Title:  THE GOLDEN BELL OF GREENLEAF

Author:  lwarren

Summary:  Legolas and his friends head for home…sort of.

Disclaimer:  The characters and places of Middle-earth belong to Professor JRR Tolkien.

Reviews:  Please!  I treasure each and every one!

A/N: There were a couple of places in this chapter that took on lives of their own…tales that grew in the telling, as it were.   I tried to delete parts to shorten things up, I really did…but the Ranger kept saying in one ear, “Post it!” and the Elf kept whispering in the other, “You know you want to!”  -  so, I did!  Please forgive me for this self-indulgence. 

*Characters’ thoughts will appear in italics.

Chapter 11: The Long Road Home

          As Legolas rode beside his companions toward the Great West Road, he breathed deeply of the fresh morning air and repressed a sudden urge to shout.  I have been too long in a city of men.  By the Valar, I am positively giddy with relief when I finally leave. 

          A brief early autumn shower had fallen in the night, washing the world clean.  The horses tossed their manes, the crisp beauty of the morning making even the highly trained war-horses of Gondor playful.  Legolas smiled slightly at their antics.  Given half the chance – and the power of speech – I think the horses would shout, too!  He made a half-hearted effort to calm the mare, but then she skittered sideways to avoid the shadow of a passing cloud, bumping Aravir’s mount in the process. 

          Noticing Aravir’s long-suffering expression, he sighed.  “This one may have to run for a time, Estel," he said.  "She is full of herself this morning.”  And so am I.

          Aragorn laughed in agreement, “I think I speak for the rest of us in saying we are all having the same problem, and I do not necessarily mean the horses.  We will let them run then and get rid of some of that energy.” 

          His sharp eyes surveyed the path before them.  He looked at his companions challengingly.  “We have a fair distance before we reach the Great Road.  What say you, Jarrod?  Aravir?  A race?  And the losers must set up camp and cook tonight!” 

          The man and elf nodded and Aragorn looked at Legolas.  “Is that agreeable, Legolas?” 

          Legolas smiled wolfishly at his friend.  He had wanted to see Aragorn’s new gray run for some time.  Elladan had given his foster brother the horse almost a year ago, boasting at the time that this was one of the best young stallions Imladris had bred in decades and Estel was forever singing the praises of the big brute.  “More than agreeable, Estel.  Oh…and by the way, I have a longing for fresh roasted quail tonight, mellon nin.” 

         “I trust you will be able to locate some and bring them down, my friend.  I shall enjoy them immensely,” Aragorn replied pompously.

          Legolas snorted, smothering a laugh as the four brought their mounts into a relatively controlled canter side by side.  Motioning to a rocky outcropping about a league away, Aragorn asked, “Is that a sufficient distance?” 

          A chorus of ayes came from each side of him and the finish line was set.  “On my signal!”  Aragorn called, his hand raised. 

          “Now!”  The King’s hand fell and the four loosed their horses simultaneously. 

          Legolas leaned over the mare’s neck, clinging like a tenacious golden burr and gave her her head.  She reached her full stride quickly and the ground became a blur as they flew across the plain towards the distant rocks.  Legolas had never ridden her at a flat-out gallop before and his heart thrilled at the sheer beauty and speed of it all.  He urged her on and although the stallions were larger, stronger, and more experienced, she kept pace with them handily. 

          Halfway to the finish, her nose remained even with Aragorn’s knee as Jarrod’s black fell a half-length behind.  Aravir and his big bay raced neck and neck with Aragorn’s gray on the other side.  Legolas leaned even closer and spoke to the mare once more.  He felt her gather her strength for a last great surge of speed.  She inched up to the gray stallion’s neck, then came even with his nose.  For a space of heartbeats the two ran step for step until, with one final burst of power, she pushed her head in front as they thundered past the rocks. 

          Legolas threw up both arms, shouting their victory to the skies as he brought the mare around in a sweeping circle and let her slow of her own accord.   

          You did it, my lady!  You defeated those proud overbearing great beasts!  Well done, mir nin!  Oh, well done indeed! 

          The mare arched her neck proudly as Legolas turned her back towards the others.  They had reined in their stallions and watched with admiration as the elf rode back to join them.  Arod had followed the race in their wake and waited now beside Aravir. 

          Aragorn met Legolas part of the way, exclaiming, “She is wonderful, Legolas!  What speed!  Once she gave that last big push forward, we were lost.” 

          Aravir and Jarrod agreed, smiling at the exultant look on Legolas’ face.  “Well done, my lord,” Aravir congratulated his friend.  “Quail, did you say?  Will we be able to find any?” 

          Jarrod grinned.  “They are quite prolific here on the plain.  Our only problem will be flushing them out of the tall grass.”  

          “You flush, Jarrod,” Aravir said helpfully.  “I will shoot.” 

          The two rode ahead slowly, arguing over the best way to bring in enough birds to feed everyone.  Aragorn grinned at Legolas as the elf continued patting first the mare’s neck and then Arod’s as he came up beside them.

