and secured their fealty.

But at that exact moment, Legolas was not feeling much like the beloved leader of an elven realm; it was more likely that he felt rather hassled and quite put out. He pulled up short at the stables and quickly passed Arod off to one of the young stable boys who had come from Minas Tirith. He then stalked off to the north in the direction of the most central talan where he met with his advisors, courtiers from the king, and the like. Legolas had his own private study there, where he could think and reflect, or really just be alone if he needed solitude.

At that moment, Legolas really needed solitude. The comfortable, cushioned chair behind his desk sprang to mind. Yes, that was the very thing!

He swung open the double doors, perhaps a little harder than necessary—only to find Sulindal poring over plans at his desk...in his chair. His chief advisor looked up with a knowing smile.

"Ah, Legolas, welcome back. Should I begin the draft for the congratulatory letter to your sister on her betrothal?"

"You knew?" Legolas almost shrieked.

Sulindal bit back another smile and opted for the serious-concerned look. "Well, your lady and I suspected as much."

Legolas shook his golden head. "Conspiring against me, I see. Is nothing sacred?" The prince unceremoniously dropped his pack on an end table, clattering half the piled up trinkets to the floor.