15.  Gifts

(May)

Legolas entered the family's small dining room to find his whole family already assembled, with the exception of Sinnarn.  Alfirin usually fed him and left him in his caretaker's hands to be settled down for an early morning nap before she came to breakfast herself.  They all turned to him with smiles, for it was his forty-third begetting day.

"May the stars always shine upon you, iôn-nín," his father said, rising to greet him with a kiss on the forehead.

"Thank you, Adar," he responded and slid into his seat.

It was the custom in Thranduil's family to give begetting day gifts at breakfast, and a small pile of brightly wrapped packages lay at Legolas's place at the table.  He picked up the package on top.

"That is from me," said Ithilden, and Legolas pried open the cleverly-folded paper to find a fine leather bracer for his bow arm.  A design of leaves wound its way around the bracer, picked out in gold tracing.  "A gift for a born archer," Ithilden told him.  "Penntalion says that I am very lucky that you will be on our side."

Legolas laughed. "Thank you," he said and reached for the next package.  When he had removed the paper, he found a bluish-gray silk shirt with abstract blue shapes rather like runes running around the cuffs and high collar.

"Hold it up to your face," Alfirin demanded and then smiled in satisfaction.  "I thought so.  The blue in the embroidery is the color of your eyes.  You will look very handsome in it."

Legolas felt himself blushing slightly.  "Thank you, Alfirin," he told her.

The last package turned out to contain a tooled leather box less than a foot square and perhaps three inches deep.  Inside were pens, paper, ink, sealing wax, and a seal.  It was a travel desk, meant to fit into a pack or saddle bag so that the one who carried it would have the means to write letters.

"That is from me," Eilian said.  "I expect you to write to me when you are off having adventures."

"Or perhaps sooner," Thranduil put in, "for I have a gift for you too, although you do not see it here."

"You have already given me Pilin," Legolas protested. "He was supposed to be an early begetting day gift."

"So he was," Thranduil agreed, "but you need a place to ride him to, so I have told Galion that you will accompany him when he goes to Esgaroth next week to buy goods."

Legolas blinked.  The idea that his father would allow him out of the Woodland Realm startled him, for protective as Thranduil had been before Karik took him prisoner, he had been doubly so since then.  He could not imagine what it must have cost his father to decide that Legolas should go with his steward on the next trip to Esgaroth.

Thranduil smiled rather thinly at his astonishment. "You have shown that you can represent me well, Legolas, and in that and in other ways too, you have earned the right to go."

Legolas rose from his seat and went to put his arms around his gratified father.  "I will be careful, Adar," he promised.  "You need not worry."

Thranduil patted his arm.  "I will endeavor to remember that," he said.

As he turned to return to his chair, Legolas intercepted the exchange of a triumphant glance between his brothers.  So, he thought in amusement, Adar had help in deciding to let me go on this trip.  Eilian saw him watching them and winked at him.

"I would like to make it known that this is very unfair, Adar," Eilian joked to Thranduil.  "You did not allow me to go out of the realm until I was of age, and I was far less trouble than the brat."

Thranduil snorted.  "Our memories differ," he said dryly.

Alfirin reached to remove the cloths that had covered two platters in the center of the table.  "I know that seed cakes are not really breakfast food," she apologized, "but Legolas likes them, so I had the cook make them anyway."

Legolas blinked.  It was ridiculous to feel teary eyed over something so trivial as seed cakes, he thought.

***

Legolas followed Galion through the crowded marketplace, trailing behind him as he went down the stairs from the docks to order items from the merchants on boats or stopped at the small stalls and shops ranged round the edge of the marketplace.  The Elves had ridden to within sight of the town yesterday, camped under the stars, and crossed the bridge into Esgaroth this morning, with Legolas blending in as simply one of the half dozen Elves who had accompanied his father's steward.  Given the looks that the town guards had given them, Legolas guessed that the fact that three of the accompanying Elves were armed warriors was unusual.  He assumed that it was his presence that had caused an increase in the number of Elven guards, but he said nothing.

