Summary:  Legolas faces losing Arod to old age and injury, but finds that his friend has a different solution in mind.  However, replacing Arod is another story entirely -- and then there is that problem with the sea…

Disclaimer:  Middle-earth and its characters are the creation of JRR Tolkien, and belong solely to him.  I am merely borrowing them for a time.  There is no profit in this story except the joy I gained in writing it.

Acknowledgments:  Thanks to Teanna, for allowing me to reference THE ELVISH WAY WITH ALL GOOD BEASTS.

 *All characters' thoughts are in italics.

Chapter 5:  Mithril and Gold 

     The soft gray pre-dawn light had just begun to give way to the gold of the rising sun when Legolas stepped out of Aragorn’s tent.  He had not meant to fall asleep, but the emotional upheaval caused by speaking of his latest experience with the sea-longing had been exhausting and he had not fully recovered from the previous few days.

     He stood for a moment surveying the sleeping camp and enjoying the fresh morning air.  The fires had gone out, leaving only wisps of smoke rising ghost-like to mark their places.  Legolas winced as a particularly loud rumble from the tent behind him assaulted his sensitive ears.  He shook his head, a perplexed look on his fair face.  How could Aragorn possibly sleep with all that noise?  An echoing rumble, pitched differently, answered that question.

     Hmmmm.  Legolas cocked his head to listen more closely.  That is an interesting harmony.  He grinned.  I thought that the dwarf was the culprit who awakened me this morning.  Perhaps I should rethink that…it seems Gimli has an accomplice!

     Still smiling at the thought of the dwarf and the man conspiring to render him deaf, Legolas walked away from the tent and the noise, crossing the campground on silent feet.

     After stopping by his own tent to clean up and change clothes, he followed the sounds of many horses, walking downhill and parallel to the river.  There, in a smaller, secondary stand of trees he found Arod.  Keen eyes recognized Aravir’s handiwork immediately in the small, fenced enclosure called a Rhawiath – the elven equivalent of a hand-woven corral.  He smiled, noting that in the absence of vines Aravir had made excellent use of Rohirrim ropes and branches, making the corral itself part of the trees.

     A short sweet trill of a whistle brought Arod to the entrance.  Legolas laughed as the horse danced impatiently while he untied the “gate” to release him.  He then found himself under the close scrutiny of a very concerned horse as Arod snuffled and nuzzled him head to toe, making certain his elf was in good health.

     Arod, you…ah, stop…that tickles…you big oaf…no…stop…that braid is not removable!

     Defense, it occurred to him, was not an option so he finally did the only thing possible.  He ran.  Turning and sprinting away from the camp, he crossed the expanse of gently waving grass, the overjoyed horse hot on his heels.

     A tree!  Where is a tree when I need it?

     Looking frantically for an escape, Legolas realized too late that he had run away from the only trees around!  About that time, Arod caught up with him and a rousing game of chase ensued.  Legolas was never sure who was chasing whom although it seemed he never got too far before being sideswiped by the playful horse.  Finally, he collapsed in the grass, laughing helplessly, tucking his knees up close to his chin and wrapping both arms around his head with Arod nosing and nudging him over repeatedly until he tumbled like a child’s ball.

     You roll nicely.

     Legolas chuckled, his mouth full of grass.

     "Mumph  ---  mummmmmmppphhh!"

     What was that?

     The beleaguered elf straightened suddenly and springing like an attacking cat, he grabbed Arod’s mane and vaulted onto the relatively safe silver-gray back.  He spat out blades of grass and hugged the horse’s strong neck.  Arod tossed his head, turning and nipping lightly at the elf’s knees. 

     Remembering another time in the not too distant past when the horse had overextended himself and ended up hurt, Legolas leaned forward calling, “Enough!  I surrender!”

     Arod, however, was just beginning to enjoy himself.  He gave a series of small, stiff-legged jumps, trying to unseat the elf clinging to his back.  Tugging on his horse’s mane emphatically, Legolas cried again, “Daro!  Stop, Arod…let me down!  You will hurt yourself again!”

     Noting the rising concern in Legolas’ voice, Arod reluctantly stopped and let him slide to the ground.  He immediately began running his hands over the sleek, sun-warmed coat and down the right foreleg, looking for any sign of swelling. 

     I am well…you worry too much.

     “I know, I know…stand still, mellon nin,” Legolas murmured, still checking the leg closely.

     The horse gave in and stood quietly, staring across the plains to the mountains beyond.  Legolas completed the examination to his satisfaction and came to stand beside Arod’s head.  One hand rubbed the velvet nose while the other draped across Arod’s neck.

     The two stood in companionable silence, watching the shadows of early morning clouds chase each other across the plain.  Legolas sighed.

     Why do you wish to leave me?

     The elf stiffened.  I do not, my friend, but I dare not ride you anymore because of the injury to your leg.

     Arod snorted softly, and turned his head to eye the elf at his side.

     I do not wish to return to the herds.