          Did you see her, Arod?  Was she not magnificent, mellon nin?  Suddenly Legolas felt his heart clench in dismay.  His elation faded quickly as memories of other flying gallops on a strong silver back flooded his mind.  Ai, Arod!  Would that you could have been with us!    I do not like this, my friend.  I do not like this feeling at all!

          The mare stood very still to allow Arod to move closer to her rider.  The big horse snorted softly and nudged the elf gently as elven fingers combed his mane and stroked his neck.  She flew with the wind.  And you are wrong – I was there.  My heart flew with you both.

          Legolas straightened, struggling to conceal his distress.  He looked at Aragorn who was watching him closely, a sympathetic look on his face.  The elf gave one final pat on the neck to both horses and joined the patiently waiting man.  Giving Aragorn a twisted grin and wordless shake of his head, he brought the mare alongside and they followed Aravir and Jarrod.

          A short time later, they reached the Great West Road and continued at a leisurely pace throughout the remainder of that first day, stopping to rest the horses from time to time.  Aravir and Jarrod left them during the afternoon and returned a few hours later with several braces of fat quail and three rabbits. 

          At sunset Jarrod led them to a small stand of trees well away from the notice of any late travelers.  The men quickly made a rough camp, building a fire and tethering the horses nearby.  Aravir and Jarrod prepared the meal, which the King of Gondor served with suitable ceremony to the victor.  Legolas ate his fill of the quail, as well as the fresh bread, cheese and fruit sent compliments of Lothiriel’s kitchen.  The normally quiet elf found the unusual experience of “lording it over” the others surprisingly enjoyable, and took every opportunity to exploit the situation.

          “Aravir, some more cheese, if you will.  And this time if you would slice it very thin…”

          “I believe I would like an apple for dessert.  Peel that for me, Aragorn…and be sure and have Jarrod remove the core.”

          By the end of the meal, Aragorn was loudly considering different ways to tie and gag the Prince, assured by the others that they would gladly help.  Legolas grinned shamelessly and reminded them that surely they did not wish to be cast in that lowest of categories – the one reserved for poor losers.  It was fortunate the meal ended when it did. 

          There was some talk afterwards concerning the ground Aragorn wanted to cover the next day. Watches for the night were set and quiet fell over the little camp as everyone settled down to rest.  Legolas had drawn the second watch and lay in his blankets looking at the star-studded sky. 

          He had been toying with an idea in the back of his mind since before the return to Edoras, turning it over and under and upside down as it developed and took shape.   As the peaceful darkness enveloped him, he decided now was the time to examine it more closely. 

          Since his experience in the Undying Lands he had become more and more certain that one last journey was essential if he was to fully understand his part in the Great Song while he remained on these shores.  However, he knew he would not be able to just leave.  At the very least, he must speak to Estel about his dream.  He had been waiting for the right time to tell him and it seemed the “right time” would have to come in the next few days.  Even with the explanation, Legolas knew that Aragorn would not react well to news of his new destination.  And neither would Aravir, for that matter. 

          He sighed heavily.  He really would not blame them if they tackled him after his first words, tied him hand and foot and took him to Minas Tirith to stay until he had regained some semblance of sanity.  Had he found himself in their place, he knew HE would not hesitate to do the same thing.  Still, this was necessary.  He felt it deep within his heart and could not allow even his best friend to dissuade him. 

          The question plaguing him was WHEN – when would they be able to talk?   And would talking to Aragorn guarantee understanding?  By the time they were mounted and on the Road again the next morning, he still had not decided when to broach the subject with his friend.

                                           ~~~~*~~~~

          They had determined early on not to travel with any of the numerous caravans that frequented the Great Road as Aragorn wished to remain anonymous and the sight of elves often caused its own unique problems.  Alone, they were able to move at a steady pace, again stopping only to rest and refresh themselves and the horses.  Legolas found that a good hard gallop in their first hour of travel put the mare in a more pliable mood for the rest of the day and it became a ritual for them.  Once evening fell, Jarrod would lead them off-road to camp in the safe places he had located.

          By the middle of the third day, they reached the section of the Road close to the foot of the White Mountains that marked a portion of the border between Gondor and Rohan.  They left behind the Eastfold of Rohan for the open territory of Anorien.  Legolas and Aravir, bored with the endless sameness of the land, raced to scout out the road ahead.  They had not ridden two leagues when the heady scent and song of a distant forest reached them.

          “How far do you think, Aravir?” Legolas asked as the two sat still, their senses stretched to the utmost.

          Aravir shook his head.  “Too many hills to actually see, my lord, and the song is very soft.” 

          Legolas nodded…the song WAS soft – a gentle thread of music wafting on the wind just within the range of their hearing. 

          He closed his eyes.  “Five leagues perhaps…no more than seven,” he stated as the wind brought another fresh breath of green leaves and the faint whisper of tree song to them.  Aravir nodded.          

          “Thank the Valar,” Aravir said gratefully.  “Do you think perhaps the men can be hurried along, my lord?” 