Once inside the town, Galion had sent two of the other Elves off to seek out various goods that the Men would later ship to them by raft, and one of the guards had gone with them.  Galion had, however, kept Legolas with him and, while the two warriors following them tried to be unobtrusive, they were always in sight whenever he looked around.

Legolas sighed.  He supposed that his father had given him as much independence as he could bear to, and it would not help matters to be resentful. He ignored the guards and scanned the crowd curiously as Galion dickered with a cloth merchant.  Men and women pushed purposefully through the marketplace, stopping here and there to shop. Many of those who noticed him amid the press of their own business did not seem to be able to avoid staring at him.  He tried to disregard them, shifting his gaze out onto the dock near which he stood, only to find that a very pretty girl was eyeing him.  He blushed and hastily descended the stairs from the dock to the boat where Galion was still shopping.

He fixed his gaze on the merchant's goods and waited for the heat to fade from his face.  A tangle of color caught his eye, and he turned to a pile of brightly hued ribbons that were heaped on the merchant's table.  He fingered their silky surfaces, absentmindedly untangling a red one from the pile.

Suddenly he realized that merchant had moved to stand in front of him.  "Does your young helper perhaps want to buy some ribbons for his sweetheart?" he was asking Galion.  He lifted his head to see Galion looking at him inquiringly.

He turned back to the merchant and was beginning to deny any interest in buying when suddenly a thought struck him.  "I believe that I do want a ribbon," he said, with a slowly dawning smile.

"Which color?" the merchant asked.

Legolas looked at the ribbons again and found that his fingers had been acting wisely while his mind was elsewhere.  He pulled out the red ribbon he had been separating from the others.  "I think red," he said.  "This young lady seems to me to be someone who would like red."

"Excellent," said the merchant, accepting the coin that Legolas had now pulled out and offered him.

"Also," said Legolas, "can you tell me how to get to the house of the president of the trade council?"

Galion looked as if he wanted to protest but said nothing as the merchant gave directions. When the two Elves climbed back up the stairs to the dock, however, Galion turned to him.  "We are not going to call on the trade council president," Galion said firmly.  "We do not have time. Moreover, we are not expected.  A visit from us would cause a disturbance."

"You do not have to go," Legolas told him. "I will go by myself."

Galion rolled his eyes.  "I think not," he said.

"And anyway," Legolas went on, "I am not calling on the trade council president. I am calling on his daughter."

Galion looked at him in horror and Legolas could almost hear his mind working.  "Do not worry," he said, smothering a laugh. "She is this tall."  He held his hand at about waist level.

Galion relaxed a little.  "It would be as much as my life is worth to let you go by yourself," he said.  "But I suppose you may go if you take both guards."

Legolas looked at the two warriors in dismay but decided that this was the best offer he was likely to get.  "Very well," he agreed.

"Do not be too long," Galion told him.  "I will soon be done, and we will be leaving for home."

Legolas nodded and started off in the direction the merchant had indicated with both guards at his heels.  When he found the house, he stopped outside for a moment.  "I will not be long," he told the guards, and they nodded and drifted off to lean against a wall from which they could watch the house for his reappearance.  Legolas turned to the door and knocked.

The woman who opened the door was tall and blond.  "Good morning, mistress," he said politely.  "My name is Legolas.  I am a friend of Nitha's, and I wonder if she is at home." Before he had even finished speaking, a broad smile had creased the woman's face, and she had backed away from the door, beckoning him in.

"I am Nitha's mother," she told him, "and I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you, for my husband and I have both wished for the opportunity to thank you for what you did for our daughter."

Legolas found himself at a loss for words. "Nitha was very brave," he said finally.  "You must be proud of her."   These words were scarcely out of his mouth before the sound of running footsteps reached him and Nitha herself burst through a door from the back of the house.

"Legolas!" she cried, running toward him.  "I heard you!  I knew it was you!"  He laughed and held out his arms to her, but she skidded to a stop a few feet away from him.  "I want to hug you," she told him seriously, "but I do not want to hurt your back."

"My back is all better," he assured her.

"Let me see," she demanded imperiously.

"Nitha!" her mother reproved her.