     Legolas’ breath caught in surprise.  “You do not?” he whispered.  “But…but I thought you would want to live with the others again…run free across the plains once more…go home…”

     I am home.

     Gray eyes widened as Legolas stared at the horse in surprise.  A muffled exclamation escaped his lips and he flung his arms around the horse’s neck.  

     Arod tossed his head.  Sometimes your thinking…

     “I know,” Legolas managed to choke out the words, half laughing at the horse’s long-suffering thought, half crying at his own arrogant assumption.  “I cannot believe I never even asked what you wanted.  Forgive me, my friend.”

     You were frightened for me.  Do not be sorry for worrying about my well -being.  BUT you must find another to ride, and soon.  One who is young and strong…one who will understand you and the small, loud one.

     “Then you must come with me while I search,” Legolas stroked Arod’s neck and tugged on his mane.  “I will need you to help me make a suitable choice.”

     Then I may still stay with you in the forest…and you will ride me from time to time…slowly?

     “Yes, yes, of course, Arod nin,” Legolas answered in a relieved, shaken voice. “Whenever I can!”

     At the edge of the trees some distance away, Eomer and Ranulf stood silently watching.

     “Ah, Ranalf,” Eomer whispered, “how will those two ever stand to be parted?”

     Ranalf, who had been watching the elf and horse closely, drew in a sharp breath when Legolas turned and began walking towards them.  Instead of the gloom of sadness, the light in the elf’s eyes and the smile on his face rivaled the brightness of the sun.  The horse following nudged him playfully from behind.

     “Perhaps they need not be parted, my Lord,” he replied joyfully.  “Look!”

     Eomer eyed the two, noting the exultant look on Legolas’ face and exclaimed softly, “Well!  Perhaps not, indeed!”  He clapped Ranalf on the shoulder and walked forward to meet the oncoming pair.

     Legolas smiled brilliantly at Eomer.  “Suilad, my Lord King!  So, tell me…when do we leave?”  Arod stopped behind, resting his head on Legolas’ shoulder.

     Eomer stared at Legolas and Arod, his eyes narrowed in speculation.  He folded his arms across his chest.  “All right, you two!  What has happened?”

     Legolas shrugged innocently.  “Why nothing, Eomer.  Why do you ask?”

     Arod nudged the elf and Legolas swatted at him, laughing. 

     “All right!  All right!  Eomer, we must find a new horse for me to ride - one young and strong and tolerant of dwarf riders!”

     And elf riders!  Arod nipped at the nearest elf ear.

     “Ai, Arod!  Of course, and elf riders, too!” Legolas ducked away, laughing harder.  Arod followed happily.

     Eomer waited patiently for the two to stop playing, his smile growing ever wider.  Ranalf joined him, chuckling as the horse continued to plague Legolas.  Finally, the two stopped and Legolas rejoined the men after sending Arod to the river for water.

     Legolas looked at them looking at him, waiting expectantly.  He finally relented, saying simply, “I will choose a new horse.  Arod will come along to help and then we will all return to Ithilien.”

     Eomer raised both eyebrows in surprise.  For six months, he had been hearing how Arod would rejoin the herds when his leg had healed.  This was news indeed!  He looked questioningly at Ranalf.

     His stablemaster shrugged and grinned.  “A better solution for all involved, my Lord.  The horse would grieve endlessly for Lord Legolas, and he for the horse.  This way they can be together, and you already know I thoroughly approve of the idea of him finding a new horse to ride.”

     Both men looked at the smiling elf.  Legolas nodded agreeably.  “As I have said, if I must do so, I will.”

     The King laughed.  “And here Strider and I were devising all manner of arguments and persuasions to make you agree to the need for another horse.  You surely are tiresome at times, Legolas!”

     Legolas threw him an offended look.  “I wanted him happy, Eomer…I thought his freedom would make it so.”  He shook his head, grinning slightly.  “I just thought…ah, well, perhaps I was not thinking…at least, not clearly.” 

     A sudden thought occurred to him.  He looked at Eomer suspiciously.

     “What manner of ‘persuasions’?” he asked.

     The King chuckled.  “Oh, Strider said something about trees…and rope…and singing…”

     Legolas’ eyes widened in horror.  “He would have to catch me first!  Eomer, have you ever HEARD him sing?”

     Eomer and Ranalf both laughed.  “I always thought Elessar had a rather pleasant way with a song,” Ranalf offered helpfully.

     “Pleasant?”  Legolas choked.  “Your pardon, Ranalf, but your idea of singing leaves much to be desired.”

     He bowed low to Eomer.  “I am leaving.  Please tell Strider of my decision and that ropes and songs will NOT be necessary!”  He turned away.

     Eomer, struggling so hard not to laugh he could barely speak, managed to croak,  “Wait!  Legolas!  Where are you going?”

     The elf looked back over his shoulder, his expression practically screaming “surely you are joking”.  His voice drifted back to Eomer.  “Somewhere quiet!”