          Legolas laughed, totally in accord with his friend’s eagerness.  “We will tell them where we are going and they can follow us at their leisure, my friend.”  He wheeled the mare around and they hurried back to tell the others what they had discovered.

          After hearing Legolas’ report, Aragorn looked at Jarrod.  “Firien, is it not?” 

          His captain nodded and said,  “Yes, sire.  We are approaching Firien Wood.  We will also be able to see the Halifirien, perhaps by tomorrow.” 

          Aragorn smiled in anticipation and the pace of the horses increased noticeably after that.  As King of Gondor, Aragorn had a vested interest in the great beacons and wished to see again the northern-most beacon hill of Gondor.  The elves –well, their goal lay in the comfort and familiarity of the trees.

                                           ~~~~*~~~~

          After an hour or so, the little group entered the hardwood forest, passing from the glaring brightness of mid-day into a sheltered, shadowed place.  The woods were old and well established, with branches interlacing above from both sides of the Road to form a living canopy that allowed filtered sunlight to dapple the forest floor. 

          The hint of frost in the air the past weeks had already painted many of the leaves a fiery red and gold.  While marveling at the rich colors, Legolas began to notice an undercurrent running through the trees.  He alerted Aravir and they both began listening intently to the forest’s song. 

          It was an exceedingly strange song…as if the trees hummed softly in their sleep.  Or spoke some strange story in a language that he and Aravir did not know.  Past the clip clopping of their horses’ hooves, they could hear a low pleasant sound reminiscent of a breeze sighing its way through the branches, ruffling many leaves as it passed.  Looking up, Legolas was fascinated to note the absence of any wind.

          “I have heard that this wood has all manner of interesting stories connected to it,” Aragorn told them.  He watched the elves for a moment.  “And I must confess no matter how often I travel through it, it never fails to capture my imagination.  Can you hear it?” 

          Legolas nodded.  “Yes, it is the trees.  They are whispering.”  

          “That is part of the legend assigned to this forest, my lord,” Jarrod explained.  “And that is why it is called the ‘Whispering Wood’.”

         “Whispering Wood,” Legolas savored the name of the forest.  “I too have traveled through this wood more than once, but always at a speed that prohibited any close study.”  He and Aravir exchanged a look.  They planned to remedy that soon. 

          Aragorn finally relented to the excitement gleaming in their eyes, laughing, “We will take some rest in one of the way stations built along the way.  You may interrogate the trees to your heart’s content while Jarrod and I eat and rest.  Is that acceptable?” 

          Both elves agreed immediately as the King looked at his captain.  Jarrod thought for a minute before responding.  “There is one station in particular called Oak Grove that is built near the Glinhir River, my lord.  It is owned by two brothers and is well-known for its hospitality…not to mention the excellent food.”  He smiled. 

          Aragorn nodded.  “Then we will take our noon meal there and rest.  Lead the way, Jarrod, if you please.” 

          He looked back at the two elves who had stopped, apparently to commune with one particularly large elm growing by the road.  Shaking his head, Aragorn grinned at Jarrod.  “First, though, I suppose we should gather up our elves before we lose them entirely!”

                                         ~~~~*~~~~

          The Road meandered through the forest for a time before crossing a swiftly flowing stream.  “Even after summer’s heat the Glinhir flows swiftly,” Jarrod commented as they forded at a shallow point.  “Cold, too, and I’ll wager much deeper in places.  It empties into the Entwash further on.  I believe it is spring fed, my lord, and has its source somewhere on this side of the mountains.” 

          Legolas crossed slowly, relishing the cold droplets splashed upon his face and the exuberant fluid music of the water.  He would not have thought the slow mystery of the forest would find harmony with this energetic little river, but it did and the resulting melody was exhilarating!

          A short distance past the stream, Jarrod turned onto a well-worn path leading away from the main Road.  They rode perhaps a league before they entered the way station’s large, well-tended yard.  Beyond the buildings, behind a line of old oak trees they could hear again the rushing waters of the Glinhir.

          A tall, dark-haired boy several years older than Elfwine walked out of a large structure built further from the road, shading his eyes to see the new arrivals.  He hung the bridle he was carrying on a hook by the door and ran to where Jarrod and the others had stopped.  “Welcome to Oak Grove, sirs.  How can I help ye?” he asked politely.

          Jarrod smiled at him and answered, “We’d just like a cool, shady place to eat and rest for a time, young man.  We won’t be staying the night.”

          “Take yer water there for the horses, lessen’ ya want to use the trough by the barn,” he pointed to the building he had just come from.  “And the trees yonder by the stream are nice and cool to rest under,” he suggested.  Jarrod thanked him, flipping a silver coin to the lad who caught it deftly and thanked him with a big grin before trotting off to the other large building in front of the barn.

          They rode over to the trees lining the stream and chose a grassy area where they could eat and rest for a while.  Legolas and Aravir cooled their horses, releasing them to join Arod grazing on the lush grass growing by the stream.  Then they helped Aragorn and Jarrod remove the tack from their stallions, walking the big animals before tethering them close to the others. 