Legolas hesitated only for a moment and then began to unfasten his shirt.  In honor of his trip to Esgaroth, he was not wearing his usual leggings and tunic, but loose trousers tucked into his boots and the silk shirt that Alfirin had given him for his begetting day.  He turned, crouched down in front of Nitha, and slipped the shirt far enough off his shoulders that she could see his back.  Small fingers ran over his muscles in a solemn inspection.

"It is all better," she admitted.  He shrugged the shirt back into place and turned to face her.

"I have brought you a present," he told her, "and if you give me a hug, you may have it."

She grinned at him.  "I would have hugged you anyway," she declared, suiting actions to words, "but a present is even better."

"Nitha!" exclaimed her mother again, scandalized.

Legolas laughed.  He had tried his best to forget most of what had happened in Karik's camp, but this little girl was worth remembering.

***

(June)

Eilian entered the palace garden to find that the rest of his family were already there. Already dressed in his formal robes, Thranduil sat in a chair in the shade of an oak tree, contentment written on his face as he watched Legolas, who was stretched out on a blanket on the grass playing with Sinnarn.  Ithilden sat with his arm around Alfirin, both of them smiling fondly at their son and his uncle.  Eilian greeted them all and then dropped onto a bench near Legolas, eyeing Legolas's laughing face with satisfaction as he did so.  His younger brother looked relaxed and happy, and not for the first time, Eilian rejoiced that Legolas seemed to have recovered well from what must have been a harrowing experience. The trip to Esgaroth had been good for him, Eilian thought.  He had come home looking more self-confident.

With a look of utter concentration on his little face, Sinnarn was trying his best to grasp one of his young uncle's braids, but at present, his hand was opening and closing an inch or so away from his target.

"I would not put a bow in his hand quite yet," Legolas joked to Ithilden, just as the baby succeeded in grasping the braid and giving it a mighty yank.

"Ouch!" Legolas cried, grabbing at his hair to rescue it.

Sinnarn crowed gleefully and grinned at Legolas, his arms and legs churning in excitement.

Legolas laughed and looked up at Eilian.  "I swear he looks exactly like you," he said.

"He looks like my adar," protested Alfirin.

"Of course he does," said Ithilden soothingly.

Legolas had now climbed to his feet.  "I need to go and get changed," he said. This morning, Tynd and Calorfil were going to pledge their faith as warriors of the Woodland Realm and three young elves were going to join the ranks of the novices.  Eilian remembered feeling great satisfaction when his own group of novices was no longer the newest among them, and he assumed that Legolas felt much the same.

"Give Sinnarn to me," Thranduil ordered, and Legolas scooped the baby up and deposited him on his grandfather's lap.

"I am going to spend the night at Annael's, Adar," Legolas told him.  "We are going to celebrate with Galelas and Isendir."

"Indeed?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow at him.  "Do you wish to take wine to share?"

Legolas froze for a moment and then cautiously nodded.

"Very well," said Thranduil. "I will have Galion prepare two skins of an appropriate vintage.  I suspect he will not choose the Dorwinion."  He smiled serenely and began jouncing a suddenly fussy Sinnarn on his knees.

"Thank you, Adar," Legolas responded rather weakly and then escaped into the palace.

Eilian laughed and leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Do you not wish them to educate their palates, Adar?" he teased.

"Not with my Dorwinion," Thranduil snorted. He frowned and lifted his grandson slightly off his lap.  "I am afraid he is wet, Alfirin," he said, eyeing the rather obvious wet spot on the front of his own formal robes.

"Oh, I am sorry," cried Alfirin. "Let me take him."  She rose and took her son.  "I am sorry," she repeated, eyeing the wet spot and laughing a little.

"Never mind," Thranduil said resignedly, rising to go inside and change. "Eilian once did the same thing to me just as a group of warriors arrived to make a formal report after a month-long patrol."

With what sounded like a strangled cry, Alfirin hugged Sinnarn to her and hurried into the house, followed at a more leisurely pace by the king.

There was a moment's silence.  "He does actually look a great deal like you did at that age," Ithilden finally ventured in a resigned tone.

