Rated PG-13

CHAPTER 4

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Nearly twelve hours after leaving the palace, about an hour after the sun had gone down, we stopped for the night in a small clearing. Nurhoth said it was a good place to stop because it could be defended from both sides—orcs or spiders could not surprise us.

I dismounted and retrieved some apples from my packs. I fed them to my horse Dîndal, a speckled white-and-black mare I had been riding for many years. She was a sweet and even-tempered horse who had never given me any trouble. I rubbed her tired legs a bit and removed the rest of my supplies from her back. I was rewarded with a chuffle and a soft nuzzle of her head, in thanks. She turned away to join the other horses grazing deeper in the forest. They would come back when we called them, so I was not worried.

Legolas, Menellion, and Nurhoth had gone up into the trees to scout a bit whilst the rest of us set up the camp. I walked around to stretch my legs a bit, then laid out our bedrolls and some supplies. I was interrupted by an auburn-haired elf named Lalaithion.

"Princess Sorayaiel," he said, bowing slightly. "Would you like some fruit?"

A mischievous grin was present in his flawless features. This edhel was a notorious prankster, always full of warmth and laughter. No one was immune to his jokes and mischief, not even the princess of Mirkwood.

I eyed the pears in his hand warily. "What did you put inside it?" I asked, half-smiling.

A look of shock crossed his face, but his grey-green eyes held a glint of laughter. "Who me?" he asked, feigning innocence. "Would I do that to you, Ithiliel ?"

"Daughter of the Moon," he had called me. This was major brown-nosing—something had to be amiss. "Let me see it," I said, snatching the fruit out of his hands before he could react. I was remembering an incident some years before when "someone" had placed a mouse in my bedroll on a hunting trip. I am not normally afraid of rodents, at least not until I place my feet into my warm blanket to discover that a sharp-toothed, squeaking denizen has already taken up residence there. No, it would not have surprised me if he had placed worms (or something far worse) into the fruit. I broke open the pears and peered inside them.

Lalaithion laughed heartily as I found the fruit unmolested. I could not help it; I slugged him hard and laughed, despite myself. I also heard several of the others giggling behind me. "Have you done something like this to everyone?" I asked.

"Not everyone," he said, suddenly sounding quite serious. I looked up from the fruit to see him gazing over my shoulder, all mirth gone from his features. I turned around to see a dark-haired elleth sitting on a log eating, entirely apart from everyone else.

"Tell me you are not going to play a prank on Lady Fânwen," I said, dismayed.

His look of astonishment was genuine this time. "Surely not, my lady," he said. "For I quite value my life."

This statement both relieved and amused me somewhat. Lalaithion was exaggerating in thinking that Fânwen would kill him for playing a prank on her, but not by much. She was several hundred years older than I and had been a member of the Mirkwood patrol for many years. She was a stoic, serious warrior whose cold beauty and steel-grey eyes intimidated nearly everyone with whom she came into contact.

Like all elves, Lady Fânwen prided herself on her reserve, her ability to control her emotions. However, Fânwen was extreme in her beliefs that any public display of emotion was a sign of weakness. She felt that all warriors should be serious and strong, not at all emotional and certainly not funny. Thus Lalaithion irritated her to no end. She simply would not tolerate his constant laughter and playful nature, so they usually kept far away from each other. Actually, I think Lalaithion was a little frightened of her, and that was why he kept his distance.

In fact I had only known one person who had been able to penetrate Fânwen’s staunch elven reserve: her husband Menellion, who was also journeying with us. If I had not been bonded to my husband as strongly as I was, I would not have understood what had drawn the two of them together. Menellion was not an exact polar opposite of his wife but they were vastly different. He was all seriousness when it came to protecting the kingdom, but he knew how to let loose-he was given to raucous laughter and usually howled at Lalaithion’s jokes, just not in his wife’s presence. The Wood-elves of Mirkwood may have referred to me as Celebithil and Ithiliel , which both flattered and embarrassed me, but Fânwen they called Ringhiril and Khelekien . I cannot say these names were not fitting.

Despite Lalaithion’s mirth and Fânwen’s coldness, I trusted them implicitly. Captain Nurhoth knew his warriors well and had chosen only the best to accompany us on the trip. In addition to Lalaithion, Fânwen, Menellion, and himself, Nurhoth had chosen Galenparth, another blonde who was especially skilled with plants and herbs used in healing; Tasarë, a noble warrior Nurhoth had known since they were elflings trained by my father; and Gloriavas, who greatly reminded me of Arahil in that he spoke little and moved more quietly than a cat—also his coal-black eyes burned with a fierce intelligence and gentle kindness toward all elves. The prince and myself rounded out the party of ten.