          Once those chores had been seen to, they sat in the shade enjoying the cool afternoon breeze and eating the food Aravir had pulled from several of the packs he and Jarrod carried.  The breeze died down and the men leaned back against the trees for a quick nap.

          Legolas and Aravir climbed two of the ancient oaks to listen more closely to the forest, finding comfortable perches on huge limbs.  Legolas closed his eyes, lost in the soft, strangely compelling voices of the old trees. 

          Sometime later he became aware of the sensation of being watched.  His eyes focused on Aravir in the tree next to his.  Aravir pointed to the ground at the small figure of a little girl standing about ten feet away from the dozing men, staring UP at Legolas.  She was a tiny thing, with long curling dark hair and solemn dark eyes that were examining him quite thoroughly. 

          The two elves exchanged smiles and dropped silently to the ground.  The child started a little but did not move, still staring intently at Legolas.  Legolas sank to the ground and motioned Aravir to sit also.  Then they waited.  She finally moved forward very slowly until she was standing close, almost touching Legolas’ shoulder.

          “Hello, little mouse,” he spoke quietly, kindly.  “Are you lost?”

          A finger found its way into her mouth and she shook her head no.

          “Where are you parents?”

          The finger left her mouth long enough to point to the building.

          “I see,” the elf murmured and waited, aware that Aragorn and Jarrod had awakened and were watching, bemused grins on their faces.

          The little girl pointed to her ear.  Legolas understood immediately her question and turned his head to the side so she could see his own ear clearly.  Deep brown eyes widened slightly and she slowly inched forward until she stood leaning on his shoulder, her fascinated gaze fixed on his ear.

          “What?” she whispered, touching the leaf shaped ear with a very, very gentle finger.

          Legolas turned slightly and smiled.  “Elf,” he whispered back. 

          Her eyes widened even further, smiling as a delighted “oh” of recognition breathed past her lips.  Then the child’s fingers brushed the warrior’s braid above his ear and moved to touch his smooth cheek tentatively.

          “Pretty,” she whispered and turning abruptly, she skipped back to the building and disappeared inside.

          Legolas followed her progress, a chuckle threatening to slip past his lips, when he heard a snicker from behind and someone tugged on his braid.

          “Ooooo, pretty Legolas!” a familiar voice caroled in his ear and he jumped to his feet, glaring down at a laughing Estel.  Scooping up the waterskin at his feet, he smiled at his friend, the light of retribution darkening his eyes to a deep slate blue. 

          “Allow me, beleg brannon,” he said helpfully, taking a step towards the King who instantly began to scramble backwards, one hand raised to ward the elf off.

          “Now, Legolas…” the man pleaded, his voice choked with amusement, “it is not as if you have never heard that before!”  The others were laughing now and Legolas had just opened the skin, preparing to douse his insolent friend when they heard the door to the station open again and the little girl stepped out, leading a tall, dark-haired man by the hand towards them.

          Legolas shot a “later-for-you” glare at Aragorn and they all stood to watch the man and child approach.  The man stopped short, shocked eyes taking in the reality of the two elves and the two men taking their rest under his trees…though one of the elves had appeared to be in the midst of an attack on one of the men.

          “By the Powers, I don’t believe it!” his voice shook slightly, his eyes widening with recognition as he looked at the visitors.  He stooped to pick up the little girl who whispered in his ear and then leaned back, grinning at him.   He looked at his child, his shock softening to a smile as two small hands framed his face and a little voice said, “See, da?  Elf!”

          “Yes, sweeting, I see the elf – er, elves!  But look, Anna, there are two!”  The child stared for a moment at Aravir before clapping her hands with delight, her laughter gleeful and infectious.

          The man set Anna on the ground with a quick whisper that sent her scurrying towards the house.  He then bowed to his visitors.  “Welcome, my lords.  I am Brandel.  My brother Maelthor and I own this place.  Ye have already met my daughter, Anna, and my eldest, Aldon.”

          Aragorn stepped forward.  “Well met, Brandel.  We appreciate your hospitality.”  His three companions bowed in turn, murmuring their own words of greeting.  Aragorn continued, “But please, we are not lords…”

          Brandel snorted.  His own eyes, as intensely blue as his daughter’s were dark, were full of amusement.  He studied Aragorn’s face. 

          “I was sixteen when my father took me to the White City for the marriage of our new King to his lady.  We wasn’t able to be at the top level to see the ceremony, but we had prime places to see all the long lines of lords and ladies arrivin' during the week – and the last day o’ the King himself and his Lady after the ceremony when they came down into the city to see all the folk what waited for the sight o' the bride and groom.” 

          Legolas and Aragorn exchanged rueful glances.  Brandel saw this and his smile grew.  He spoke again, his voice deep and respectful, almost reverent.  “I ne’er forgot, ya know.  And the elves!  Ne’er in my life had I seen anythin’ so beautiful and grand as the Lady Arwen and her father …and you, my lord,” he nodded at Legolas, who bowed his head in acknowledgment.  “…’cept maybe the day I took Mirielle to wife or when I first saw my babes,” the man concluded thoughtfully.