     Ranalf and Eomer looked at each other, grinning.  “Where does he think to hide on the plains?” asked Ranalf.  The men looked back in the direction Legolas had taken to find he had already disappeared.  Ranalf took a step after him, but Eomer stopped him.

     “If the elf does not wish to be found, Ranalf, then believe me, you will not find him.  Come.  I, for one, need something to eat!”

     The two made their way back to the camp, chuckling as they discussed all that had just taken place.  The men were now awake and gathered around rebuilt fires preparing to break their fast.  Gimli and Strider were just emerging from the tent when they arrived and at the sight of the two laughing, walked over to see what was so funny.

     “What has you two so amused this early in the morning?” Strider asked.  “And have either of you seen Legolas?”

     Ranalf gave a yelp of laughter and Eomer swallowed a chuckle that set him to gasping and coughing.

     Gimli put both hands on his hips and glared at the men.  “What is that elf up to now?  We have been worried about him being gone, what with his recent illness.”

     Realizing how the elf’s absence might have concerned his friends, Eomer sobered quickly and related the morning’s events, along with Legolas’ new decision to keep Arod with him.  Exclamations of relief escaped all who listened and Aravir, who had just joined the group nodded, a look of satisfaction on his beautiful face.

     “I have been hoping he would realize that we could easily care for Arod at Ithilien and that leaving him was not really necessary.”

     Gimli looked at Aravir impatiently.  “And did you tell him so, Aravir?”

     The elf gazed at him, his face scandalized.  “My Lord is a Prince, Lord Gimli,” he replied stiffly.  “’Tis not my place…”

     “I think we should all just forget about that “Prince” title he wears,” Gimli returned gruffly, “and start thinking about the friend that he is.” 

      His dark eyes, snapping with temper, took in the other men in a glance as he continued, “We are all guilty of it.  We should have insisted he keep the horse with him from the beginning.  His talk of leaving that animal behind was sheer foolishness…”

     “But Gimli, it was his decision,” Strider interrupted.  Several others, Eomer and Ranalf included, nodded in agreement.  “We were trying to support him by letting him make the decision he thought best.”

     Gimli snorted.  “I know that, Strider.  I am as guilty as every one of you…and as foolish.”  The men considered arguing, but in retrospect, knew the dwarf was right. 

     Aravir still looked confused.  “But to presume to question his decisions, my lord,” he stammered.  “I am his watch commander…”

     “And his friend, are you not, Aravir?” questioned the dwarf, looking at the elf shrewdly.

     Aravir flushed slightly.  “Well, I…” he hesitated, his natural position as a subordinate to the Prince warring with the friendship he obviously felt.

     “As I said, Aravir,” Gimli scowled.  “If you count him as a friend, you had best learn to speak to him as one.”

     The dwarf turned away, muttering under his breath in the guttural language of his people about the stiff necks of elves.

     Aravir looked at Strider helplessly.  The King of Gondor walked over to him and putting a friendly, sympathetic hand on his shoulder, led him off to a nearby fire, saying, “Let me tell you a few things about your Prince, Aravir…”

     Elfwine, who had come late to the discussion, watched the departing king, elf, and dwarf with wide eyes and a puzzled look on his face.  He looked up at his father and whispered, “Where IS Legolas, Father?”

     Eomer smiled down into the clear turquoise eyes of his son and whispered back, “I think he went up a tree, my son.”  He nodded in the direction of the Rhawiath.

     Elfwine gave a whoop of delight and ran towards the trees.  Eomer shook his head and went to join Strider and the bemused elf sitting beside him.  He was always interested in any information that might further his understanding of these fair, inscrutable creatures, especially if the creature under discussion happened to be the Prince of Lasgalen.

     Two hours later, Legolas strolled back into camp with Elfwine, looking about carefully for any signs of ambushing men or dwarfs.  When none appeared, he heaved a sigh of relief, not noticing the men around him hiding their smiles as he walked past.  Elfwine smothered his own smile and shook his head in warning at the men as they passed.  It had taken some serious negotiating to get the elf this far!

     They found Strider, Gimli, and Eomer sitting outside Strider’s tent, talking with Aravir, Jarrod, and Eomer’s captain, Gerrith.  A map lay between them on the ground.

     Six pairs of eyes lifted to examine Legolas as he approached and six faces lit with amusement at the guarded look on his face.  Strider indicated a place beside him, while Elfwine joined his father. 

     “Suilad, Legolas.  Havodad, mellon nin.”  Strider smiled broadly, a decidedly fiendish twinkle sparkling in his eyes.

     Legolas stopped dead in his tracks and just looked at his friend.  Everyone burst out laughing, even Gimli who had finally decided elven necks would ever remain unbending.

     Legolas sat, his face slightly flushed with embarrassment.  Strider patted his back consolingly until the bright eyes of his friend turned on him, promising all manner of retribution if he did not stop.

     Strider cleared his throat and said, indicating the map, “We were trying to decide the best place to go to find your new horse, my friend.”