Eilian laughed.  "Poor Alfirin!" he said.

Ithilden chuckled a little too and then leaned back to study the summer morning sky.  "She is incredibly beautiful," he sighed, "and she deserves better than me, but I wake every morning deeply thankful that she has not yet realized it."

Eilian smiled slightly to himself.  He had heard Ithilden praise Alfirin as beautiful on many occasions and always found it touching.  To Eilian, his sister-in-law was pleasant looking enough and she did have glorious hair, although she rarely wore it loose, but he believed that the beauty she wore in his brother's eyes was an effect of the love with which he saw her.

Eilian sat quietly for a moment, trying to think of how to bring up the subject that was now on his mind.  "She is recovering well from the birth," he finally ventured.  "And you seem to be less tired, too."

Ithilden brought his shrewd gaze down from the sky to meet Eilian's but said nothing.

"I have been home for more than a year now," Eilian went on, steadily.  "Do you not think it is time that you sent me back where I belong?"

Ithilden looked away and sighed.  "Are you sure that is what you want?" he asked.  "You have done a good job with the Home Guard.  Moreover, I like having you here and not just for personal reasons.  I value your opinion, and there is no one else I trust so well."

Eilian felt an unexpected flood of gratitude for his brother's trust and affection but found that they did not change what he wanted. "I need to go back to the south, Ithilden," he said flatly.  "In all modesty, I am very good at what I do there, and doing it makes me feel alive as I feel at no other time."

Ithilden ran his hand over his tightly braided hair and seemed to make up his mind.  "Very well," he said.  "I will see to it tomorrow."

Eilian blinked and let out the breath he had not known he was holding. "What about Adar?" he asked cautiously.

"I will see to Adar," Ithilden told him, although he grimaced a bit.

Eilian could not contain himself and jumped to his feet with a whoop.  Ithilden smiled up at him rather sadly.  "You had better take care," he said.  "If you come to harm, I will never forgive you."

***

Legolas stood with the other novices in a line that was much more tidy than usual, feeling pleasantly aware that he and Annael were no longer at the line's end.  Next to him stood Elrál, Tinéldor, and Elun, all of whom he knew from the weapons training that they had shared for years before he became a novice.  And all of them were now his juniors in the training.  His group had cleaned the warriors' stables for the last time, he thought happily.

He and the other novices were ranged along one end of the training fields facing his father and Ithilden, who stood at the other end.  Eilian stood in the shadows slightly behind Ithilden.  Between the field's two ends, warriors stood in two rows facing one another, with a wide path between the rows.  They ranged from the youngest, who stood nearest the novices, to the most seasoned warriors, who stood nearest the king.  Tynd and Calorfil both stood nervously just in front of the line of novices.

Legolas glanced to the edges of the field, where Tynd's and Calorfil's families and friends and those of the three new novices stood chatting in the shade of the rustling trees in full summer leaf.  Gradually, they fell silent as it became obvious that the ceremony was about to begin.

Lómilad had now stepped out of the line of warriors and begun to address Thranduil. "My lords," he said, "I bring these Elves before you, for they desire to serve the Woodland Realm with their weapons and their strength."

"Let them each advance," said Thranduil, and Lómilad signaled first to Tynd, who took a deep breath and then walked across the field between the two lines of warriors to stop in front of Thranduil and lay his bow and his sword at the king's feet.  "What is it you ask of us?" Thranduil asked him.

"My lord," said Tynd in a clear voice, "I ask to be allowed to join the ranks of your warriors that I might defend the realm and its people from whatever harm may threaten them."

"Do you pledge to use your strength to serve the cause of good and to give your obedience to the command of those set over you?" Thranduil asked.

"I do, my lord," Tynd answered.

Thranduil reached out and laid his hands on Tynd's shoulders. "Then we welcome you to our service and that of our people," said Thranduil.  "Take up your weapons and join the ranks of our warriors."  He dropped his hands and Tynd picked up and sheathed his sword and then shouldered his bow.  He turned to face Ithilden who grasped his forearm in a warrior's greeting.  Eilian too stepped forward, grinned at him, and clasped forearms with him, for both Tynd and Calorfil were going into the Home Guard, and thus, Legolas thought, would be under Eilian's command, at least for a few months until they had gained some experience. Then Tynd turned to walk back between the rows and take his place at the end of the line of warriors nearest the novices.