          He cleared his throat and spoke again in a matter of fact manner, “Now I kinda figure ya won’t take any special treatment from us…” Aragorn nodded at this.  “…But if ye will allow it, my wife and I would be honored to fill your water skins and give ye some food for the road when ye leave.”

          Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, but Brandel interrupted.  “My Lord King, all this ‘round here that you see,” his hand waved to include the station and its surroundings, “would never have come to be but for the peace we’ve had these past years.  The way I figure it, after the lord Frodo, it’s ye we have to thank the most and I’d regret it forever if ye didn’t allow us to do it right.”

          Aragorn looked at the big man for a long moment.  “Then we gladly accept your thanks and your gifts, Brandel.  Gladly.” 

          Brandel bowed to his King.  “Thank ye, my lord.”  He raised his head and cleared his throat before asking,  “Are ye certain I cannot get anythin’ for ye?  Some ale, perhaps?  Or fresh fruit?” 

          “Only on the condition that you and your family join us, my friend,” Aragorn replied with a warm smile. 

          “That can be arranged, my lord.  Ne’er think ye would get away from here without meetin’ my Miri!  I’ll just be getting’ them, then!”

          Brandel turned and walked back to the station house, his strides lengthening until he was almost running.  They could hear him call, “Miri!  Get that food together, my girl!  Ye’ll ne’er guess who it was our Anna saw!”  The door slammed shut with a crash behind him.  The four looked at each other before bursting into laughter. 

          “What an agreeable surprise this is!” Legolas said, looking at Aragorn’s pleased expression.  “You do not often get the chance to visit with your subjects alone, do you, my friend?” 

          “Not nearly often enough,” Aragorn replied, as he settled on the ground again against the tree.  The others sat back down beside him.  “But admit the truth now, Legolas.  The reason you think this is all so pleasant is because Anna thinks you are pretty!” 

          Legolas dove for the water skin, but Elessar, the High King of Gondor was up and running, laughing like a loon as he disappeared into the trees. 

          “You may run now, Estel!” Legolas yelled at the trees.  “But you always pay for your careless words to me, my friend.  And payment is always expensive!” 

          About that time, the door to the station opened again and a slender, dark haired young woman stepped out carrying a large covered tray.  Behind her came her son, carrying a large pitcher and several large mugs.  Anna tripped along behind her brother, her tiny hands grasping another of the large mugs carefully.  Brandel came last with another loaded tray.

          “Valar, Legolas!” Aravir said, tugging on the Prince’s tunic.  “Sit down!  Jarrod, find the King!”  Jarrod jumped up and ran towards where Aragorn had last been seen.

          Legolas sat down reluctantly, muttering under his breath in Sindarin.  Aravir looked at him, his eyebrows raised.  “Nin khaun!” he whispered warningly.  

         The prince subsided, though still stewing quietly as they watched the little family procession approach.  Jarrod returned with his King in tow.  They sat down beside the elves, though Aragorn made sure Jarrod and Aravir were between him and the smoldering Prince. 

          “Here we are, my lords!” Brandel announced, his eyes brimming with laughter at the elf’s scowl and the King’s studiously innocent expression.  He rather thought that the attack he had interrupted before might continue and apparently it had. 

          The trays found a place on the ground nearby and Brandel introduced Mirielle to the King and his party.  She dipped a shy curtsey and set about graciously distributing freshly baked bread, cheese, a fruit tart, and ale to her guests.  Anna brought her big mug straight to Legolas and climbed into his lap.  The irritated expression on his fair face faded as the little one handed the mug to him, and vanished entirely at her smile.  Aragorn nudged Jarrod in the ribs, nodded at Legolas’ quick mood change and winked at his grinning captain.

          “Anna!” her mother gasped. 

          “No, my lady, leave her if you do not mind…she is certainly no trouble,” Legolas said and Mirielle, seeing the sincerity in the elf’s blue gray eyes, returned to serving her guests. 

          They spent a pleasant afternoon talking and eating with the little family. Brandel spoke of the success of the station; of his older brother and his family; and later told them the tale of Folcar, the Rohirrim King who had once pursued the great Boar of Everholt through the wood.  Anna fell asleep curled in the lap of her elf and after some encouragement from Brandel to stay, it was decided they would camp by the stream and take the morning meal with the family before leaving. 

          Legolas gently handed the sleeping child to her mother, saying, “Did you know, my lady, that in the elven tongue, her name means ‘gift’?” 

          Mirielle smiled at him and said softly, “No, my lord, but it seems appropriate somehow.  Aldon is eleven, ya know and we thought we might not be blessed with any more little ones after a time.  But she was surely a gift to us and a surprise at that!”  The woman paused, looking down into the face of her sleeping daughter.  “She’ll remember this day always, my lord.  Same as her da’ has remembered seeing ye and the King long ago.” 

          Legolas smiled at her and said gently, “As I will remember all of you, my lady.”  He thanked her again for the food and went to help Aravir prepare their campsite.  Late that night Legolas returned to the branch of the great oak and sang of whispering trees and little girls with sweet smiles…and the water he was going to throw on Aragorn the first chance he got.