     Legolas looked surprised.  “Not the Westfold?” he questioned.

     Eomer shook his head.  “Gerrith was saying there are some fine wild herds roaming east of here.  We can follow the Snowbourn until it joins the Entwash.  We will have to turn north for a time to find the Entwade in order to cross the river, but that should only delay us a day or so.  We will cross the river into the part of the Wold called the East Emnet.  From that point it is three days’ journey to the mountains bordering the Anduin, provided we move slowly to accommodate Arod’s pace.”

     He paused and looked at Strider and Legolas.  “I am sure you two and Gimli have very fond memories of that land.”

     At their blank looks, he laughed.  “Do you not remember?  Twelve years ago the Three Hunters made their legendary sprint across that part of Rohan in search of two halflings.”

     Strider and Legolas looked at each other and heaved great, gusty sighs.  “I grow weary just thinking about it,” Strider said, shuddering dramatically.

     “At least we may ride this time,” Legolas added, “and I know Gimli will NOT want to repeat the experience…you know how dwarfs are wasted on cross-country running!”

     Everyone burst out laughing and Strider exchanged an understanding look with the elf.  Memory of that desperate time still seemed so fresh in their minds; sometimes it only took a word to bring it to life again.

     Eomer watched his two friends fondly.  “Well, I will always remember it as the day I was almost skewered by an elven bolt…and the day every childhood story I had ever been told came to life.  At any rate, Gerrith knows the land well and even lives nearby.  We can set up the main camp there and work from that area.”

     Legolas nodded in agreement.  “When do we leave?”

     “Early tomorrow morning,” Eomer said, smiling.  “Right now I am sending out some hunting parties.  Tonight, we celebrate!”

     “And just what are we celebrating, aran brannon?”  Legolas asked curiously.

     “Believe it or not, Legolas, we were all dreading the separation of you and Arod.  Now, we celebrate your newfound wisdom in keeping him with you!” Eomer explained.

     Strider leaned close and whispered in the elf’s ear.  “Any excuse for a party…  right, my friend?”

     Legolas looked back and smiled, “Indeed!”

     Later that night Eomer joined Strider to watch a laughing Legolas and Aravir entertain the men, Elfwine, and Gimli with some rather rowdy Mirkwood songs.  Eomer raised an eyebrow.  “I did not know elves sang songs like THAT!”

     Strider snickered.  “You have never gone on a Mirkwood patrol before, obviously.”  He gestured at Legolas.

     “Legolas captained the southern patrols and later the Home Guard for his father during the dark days, many years before Mirkwood became Eryn Lasgalen.  Aravir also served in and led many patrols.”

     The men observed the two fair beings - one fair, one dark; so different, yet so much alike in many ways.  Strider tried to explain those differences to Eomer, saying, “You should remember, my friend, that Silvan elves such as Aravir are different from the Sindarin nobility…King Thranduil would tell you they embrace their freedom more energetically!” 

     Eomer chuckled, “Energetically?  You mean they are wild, do you not, my friend?” 

     Strider laughed.  “Yes, exactly, but in a good way, Eomer.  They embrace the forest completely and their hearts and lives are very closely tied to Ennor.  Legolas grew up amongst the Silvan elves of Mirkwood.  They are his people and he loves and respects them.  Besides, I think that wildness appeals to our Prince.  He is quite capable of both diplomacy and courtly behavior, but put him in a fight and you see a whole different side of him.”

     He smiled, and looked at Eomer.  “You have seen him, Eomer…he is like a finely balanced weapon, lethal and deadly.  Legolas is a true blending of two great warrior races.”

     Eomer nodded thoughtfully.  Both men watched as Legolas threw back his head and shouted with laughter at a verse sung by Aravir and Eomer examined the smiling crowd surrounding the two. 

     “He is well loved, Strider…by my people…and yours…his own,” Eomer said softly.  “He seems much better tonight.  Whatever weighed on him so heavily has lifted.  Has the danger to him passed then?”

     “For now, my friend,” Strider replied.  “He will stay and find some way to deal with the sea.  He has set his mind to it, in light of this last attack.  Eventually he will solve it.”  He shook his head ruefully.  “I just hope WE survive it!”

     “We will watch him closely until he does solve this problem, Strider,” Eomer stated decisively.  “He is very helpless while in its grip, isn’t he?”