Lómilad signaled again and Calorfil began to walk between the rows of warriors to take his turn in pledging his skill with weapons to the use of the Woodland Realm.

As simple as that? Legolas thought.  The words seemed few for the life of service and self-sacrifice that being a warrior would entail in the evil days that seemed to be drawing ever closer.  Legolas glanced over to where Tynd's family stood and saw the mixture of pride and regret on his parents' faces.  Their son had stepped into his adult life today and the path he had chosen was a dangerous one.  Now Calorfil had finished, and he too had picked up his weapons and moved into the line of warriors.

Thranduil scanned the warriors from one side of the field to the other and then, at his signal, a minstrel began to play.  Strong voices rose from around the field and from the youngest novice to the oldest warrior they all joined in.  The song told of the harmony of the Greenwood that once was and, if their strength would prevail, would one day be again.  Legolas joined in too, knowing that he, like the others, had a part to play in the harmony.

***

Epilogue

(March 15, 3019 TA)

Legolas leaned against the ship's rail and swept his gaze over the chaotic battlefield that they were gradually nearing.  His keen eyes picked out the banners of the Rohirrim toward the north side of the field and, nearer to him, he saw the enemy forces that they would momentarily engage.  He scanned what appeared to be Men from several different forces and then settled on a group of strong-looking, bearded warriors, clad in grey and red robes with golden collars.

Something stirred in the back of his mind, and all at once, he realized that these Men had a familiar look to them, for they reminded him of Karik.   And all in a flash, that year of his youth came back to him, for it was the year in which he had first begun to be aware of the seriousness of what was happening in the wider world beyond the Woodland Realm.  He had met the Men from Esgaroth in his father's palace, and he had battled the Easterlings on his own in that small tent and then with his father's warriors as they drove those shadow-touched Men from the woods.

And mixed with it all had been the people and the smaller events that had been keenly important to him, although they would never catch the attention of the tellers of great tales.  He thought of Miri and his first explorations of the joy that can be between male and maid, and he thought also of Falad, who had truly loved her and been rewarded in the end.  He remembered Nitha, long-buried, with her own children and grandchildren to mourn her and now lie buried themselves.  He had seen Thranduil's enraged defense of those he loved and had felt his father beginning, with difficulty, to let him go on his way to adulthood.  He had watched Eilian struggle to defer his own desires in order to help Ithilden and seen Ithilden learn that he did not need to be the only strong one.  And at the end of that wonderful, terrible year, Sinnarn had been born.  Legolas knew that nothing is lost and that all of this had somehow helped to lead him bit by bit onto the path he now trod.

"Get ready!" Aragorn cried.

And Legolas was ready.  The time had come.  He would follow this Man into battle and, if he had to, he would sacrifice his own life for him.  With an effort, he shoved from his mind the thing he had already sacrificed when the gull had cried and his heart had begun to sing a new song of longing.

"Now!" shouted Aragorn, and his sword flashed as he leapt from the ship down onto the quay.

Now! thought Legolas.  Now!  And he, too, leapt to the quay and began to fire his bow, an action that felt as natural as breathing to him.  "Perhaps it is not just the bow that I was born for," he thought.  "Perhaps it is to use my bow now."  And he followed Aragorn into the fray.

*******

AN:  The tone of this story's last two chapters is very different from what I had first intended when I outlined the story in mid-May.  That's because up until about two weeks ago, I had intended to have Eilian die in the battle with the Easterlings.  Fortunately, Nilmandra (my beta, who, I believe, never did think I would really do it) and TreeHugger (who has experience in killing OCs) helped me come to my senses, and I realized that I just could not bear to send the charming flirt to the Halls of Mandos.  I feel as if I need to apologize for something, although whether it's for not doing what the story arc called for or for considering killing Eilian in the first place, I'm not sure.