          The next morning Legolas woke just before dawn and slipped through the trees to the branch directly above Aragorn’s blanket covered form.  Once there he promptly emptied a full water skin on the sleeping figure below and fled to the upper branches of another huge tree downstream.  There he perched, singing a soft welcome to Anor and laughing at the roars of “Legolas!” that erupted from time to time from the camp. 

          The sun had been up for an hour when Aravir appeared on his branch.  Legolas looked at him, one eyebrow raised and daring his friend to say one word about anything. 

          Aravir grinned.  “Come, elfling.  Mistress Miri has prepared a wonderful meal and Jarrod has reasoned the King into a somewhat acceptable mood.  Anna is looking for you, as is Arod and the mare.  It is time you returned.” 

          Legolas gave a hrrrrumph worthy of Gimli. “Elfling?”  He stood on the branch and stretched mightily.  “Elfling, Aravir?” 

          Aravir laughed at his Prince.  “What is that Mannish saying, my lord?  Something about boots and the way they fit, I believe…” 

          Legolas interrupted him.  “No, do not say it.  Besides, he deserved it.  He has known me long enough to know better than to call me 'pretty'.  He knows very well how I hate it!  He thought I would not retaliate with Brandel and his family around.  Well, he can think again.  Justice was rightly served…by me.  Come on.” 

          The two elves returned to the campsite and Legolas went to reassure his horses.  Then he and Aragorn spent the meal conspicuously ignoring each other, to the great amusement of all (Brandel had told his wife and son of his suspicions the evening before). 

          But Anna, who had much experience with an argumentative brother, sensed the tension between her two new friends.  Her mother would not let her and A’don fight like this…it wasn’t 'lowed.   And her mother often helped take the mad away after the fight.  Anna knew just what to do, too.  She climbed into Legolas’ lap once more and took his face in her little hands to make him look at her. 

          “Mad?" she asked.  “At him?” She pointed to Aragorn who sat with his back to the elf while he spoke with Brandel. 

          Legolas thought for a moment.  “No, not anymore.” 

          The little girl crawled out of his lap and took his hand.  She tugged hard until he stood up and led him over to Aragorn’s side.  When Aragorn turned to look at her, she put her arm around his neck. 

          “Mad at Leg’es?”   Aragorn heaved a long-suffering sigh and looked up at the elf.  Blue eyes met gray and they grinned rather sheepishly at each other. 

          Aragorn looked back at Anna.  “No, sweetheart, I am not mad at ‘Leg’es’.” 

          Anna tugged Legolas down beside Aragorn.  She looked sternly at them both.  “Good.” 

          She left then to find her mother, leaving behind one baffled elf, a bemused King and a snickering father. 

          “What just happened?” Legolas asked Aragorn. 

          His friend shrugged as Brandel explained, “My lords, ye have just received instruction from a wee girl who’ll one day rule her own family with an iron hand!”  Legolas laughed with others as he watched Anna charm another tart from her mother.

          After breakfast, Legolas took Anna up before him on Arod and rode a short way down the road, singing a Silvan song to her about the mischievous squirrels of a great forest.  He sang it to her three times and showed her where to chirp during the chorus each time that the birds of the forest chased the squirrels.  He returned the giggling child to her father, smiling and saying, “This little mouse needs a pet squirrel, Brandel, to lead her on many adventures!” 

           Brandel tickled his daughter, laughing at her squeals of laughter and replied, “My lord, as ye well know by now, this one is an adventure all by herself!”

          As they prepared to leave, Aragorn thanked Brandel and Mirielle for their kindness.

          “We have never made it a point to stop on the Road through Firien, but I promise you we will now,” he told Brandel.

          “Aye, sire, I hope ye do.  My brother Maelthor and his wife and youngsters are in Minas Tirith as we speak, buyin’ supplies.  Do ye think they’ll be believin’ this story?  No, ‘specially that brother of mine.  Do come back and prove him wrong!” the man explained. 

          Aragorn clapped Brandel on the shoulder, ruffled Aldon’s hair, and kissed a blushing Mirielle’s hand in farewell.   Then he swept Anna up in his arms and blew a great kiss on her cheek, saying, “Goodbye, Anna!  Thank you for making Leg’es and me mind our manners!”  She giggled, hiding her face in his neck and nodded.  Aragorn passed her up for one last kiss from Legolas and mounted his horse.

Once again, Legolas felt the sting of leaving, riding away with the memory of Anna’s arms hugging his neck and a tiny voice whispering, “Come back soon” in his ear.

                                          ~~~~*~~~~

          They continued on their way, leaving the forest behind and once again galloping along the Road through Anorien.  They decided to spend one more night near the Druadan Forest and ride the remaining miles to Minas Tirith the following day. 

          That last night, Legolas waited until Aragorn arose to stand his watch before approaching him for the talk he knew they must have.  He left his blankets and walked over to where his friend was sitting, gazing at the land around him and thoughtfully smoking his pipe.