     “Yes, he is.”  Strider continued to watch his friend.  Then, he and Eomer began clapping as the song reached a rousing conclusion and went to join the others. 

~~~~~*~~~~~

     The next day at dawn the camp was struck and the group began the trek east.  Legolas rode a spirited black stallion named Night Storm (compliments of Eomer) with a grumbling Gimli perched behind. 

     Arod, free of saddle, bridle, and rider, kept pace beside the black, moving easily and often ranging out from the group to explore with all the curiosity of a young colt.

     At the end of the first day, Legolas and Ranalf examined the injured leg closely and found it strong and unaffected by the day’s travel.  At Arod’s triumphant whinny and knowing look, both man and elf doubled over with laughter.

     That evening Eomer strolled through the camp, speaking to his men and looking for Legolas.  When asked, Gimli had suggested looking away from the main camp.

     “He does not often separate himself though I have seen him do it before,” Gimli explained, glancing up at Strider who stood beside him.  “But Strider and I think he might need the quiet away from everyone after all he has been through lately.” 

     Strider nodded, and said, “Look on the edge of camp close to the river.  I saw him move his things there earlier after we had eaten.” 

     Nodding his thanks, Eomer continued his search and finally found the elf seated before a small fire a short distance from the riverbank.  He stopped for a moment, gazing appreciatively at the glittering water and the open plain beyond, all wrapped in the golden light of the dying day and the gray-blue shadows of the coming night.

     Sinking down beside Legolas, he watched the elf gazing into the darkening sky at the first star which had made its appearance above the summit of the distant mountains.

     “Look, Eomer,” he whispered.  “Earendil begins his nightly journey.”

     They watched the gleaming star for several long moments before Legolas finally tore his gaze away and looked into the flames of the fire before him.  He seemed distracted, troubled…and far away.  Eomer sat silently, hesitant to interrupt the elf’s reverie, absorbing the peaceful quiet of this isolated corner of the camp.  He wondered what had caused Legolas’ disquiet and if he would speak eventually. 

     Finally, the golden elf seemed to shake off his somber mood and his bright eyes turned to look at the man beside him.  He smiled apologetically and reached into a bag close beside him.  Taking out two fresh apples, he tossed one to Eomer while taking a healthy bite from the other. 

     “Mae govannen, aran brannon,” he said softly.

     Eomer nodded in greeting, watching the somber, composed face.  He sought for the right words to say to the Prince, words that might ease the tension he sensed in the elf.

     “I hear Arod does well.  Ranalf said the horse practically speaks, his eyes are so eloquent,” he said conversationally, hoping the hilarity of this particular event would lighten the elf’s mood.

     Indeed, Legolas smiled at the memory and took another bite of the fruit.  Eomer gave a small sigh of relief at the smile and visible signs that Legolas was beginning to relax. 

     Eomer leaned forward and said, “I wanted to talk to you about choosing your new horse.  What do you think of the black you ride now?  He is a magnificent animal and worthy of your consideration as a new mount, is he not?”

     Legolas examined the fruit he had been nibbling on and looked at Eomer thoughtfully.  “Yes,” he agreed, “he is a fine animal and more than worthy of my consideration, Eomer.”

     “Then do consider him,” Eomer instructed, clapping the elf on the back.  “I would be honored to gift him to you, Legolas.  Do not answer now…take your time and think about it.”  He rose to his feet and smiled down at Legolas before turning to make his way back to the main camp and his tent.

     Eyes the color of shifting fog followed him until he disappeared, then returned to quietly contemplate the dancing flames of the fire.

~~~~~*~~~~~

     The journey passed quickly and uneventfully.  When they reached the crossing at the Entwade, the clear green water of the Entwash had provided a pleasant diversion and baths for all with the exception of Gimli, who claimed loudly that he was not a fish and if anyone touched him he would not be responsible for the damage done!  The rest of the party, even the horses, had joined the men and elves in the swimming and splashing at the crossing. 

     By dusk on the fifth day they reached the sprawling settlement that Gerrith called home.  The entire village turned out to welcome the travelers warmly and stare at the King of Gondor, the Prince of Lasgalen, and the Lord of Aglarond.

     Eomer chuckled at their discomfort, saying, “I am old news, my friends, merely the King of the Mark, while you…you are the stuff of legend!”

     Gerrith gathered the village leaders and along with Eomer, they made plans to begin the search.  With the aid of the villagers, they dispatched riders to locate the wild herds that grazed the surrounding lands.  In the meantime, provisions were gathered and replenished, tents mended and a number of horses reshod by the village blacksmith.  Eomer then sent several men ahead to establish a base camp closer to the mountains.

     In the midst of all this preparation Gimli was heard to mutter, “If I never see the back of a horse again, I will consider myself blessed.”

     Of course, Legolas overheard the remark and felt honor-bound to tell him he would be riding again the next morning.

     “It is as I predicted, Gimli,” he continued in a superior, lofty voice, guaranteed to irritate the dwarf, “you are already complaining and we have yet to reach our destination…”

     “Ah, laddie, but I have NOT said a word about my backside, now have I?” Gimli retorted.

     Men working nearby turned to listen as the conversation registered.  Smiles began appearing, and muffled laughter heard.  The argumentative friendship between elf and dwarf had become well known among their companions.

     Legolas eyed his short friend and smirked.  “No, but one has only to watch the way you walk…”

     “You…you…you pointy-eared…” the dwarf sputtered, a flush darkening his face.

     “Yes?” Legolas queried innocently, his gray-blue eyes fairly dancing with glee.

     “ELF!” Gimli bellowed, quivering with outrage.  