Before I could respond to Lalaithion, our discussion was interrupted by the return of my husband, the captain, and Menellion. "What news from the trees?" I asked Nurhoth and Legolas, as Menellion went to find his wife and Lalaithion went to the others.

"Not good, my lady," Nurhoth answered. "They say there is an orc encampment some ten miles ahead, directly in our path."

"We also met someone quite unexpected," Legolas continued. "We saw Radagast the Brown, on his way back to Rhosgobel."

"What did he say?" I asked, my brow furrowed. Radagast the Brown was an Istar like Gandalf. His home lay in Rhosgobel, close to the southern borders of Mirkwood, but out of the way of the treacherous Dol Guldur. He had not been seen in our realm in quite some time, having been abroad for many years.

"We asked him for information concerning Mithrandir’s ‘business,’" Legolas said, lowering his voice. We had told virtually nothing to the other members of our party, considering that Lord Elrond’s message had said a "secret" council. Undoubtedly they knew something of what was going on—with their elven hearing how could they not? —but still we were cautious.

"But alas," Legolas continued. "He knew about as much as we do. He did say that he met Gandalf fairly recently and advised him to go to Isengard to see Saruman, because the grey wizard had something very important to discuss."

"That makes sense," I mused. "Some say Saruman the White is wiser even than Mithrandir. The council was probably his idea."

Legolas nodded in agreement. We talked a few more minutes until Nurhoth moved off to help the others, who had started a fire and were preparing food. My husband made his way over to where I had spread out our bedrolls. Once there, he removed the weapons from his back, as well as his cuffs and outer tunic. He stretched a bit, smiling at me.

"Are you hungry, galad-nîn ?" I asked him.

He patted his perfectly flat stomach. "I am always hungry, meleth ."

I rolled my eyes, knowing this was all too true. Having spent my formative years with three growing elf-boys I was used to their enormous appetites. If they had been human they would all have been gigantic, unable to move because of their ponderous bulk, for as much as they ate. Thank the Valar for our elvish metabolism.

I went to get him some fruit and lembas, with a small cup of tea. When I returned he was sitting on the bedroll, propped against a tree, staring out into the dark forest. A very troubled look was present on his face; his thoughts were apprehensive as well.

He turned to me and smiled slightly. "Come, sit with me." He took the tea and food from me, setting it beside him, which allowed me to sit against him. I leaned back against his chest and felt his arms encircle me, linking around my stomach. He leaned his chin against my cheek as we sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"What is troubling you?" I finally asked, for I could not see it in his mind.

"Nothing I can place a finger on," he said, sighing. "Other than the orcs ahead, we have had no trouble. I do not know what it is."

I frowned. "Perhaps some of Ada’s apprehension has rubbed off on you?"

"Perhaps," he replied, looking thoughtful. He looked back down at me and smiled. This time the smile reached his eyes, in which I could see many feelings. My husband had a way of looking at me with those eyes, as pale and blue as a spring morning, that made me feel like I was the only other being present in the whole world, as if it were only him and me and the rising moon over top of the ancient trees. When I looked into those eyes, every time I looked in them, everything in the universe ceased to exist except for the love between us, that love which had begun when we were so small and would continue until the end of time.

I smiled back at him as he said, very softly, "I am so glad you have come, my Celebithil . My heart aches when you are not in my arms—even when you are on your horse right next to mine. If I had to leave you for a long time, it would surely break."

I did not answer him out loud because in that moment I could not—my throat was too choked with tears. Sometimes the depth of emotion emanating from the heads and hearts of both of us scared me. The sheer amount of it could be overwhelming. I felt in that embrace on our first night of the trip, knew in my heart and my soul that if we were ever parted I would surely die. Our hearts and minds were one—if anything ever happened to him, my light would fade to nothing and my heart would cleave in two. I would be on the first ship West, as life on earth without him would be too unbearable to live.

I did not, of course, have to say any of this to him because he already knew. He knew because he could see into the depths of my soul, as I could see into his. Such is the beauty of the love between those of the First-born; it knows no equal.

We sat that way for a few moments, our arms entertwined, his chin resting against my cheek. Suddenly I heard and felt a peculiar churning which caused Legolas to laugh softly.