          “Estel?” he whispered.  Aragorn turned quickly and looked at him. 

          “What is it, Legolas?  What is wrong?” he asked, his hand slipping down to the hilt of his sword. 

          Legolas raised his hand and shook his head.  “Nothing, nothing, my friend.  I just needed to talk to you about something.” 

          Aragorn leaned back again and motioned the elf to sit beside him.  “All right,” he said, inviting Legolas to begin. 

          “It is about the “dream” I had while I was hurt, Estel.  I told you that eventually I would like to tell you about it,” Legolas answered, his voice low and strained. 

          Aragorn straightened at the elf’s words, his attention focused on Legolas’ face in concern.  “Are you certain?” he asked.  “Because if you are not, I would rather you wait.  Do not feel you must talk about it.” 

          Legolas shook his head.  “I wanted you to know.  My plight with the sea-longing and my grief concerning my mortal friends had somehow been brought to Nienna’s attention.  She helped me understand some things, Estel.  She helped me face my fears about what is to come,” he said, the tears he thought already shed threatening again. 

          Aragorn gripped his shoulder and said, “Go on.  I am listening.” 

          “I think the tears you saw me shed while I was unconscious were the same ones I shed as we spoke.  It was so hard, Estel,” he whispered, his voice breaking.  He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.  Aragorn’s grip tightened a little.  “We talked for a long time about you, and Gimli, and the others.  Then I slept while Este sang a song of rest and restoration to me,” he continued.  “Later the next day, Nienna took me to the sea.” 

          Aragorn’s breath caught.  Legolas looked at him, his gray eyes swimming with tears.  “Her mansion lies on a high cliff facing the Encircling Sea.  I saw it, Estel.  The sea – and I heard the song.  Not just the water's song…but the Great Song…all of it.  And that is where I came to understand that I have a part in that song, but I had not been listening.  I thought the music of Ennor was marred, but I was wrong.  When I listen and add my own song to it, it all becomes clear.  We all have our part in the Song, Estel, and we do not have to be in Aman to contribute to it.” 

          Aragorn smiled at Legolas through his own tears.  “That is what you have been singing…that song that changes every night.” 

          Legolas nodded and wiped his eyes.  “Yes, and there is still much I must learn.  Still parts I have not heard yet.  But I will as long as I remain here; I will hear and learn each one.” 

          Estel felt a great sense of relief.  “This helps counter the sea-longing?” 

          Legolas nodded.  “Yes, though the call is still strong, I believe I will learn to live with it.  And I know the sound of Aman’s song now, and it helps…I cannot really explain how the two blend together.  It is a mystery still.” 

          Legolas looked so frustrated and puzzled that Aragorn had to laugh.  “You will eventually solve it.  I know your stubbornness, Thranduilion.” 

          Legolas sighed.  “It is still difficult sometimes, but now it is bearable.”  He looked at Aragorn and covered the hand on his shoulder with his own.  “I wanted you to know.” 

          “Hannon lle, my dear friend.”  Aragorn squeezed his shoulder.  “And I am happy you have found some relief and…even joy?”  He looked at Legolas.  The elf smiled, not at all surprised his friend had perceived that change in him. 

          “Yes, joy.  I never thought to feel it again after I heard the gulls, Estel,” he explained. 

          Aragorn nodded in understanding.  “I saw that lack in you and my heart broke every time.”  He studied the quiet face of his friend for a short time before asking, “Does this forest have its own song, my friend?” 

          Legolas cocked his head, listening.  Then he began to hum a sad, haunting refrain.  The two friends remained there for the rest of the night - one listening…one singing…both rejoicing in and through the music. 

                                          ~~~~*~~~~

          The next day, they traveled to the junction where the road turned towards Ithilien.   Aragorn sent Jarrod on ahead and prepared to attempt to convince Legolas to come into the city and stay for a day or two.   He looked back to see Aravir staring at his lord silently.  This went on for a long moment before both elves dismounted and Aravir lifted a pack from his horse. 

          Aragorn watched the exchange, eyes narrowed and trying to discern exactly what was happening.  Aravir was tight-lipped; Legolas’ face was impassive.  The Prince took the pack and spoke quietly to Aravir in Sindarin.  Aragorn could not hear the words but from the tone, his elven friend was attempting to explain something to his commander.  He sat his horse silently, waiting for the explanation he knew would eventually come.

          Legolas finished giving Aravir his directions and watched the other elf leap upon his stallion again.  He walked over to Arod.

          I must leave now.  Go with Aravir and rest once you reach Ithilien, Arod nin.  And do not worry…I will be fine.

          Arod shook his mane and stamped one hoof impatiently.  The sea has made you ill in the past…and now you seek it out?  We will come for you if you do not return by the time you have promised.  

          Legolas stroked the broad forehead in an effort to comfort the horse.

          “I know you will,” Legolas whispered.  “I would not expect any less from either of you.  Just remember – things are better now.”  He looked up at Aravir.  The Silvan warrior watched him steadily, his deep green gaze disapproving and fearful. 