     Legolas bowed slightly, “How perceptive of you to notice, Master Dwarf!” 

     To the delight of all the bystanders, a rather energetic exchange of insults began as the two walked off to their tents to gather and pack their belongings. 

     The next day they left the village behind and made their way to the new camp, a day’s ride away and set at the edge of one of the numerous forested areas springing from the foot of the mountains.

     Legolas and Aravir both breathed deeply of the fresh green, leaf- scented air and promptly disappeared into the woods to explore.

     Later, when questioned Gimli shrugged and said, “Those two are off somewhere talking to the trees and probably scampering through the branches like two overgrown squirrels.”

     He snorted and said derisively, “Do not look for them anytime soon!”

     Strider chuckled at the dwarf’s comments but agreed.  “He is right.  They were chafing badly at all the openness and grass surrounding them, without the benefit of any decent trees,” he told Eomer.  “They will return when they have made the acquaintance of every tree close to this camp.”

     At Eomer’s startled look, he continued, “But it is not a bad thing…if the trees are willing they will warn of any danger that might approach us from the mountains.”  He grinned.  “Elves are quite handy to have around.”  Eomer, his expression bemused, agreed.

     It was the next afternoon before Legolas and Aravir finally returned.  “Feeling better, my friends?” Strider asked, grinning at them as they strolled into the camp. 

     Legolas nodded, turning to gaze at the forest behind him.  “Look at them, Strider!  Are they not magnificent?  They do not know us well yet, but Aravir and I plan to remedy that soon!” 

     Strider laughed aloud at the elf’s enthusiasm and said, “Come with me and let me show you where they want you and Aravir to build that corral of yours.”

     “It is called a Rhawiath,” Legolas informed him, falling into step.

     Strider frowned.  “I do not think I have ever heard that word before.”

     “A Rhawiath is only a small, temporary corral especially when compared to the Belegad, the Great Corral, which we built near the palace in Lasgalen.    Gerrith has said the herd might be fairly large.  A Rhawiath will hold them comfortably until the ones not chosen are freed,” he explained patiently.

     Under the fascinated gazes of the men Aravir and Legolas worked quickly, using branches and vines gathered in the forest and putting together a large enclosure using a nearby cul-de-sac.  Now all that remained was to wait for word from the scouts.

~~~~~*~~~~~

     Several days passed with no news.  Late on the evening of the third day, Legolas took his bedding from his tent and moved to the very edge of the camp close to the forest.

     There, he built a small fire and sat staring into the flames, lost in thought.  He had noticed a growing need within himself for quiet and solitude and it troubled him.  In truth, the sea-song again weighed on his mind with ever-increasing strength and after a long day of mingling with men he needed some time to order his thoughts and focus his control.  He did not think another attack would come so soon, but he could not be sure.

     He turned his thoughts to Arod and his uneasiness lessened as the sea’s called quieted.  He had ridden the silver-white gelding for the first time since his injury early that morning.  They had explored the surrounding land between the campsite and the forest, testing the newly healed leg while carrying the burden of a rider once more.

     Legolas smiled.  Arod had trotted slowly and obediently although he shook his mane often and impatiently.  The leg had held strong, to the elation of both elf and horse.

     He unwrapped a cloth he had been holding and lifted a generous slice of fresh bread he had filched from the cook’s tent to his nose, sniffing appreciatively.  There was much to recommend in camping only a day removed from the settlement Gerrith called home.

     Strong white teeth tore off a piece of the warm crusty slice and chewed slowly.  Slate blue eyes closed as he savored the yeasty bread, smeared liberally with fresh butter and honey.  Legolas nearly groaned with delight.

     “What is this?”  An amused voice interrupted his reverie.  “A gluttonous elf?”

     Legolas opened one eye and looked up at a grinning Eomer.  “Get your own bread, mellon nin,” he said and closed his eye again.

     Eomer chuckled and sat down beside the elf.

     “A rider just checked in,” he informed Legolas.  “The scouts have been following a promising herd for almost a week now and are driving them towards us.  The stallion, however, is clever and experienced so their progress has been slow.  We will ride out to meet them in the morning and look them over.  Perhaps you will see one that meets with your approval.”

     Legolas took another bite of the bread and chewed slowly.  “Perhaps,” he conceded. 

     Eomer touched the elf’s shoulder.  “Legolas, I know you hate replacing Arod, but he will remain with you…and I know you will find a new horse that touches your heart again, as well.”  He studied the silent elf who had returned to eating the bread and staring at the fire.

     Suddenly remembering an earlier conversation, Eomer asked, “Have you reached a decision about the black?”

     Legolas swallowed and looked at Eomer thoughtfully.  “Yes,” he nodded.  “Under different circumstances I might be tempted to take him, but his heart is already given to another, Eomer.”

     The King started.  “What?  Who?”

     Legolas smiled.  “Your son, lord King.”

     “Elfwine?”  Eomer asked.  “When did this happen?”

     Legolas chuckled, thinking of the King’s fair-haired, blue-eyed boy.  “I should think when Storm was foaled.  Elfwine was…what?  Four or five then?  He informed me he has loved that horse  ‘forever’, I believe were his words.”

     Legolas shook his head at Eomer’s obviously surprised expression. 

     “Why are you so surprised?” he asked.  “Look at your son’s heritage…grandson of the Horse Lord, Eomund and also of Imrahil of Dol Amroth, a descendant of the Firstborn.  Think you horses would not play a large part in Elfwine’s life, occupy his thoughts, and capture his heart?”

     “Of course I knew the boy loved horses and he has been trained to ride and care for them since he was very small, but he has never spoken a word of this to me,” Eomer replied, rather disappointed at his son’s failure to approach him.

     The elf looked at Eomer, his eyes bright with understanding, and said, “That horse is fit for a King, my lord.  I am sure the boy thought himself somehow unworthy of such an animal.  He may be rather young, but he is of a size to handle a larger, more spirited horse.  Besides, Storm will cooperate, too, because he loves the boy.  Elfwine should learn now…from you, Eomer.  Teach him, teach them both…they should be together.”

     Legolas took the last bite of bread and watched Eomer closely.

     The King of Rohan sat for a time, lost in thought.  Dark eyes lifted to meet gray, and Eomer shook his head, his face alight with loving exasperation.  Slapping his hands on his knees purposefully, he rose quickly. 

     “Why am I always the last to know these things?  I will speak to him now and we will make some arrangements with Ranalf for that training to start once we return to Edoras.”

      “Excuse me, my friend,” he said, as he turned to go.  “And Legolas…” Their eyes met.  “Thank you.”

     As he was striding away, he called back over his shoulder.  “Do not forget --- be ready early tomorrow morning!”

     Legolas pulled an irreverent face at the back of the King and rose gracefully.  After banking the fire, he took his blanket and moved away to the darker fringes of the camp nearest the tree line.

     Spreading the cover on the ground he lay down, his arms crossed behind his head, looking up at the brilliant stars above and considering the ways of fathers and sons.

     He sang softly to himself as the wind sighed through the trees and the trees whispered back in appreciation of his song, adding their own voices to the melody.

     When sleep claimed him, his dreams led him down the shady paths of Eryn Lasgalen, his father’s strong hand resting on his shoulder and his beautiful voice blending in song with his son’s. 

     For a time, peace reigned in the Prince’s heart.