"I guess my stomach is trying to tell me something," he murmured. I laughed and sat up, allowing him to pick up his lembas and tea. I turned and faced him as he ate a piece of a pear. "Have you tried these yet, meleth ? They are wonderful."

I laughed slightly. "Not quite. . ." I said, receiving a quizzical look in return. I had forgotten that he had not been present during my conversation with Lalaithion—he had been busy talking to Radagast at the time and did not trouble his head with my inane conversations with that crazy elf. "Nevermind," I said.

He broke off a piece. "Here," he said, extending it toward me with slender fingers. I leaned forward across his lap and took a small bite out of the piece in his hand, keeping my eyes on his face the whole time whilst keeping my own features purposely blank. My eyes, however, told a different story, as did my mind, an electric, suggestive one that my husband knew all too well.

This little show elicited a smirk from him, but his pale eyes, which had gone a shade darker as they usually did when we were in this state of mind, were all seriousness. He put down his tea and leaned forward to meet my lips with a hungry kiss, exploring my mouth and my mind as only he knew how.

We both jumped when someone cleared his throat. We had been so preoccupied with each other that even our elven ears had not heard the newcomer’s approach. My husband’s normally ethereally-pale face was now redder than the fires of Mount Doom; I felt my own ears grow hot as well when I realized that the elf was Lalaithion.

I could literally almost feel him smirking as he said, "I am sorry to interrupt, your highnesses, but Captain Nurhoth would like to organize watches for the night."

Legolas bounded to his feet more quickly than a cat whilst extending his hand to help me rise. "Of course," he said, clearing his throat to cover his embarrassment. "You may tell the captain that the princess and I will take the first watch."

"Are you sure, caun nîn ?" Lalaithion asked, the humor even more evident in his voice. "If you and the Lady are otherwise preoccupied. . ." He trailed off.

Legolas chuckled softly and I fought not to smile. Only Lalaithion would have been able to get away with that comment. "We will take the first watch," my husband replied.

The auburn-haired elf smiled and gave a small bow. "As you wish," he said before returning to the others where he would probably laughingly relay to them exactly the state in which he had found the prince and princess.

Legolas turned back to me, snickering. "There you go again," he teased. "Always getting me into trouble."

"Me?" I replied, placing my hands on my hips in mock-hurt. "As I recall, my prince, you are the one who kissed me."

"Ha," he laughed. "I am quite innocent, for if you had not been so obviously flirting with me in such an utterly coquettish manner—"

I could take it no longer. I lunged at him but he was too quick for me. He attacked my sides and tickled me mercilessly until we fell to the ground in a heap, giggling breathlessly. He leaned over and lightly brushed the side of my neck with his lips, eliciting another loud giggle from my throat. I took opportunity of this momentary distraction to renew my assault, savagely tickling his stomach until he doubled over with laughter. He stopped me the only way he knew how: by tackling me bodily on the ground and silencing my giggles with his eagerly playful kisses.

Once again, our mad moment of mirth was interrupted by someone clearing his throat. Legolas was off of me like a rocket, both of us sitting up to see Captain Nurhoth, flanked by the other seven elves in our party. All save Lady Fânwen wore identical knowing grins as if they had caught us doing something much more naughty than just tickling and play fighting.

The prince once again helped me to my feet, trying to save a small bit of dignity, though as before our faces burned like fire. I adjusted my tunic and was somehow able to look Nurhoth in the eyes. He chuckled and shook his head good-naturedly as the others made their way to their respective bedrolls.

Only Lady Fânwen regarded us with something akin to disgust on her ageless face. I did not look away but met her gaze head-on, embarrassed but unashamed at the very public display of affection between my husband and myself, though I knew it had probably horrified her to no end. It was, after all, decidedly improper behavior in which the grown prince and princess of Mirkwood to indulge themselves. We could rest assured that the king would hear of it. The amusing thing was that Ada would probably laugh.

Legolas and I exchanged glances and self-conscious smiles as everyone bedded down for the night. We went back to our bedrolls where he finished eating, then gathered up our weapons for the watch. He took one side of the encampment and I took the other. The camp lapsed into a sleepy, comfortable silence, the only sounds being the wind and occasional voices of the trees, and the soft, light tenor voice of Legolas as he sang to me inside my head, long into the night.

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Edhel--elf

Ithiliel--daughter of the moon

Elleth --elf-maiden

Celebithil--silver moon

Ringhiril--cold lady

Khelekien --ice maiden

Galad-nîn --light of mine

Meleth --love