          “One month, no more,” the Prince promised. 

          Aravir gave a curt nod and calling for Arod, wheeled his stallion around.  He raised his hand in salute to the King and spoke to his horse softly.  The great stallion cantered down the road, Arod beside them.  Legolas watched them leave, his face very still.  Now to face Aragorn.  Springing onto the mare’s back, he turned her towards the King.

          “I am pleased you are coming into the city with us, Legolas,” Aragorn said pleasantly.  “Arwen will be happy to see you hale and healthy.” 

          Legolas gazed at him silently for a long moment.  “I am not going in that direction, Estel.  Perhaps I will be able to stop in and see Arwen and you on my return.” 

          “Your return?” the King questioned.  “Return from where?” 

          “Lebennin,” Legolas answered. 

          Aragorn felt a stab of fear as he replied in a soft, disbelieving voice. “Lebennin?  Please tell me you are not going to the sea, Legolas.” 

          “I will not tell you then.” 

          “By the Valar, have you completely taken leave of your senses?” the King cried.  “You are scarcely a month removed from almost losing your life to orc poison and the sea’s call…and you are going there?”  The soft disbelief now turned to a hard, flat command.  “No.  Absolutely…NO!”

          Legolas looked at his friend sadly – so his revelations of the previous evening had not eased Estel’s fear for him.  His pleasant façade abandoned, the King was well on the way to rage and Legolas knew exactly what fueled his friend’s anger.  He watched Aragorn fight for his composure for a brief moment and lose before he continued, his voice rising along with his fear.  “No.  By Elbereth, Legolas, if I must tie you up and keep you locked in a room until this madness passes, I will.  No, you are NOT going.” 

          “Estel…”  

          But the King did not want to listen to reason or see Legolas’ side of this.  All he could see was his friend unconscious for three days from the sea’s call, Arod standing guard over him.  “No!  Legolas, please…” Aragorn’s voice shook.  Then he hesitated, suddenly changing his argument.  “All right, if you must go, then I will go with you.” 

          “Estel, listen…” 

          “You are not going alone, Legolas.  It is too dangerous.  What if you should suffer another attack?  I will go also…”  

          Legolas brought the mare alongside Aragorn’s horse and placed a strong hand on his friend’s tense shoulder.   “Stop it.  You know you cannot leave again after being gone so long.  Besides, I must do this alone.  I must go there, gwador nin.  Were you not listening last night?  I tried to tell you there are places I must still go to complete what was begun in Aman.” 

         Aragorn froze.  The dream.  Of course.  How could he counter the dream given Legolas by the Valar themselves?  He could not and if Legolas said he needed to do this to complete a part of the healing begun in Aman, then he had to.

        He drew a deep, shaky breath, trying to reconcile himself to the fact that Legolas was indeed going - alone.  Angry gray eyes speared his friend.  “ What did you tell Aravir?  One month?”

          Legolas nodded, tears stinging his eyes at the mixed look of anger, terror and love in the human’s eyes.  “Yes, mellon nin,” he replied.  “If I do not return within that time frame, he and Arod will come for me.”

          Aragorn reached over and grabbed Legolas’ shoulder, squeezing it in affection and warning.  “They will not be the only ones to come for you, Thranduilion.”

          “I know.  Please, Estel, do not fear for me.  It is my belief that the worst attacks are in the past.”  He tightened his grip on Aragorn’s shoulder in return.  “Besides, I know how one feels.  If I should sense it coming, I will find shelter immediately.  I will be fine.”

          Aragorn looked at him, his face stiff with defeat.  “I must accept your word for it then…and I apologize for my outburst.  You did warn me last night, in a rather round about way.  I suppose I do not understand as well as I thought I did.  Knowing how you have suffered in the past…to think of you actually facing the sea…” His voice trailed off into silence, his fear and bewilderment obvious.

          Legolas started to speak, but Aragorn spoke abruptly,  “No, forgive me for my doubts.  Just go.  Take care.  And remember your promise…one month.”

          Legolas’ hand dropped to his side and he looked at Aragorn, his gray-blue eyes pleading for understanding.  “Please try not to worry, my friend.  I will see you in one month…or sooner, if possible.”

          Aragorn nodded slowly.  “See that you do.  You do not want to know what we will do to you if we have to come after you, Legolas.”

         Legolas nodded, a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth.  Aragorn sounded so much like Adar sometimes.  “I will see you then.  Stay well, Estel.”  

          His friend snorted, but managed a grim smile at the elf and waved him on.  He watched silently as Legolas turned the mare around and they galloped down the South Road that led to Lebennin and the sea.

TRANSLATIONS:

mellon nin – my friend

mir nin – my treasure (jewel)

beleg brannon – great King

nin khaun – my prince (Nandorin)

gwador nin – my brother (through friendship, not related by blood)

hannon lle – thank you

adar – father

Arod nin – my Arod

Thranduilion – son of Thranduil

Anor – the sun

Ennor – Middle-earth (Sindarin)

Aman – the Undying Lands