Within Dreams [A Legolas love story]

Further Developments

The soft melody of voices dove in and out of my waking dreams. I never expected that anything like that could be so peaceful, but it was.

Apparently, Gilron and Faeldring were extremely gifted singers, and as soon as our small party had begun to relax around our fire, they had begun a smooth, quiet song which curled around the flames like a warm wind.

After riding all day, we were just past sight of the lands of Rhovanion, which was were Greenwood the Great was located.

The stars had been shining in the sky for a few hours. I reflected on the fact that this was the longest I had spent in Middle-earth, probably some kind of divine side effect of being blessed by Lórien.

But there was another thing. Although Faewyn and I had conversed almost the entire time, galloping side by side, I couldn't help feeling like Legolas was trying not to speak to me.

Occasionally, I felt him glancing at me keenly, but he had hardly said anything he entire time. Looking at him now, through the darkened twilight, I could see him standing a few feet past the camp. His tall figure was outlined by the dim moonlight, his pale blond hair shining like mithril in the darkness.

I shivered and turned on my side, covering myself with my cloak and listening to the lilting tones of the two elves.

**********

Faewyn was shaking me awake around morning, it must have been. A faint purple glow was visible in the East.

"Come on," she whispered, her dark hair blowing in the pale breeze.

I sat up, suddenly spurred on by a rush of cold wind. Something in her tone made me get up, hurriedly stuff my blanket into my saddlebags, and mount my horse.

"Something's making me uneasy too," I murmured, patting my horses neck. He was shivering and pawing the ground.

Legolas appeared over the ridge, bow in hand.

"We must continue," Legolas was saying in a low voice.

"What was it, my lord?" Maldor asked him, glancing up from packing.

"Nothing for now," Legolas replied, casting another look at the dawning horizon. "But there was a Warg carcass not four days old."

I turned away from the conversation.

Wargs....

"But they were all destroyed after the War of the Ring," I said to Faewyn.

"No, they weren't," came a low voice behind me.

Faewyn and I looked back to see Legolas.

"How?" I asked.

He looked at me directly.

"They were bred to kill, and they will never stop," he said. "Wargs now may live wild without their masters. They may be weak, but not broken. "

He thoughtfully fingered a buckle on one of the saddlebags.

"Legolas," I said.

He looked up, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"Is this related to anything I should know about?" I asked cautiously. It hadn't escaped me that Legolas was acting so tense ever since last night.

"No," he said shortly. "It doesn't."

Faewyn looked at us.

"Forgive me, Prince," Faewyn started, "What do you speak of?"

Legolas cast me a wary glance.

"My father asked me to make sure of something," he said vaguely. "It's not related to the prophecy or anything, but-"

My blood froze.

"What did you say?" I asked

Legolas looked at me, his dark blue eyes surveying me curiously.

"The scroll," he said.

My eyes widened.

I saw something change in his expression--he realized that I knew what he was talking about. The stag had mentioned a scroll and lore, none if which made sense to me at the time. He also said that there was only one document left of the records or Irmo.

It didn't have to be related, but something was connected to the forewarnings of the white stag.

"What do you speak of?" asked Faewyn, trying in vain to recapture her understanding of the conversation.

"Nothing to concern ourselves now with, I'm sure," Legolas said gently, guiding his horse, Arod, to where the guards were.

"What was that?" Asked Faewyn, lifting an eyebrow.

I sighed.

"Who even knows," I said, looking into the distance.

We followed Legolas, who apparently knew where he has going. Personally, I had never really left Rhovanion so everything was new to me.

Faewyn was delighted to be out in the wilds again, and she pointed out different things as we passed them.

"The last time I left Greenwood was when I was very young," she said

"How old were you?" I asked, slowing my horse to canter next to hers.

"Seventeen," she said with a grin.

Oh, so like, a toddler.

"Sorry I don't have a limitless lifespan," I scowled.

"If I were counting in elven years," Faewyn said, "Right now I wouldn't even be one year old."

I gaped at her.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," she smiled. "An elven year is technically 100 human years."

"Ohh," I said sarcastically.

"It is!" She insisted, swatting my sleeve. "Generally though we follow a year similar to humans. 144 days."

I laughed.

"I suppose that makes me feel less like a four year old," I conceded.

"We should go explore," she said, a mischievous gleam in her grey eyes.

"Remember when we used to go scouting?" I smirked. "We would spy on the other elves and climb the trees to "hunt orcs"."

Faewyn rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Prince Legolas," she called up to the front.

"Yes, but stay close. Take Maldor." He answered, without letting Faewyn explain.

Elves with their stupid fox ears.

I scowled at him. "Yes, Ada."

Legolas suppressed an eye roll with great difficulty and ignored my remark.

"Tolo, govano ven!" Faewyn called to Maldor. Gilron and Faeldring moved to flank Legolas, who waved and continued to head south.

Maldor and Faewyn were on either side of me as we urged our horses to a gallop. Faewyn said there were many large rocks and caves in this area, as it was considered a hilly region.

"Alae!" Maldor exclaimed, slowing his horse.

"What?" Faewyn asked interestedly.

"It is athelas," he said, cheerfully cutting it from the ground with a delicate knife.

"Are you a healer?" I asked him shyly. I hadn't talked to him before.

Maldor smiled laughingly "No, lady, but I know much of healing lore."

"Good," said Legolas tersely, riding up suddenly. His horse pawed the ground, the whites of his eyes showing in fear. 

"Wha--" I began, but a gasp from Faewyn cut me off. 

Gilron was draped over his saddle, a long, black arrow jutting sadistically out of his shoulder.