~~~~~*~~~~~

     At dawn the next morning Legolas, Strider, and Eomer, accompanied by Gerrith and Aravir, rode out to intercept the riders and the herd they had captured.

     On top of one of the hills overlooking the surrounding plain, Legolas suddenly stopped them.  They sat looking across the vast grassland.

     “Why are we stopping?” Gerrith asked.

     Aravir pointed.  “They come,” he answered simply.

     Strider looked at Legolas who was gazing across the land with those far-seeing eyes of his. 

     “About five leagues away still,” the elf murmured.  “Eight riders escorting a herd of twenty horses.”  He caught his breath as a flash of gold drew his eyes and felt a thrill of excitement.

     It cannot be!  Then again, perhaps it is.  Maybe the Valar know it will take an exceptional horse to follow Arod.

     Legolas shook himself slightly, took a firm hold of his excitement and said to the others, “Come.  We will help bring the horses into camp.  The Rhawiath will be large enough to hold them all until choices can be made and the remaining ones released.”

     He urged the black stallion forward and when they reached the base of the hill, loosed him.  The black gave a leap and thundered across the plain in great, ground-eating strides with Aravir following closely behind. 

     The men looked at each other and let go loud exuberant yells of delight as they set their own horses free to follow the racing elves.

     Legolas crouched low over the neck of the flying Storm, urging him on with soft elvish words while steadying him with sure hands.  As the circle of riders attending the herd approached him, Legolas began to slow the stallion, all the while watching the leader of the group.

     The lithe, golden-haired man lifted his hand in greeting and motioned Legolas to join the left side of the loose circle guiding the herd.  As each newcomer approached, he greeted and directed them to a place in the circle.  The galloping horses continued their steady progress towards the camp, still some leagues distant.

     Once he had settled into place, Legolas looked over the horses with an appreciative eye, noting the magnificent blood bay stallion who led and the older, wiser gray mare who actually kept order in the herd’s movement.

     He marveled as he watched her drift through the group, a subtle mist moving where it would.  Legolas knew the old mare’s intention was to keep the others together and prepared for flight if the chance should present itself.

     He looked across at Eomer who was running a practiced eye over the horses as well.   Eomer caught his eye and smiled openly, clearly in his element, waving a hand at his friend.

     Legolas continued to tally the herd, counting five mares with foals staying close to their sides and the younger horses – yearlings and the two and three-year-olds, clearly chafing at the boundaries enforced by the gray mare and the riders.  His heart and eyes absorbed the shifting colors – bays accented with black, several dark grays, one the color of mist, a dun the color of old ivory, two ebony, and other assorted shades of brown, sorrel, chestnut, and mahogany…along with one the color of new gold.

     That horse, a young mare perhaps three years old or so, had a gleaming coat the shade of the summer sun with a flowing mane and tail the color of water under moonlight.  Legolas could hardly take his eyes from the fiery, spirited mare as she moved with the others.

     She has not the presence or size of the Sun Stallion…he was the strong gold of the mountain while she is the fluid gold light reflected in rippling water…and yet…

     He watched the mare nip at the shoulder of a young colt that had bumped her.  He moved out of her way immediately and Legolas’ smile widened with admiration.

     Such spirit and grace!   Even at her young age she already commands respect from the others.

     Eomer, looking at Legolas riding across from him, saw the elf’s eyes locked on the mare.  A quick examination of the horse had him smiling with approval.

     Oh yes, my friend, that horse is truly fit for a Prince!

  ~~~~~*~~~~~

     Back at the camp, Gimli heard the rolling thunder of many hooves long before the herd topped the hill and came into sight.  So did Elfwine and the others.  Gimli watched in amusement as they scurried about the camp like a disturbed nest of demented ants, preparing for the coming herd.  Several ran for the Rhawiath, while the rest made a mad dash for their own mounts and prepared to ride out and help.

     Suddenly realizing his short stature would prohibit his view of the unfolding event, the dwarf ran to a nearby outcropping of rock and climbed to the top.  As the herd neared, his eager eyes located the horses and the riders driving them.  He immediately found the elf…no one sat a horse quite like Legolas; besides, with that flowing golden hair and the black monster he rode ‘twas nigh impossible to miss him!

     In the center of the circle of riders, he saw a gleaming mass of horseflesh in colors shading from palest misty-gray to ebony, and every earth tone in between.  He watched the riders deftly turn the herd towards the cul-de-sac, the other Rohirrim mounted and helping funnel the horses into the Rhawiath.  The “gate” closed and the laughing, shouting men slipped off their own horses and began gathering at the fence to look over the new arrivals.

     Gimli snorted disdainfully.  A fine sight indeed.  All those bright shining colors make me homesick for Aglarond.  Give me the sparkle of fine crystal or cool marble over a wild, dusty beast any day, no matter how prettily colored!

     Still,a reluctant grin surfaced as he noticed Legolas’ attention fixed on a horse that looked to have been dipped in morning sunlight.  He wondered if this was the elf’s choice and climbed down from the rock to make his way to his friend’s side.

     Legolas leaned on the fence, slightly apart from the rest, eyes watching the golden mare’s continuous graceful movements in the corral.  He felt Gimli’s presence at his side and looked down into the dwarf’s dark eyes.

     “Well, lad, is that bright jewel the one you have chosen?” he indicated the mare with a jerk of his head.

     “Yes,” Legolas said.

     “It is a she!” the dwarf noted pointedly.

     “Yes,” Legolas agreed.

     “Females – bah!” Gimli growled.  “Nothing but trouble --- the lot of them!”

     Legolas grinned, but kept gazing at the mare.  “Probably.”

     Gimli stared up at the tall elf, then hrrumphed loudly.  He watched the mare pirouette like a dancer, rearing slightly.

     “Do not expect me to get on her until you teach her some manners, lad,” the dwarf grumped, and turned away, muttering under his breath about stubborn, ill-mannered horses and the elves who deserved them.

     Legolas’ laughing eyes followed the short, stomping figure as it returned to camp.  Strider and Eomer walked up and stood beside him watching Gimli’s retreat, their amused grins growing by the second.

     Legolas looked at the two beside him.  “He does not approve of my choice,” he stated, pointing to the mare.

     The two men nodded, smiling openly now.

     “She is a girl,” Legolas added.

     The two looked at each other and back at Legolas.  Eomer smothered a chuckle.

     Legolas looked at them innocently.  “I do not think he believes I can handle her.”

     The men choked…looked at each other again…open laughter threatened now, just below the surface.

     Legolas glared at them, an affronted expression on his fair face.  “I am quite capable when it comes to females,” he said, most seriously.

     Eomer and Strider began snickering uncontrollably.

     Legolas smiled at them both, shaking his head as one might when confronted with the antics of small children.  “You have no faith in my abilities…neither you nor Gimli,” he said sorrowfully.  He returned his gaze to the prancing mare.

     “At least she will learn to appreciate me,” he said loftily.

     Eomer and Strider did collapse then, roaring with laughter.  Legolas ignored them, his smile even brighter than before, and more than satisfied.  It was not often that a mere Prince could reduce not one King, but two, to puddles of laughter.  Yes, it had been a good day and the next days promised to be even better.

Translations:

mellon nin - my friend

Daro! - halt

suilad - greetings (hello)

aran brannon - lord king

Arod nin - my Arod

havodad - sit down

mae govannen - well met

Ennor (Sind.) - Middle-earth

Eryn Lasgalen (Sind.) - The Wood of Greenleaves (previously Mirkwood)