Title: THE GOLDEN BELL OF GREENLEAF

Disclaimer: The world of Middle-earth and its characters belong to

J.R.R. Tolkien.

Summary: At last, a name worthy of the golden mare presents itself!

A/N: Once more, I apologize for the time between postings. The ‘hurrieder’ I go, the ‘behinder’ I get! And again, a very special thank you to the always patient and persistent Alassiel for beta-reading this chapter!

Chapter 18: Fields of Gold

Aravir breathed deeply of the salty sea air, enjoying the way the constant breeze cooled and caressed his face. He cast a sideways glance at Legolas. His Prince appeared lost in thought, eyes fixed on the clear tidal pool before them. Arador had left them an hour before to ponder his remarkable speech concerning the Eldar and their place in Middle-earth.

Legolas suddenly looked at him, his gray eyes reflecting the deep blue of the pool and his considerable confusion. The two bemused elves studied one another for a long moment before Aravir rose lithely to his feet and stretched. He held out a hand to his friend and tugged him up also. The immortals stood for a moment staring out to sea as the huge, fiery orb of Anor began the slow descent that heralded the arrival of evening.

“It is magnificent in its very scope and power,” Aravir murmured. “But I will be relieved to return to the forests of Ithilien and the comfort of the trees.” Deep green eyes studied the restless waves. “I will not come here again.”

Aravir looked at Legolas then and answered the question he saw lurking in the blue-gray depths. “Why continue to aggravate an already troublesome wound?” Turning towards camp, the elven warrior hesitated, his eyes drawn unwillingly back to the sea.

“Still...” he whispered, as a sad, faraway expression cast a shadow across his fair face. “Our memory will vanish…just as Arador fears…”

Legolas laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Nay, Aravir. Perhaps not entirely. There are those who will see that we are remembered. Arador…Erelas, Laurelin and the children…and their children’s children…certainly Aragorn and his kin will see that the elves are not forgotten. It may be true that in a thousand years we exist only in stories and legends…but we will continue to live in the memories of those who care to listen.”

Aravir gave his Prince a doubtful look, earning a playful shove in return.

“Come, mellon nin,” Legolas urged, as he set off down the beach. “Let us return to camp. The evening meal will be ready and I am hungry.”

Aravir could not repress the smile that threatened…let the future Ages of this world wait – the Prince was hungry! Shaking the melancholy off, he followed the bright, sunlit figure. “As always, elfling,” he chuckled softly. “As always.”

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

The two elves passed a pleasant evening in the company of the men and boys, later retiring to the forest to share a tree and the Song before sleep claimed them. Aravir noted with relief that the initial tension caused by the sea’s call continued to ease.

He tilted his head back, green eyes shuttered, listening to Legolas’ golden tenor weave a tender harmony with the trees and the nearby stream. For over a decade, Legolas had borne the unrelenting call of Aman alone…each year of denial more painful than the last. Given what Aravir now knew, he marveled that the Prince had been able to resist at all; the thought of Legolas remaining for the lifetime of Aragorn was sobering.

And now Eru, through Nienna, has given him a way to persevere even longer, for the sake of Elessar! I only hope I may prove as steadfast as he…

It seemed incomprehensible to him that the very thing which tied Legolas to Middle-earth might also prove to be the thing which helped the Prince weather the sea longing. And yet, the Prince’s love for Aragorn had so far proven the stronger. He sighed. Men were so difficult to understand. They lived so much in the present and had so little time; each day a stone in the structure of their lives’ goals and dreams, trusting the next generation to continue what they had begun.

Aravir shook his head slightly. Such heavy thoughts did not encourage sleep and he was tired, worn by the discoveries and pressures of the day and previous night. He settled back, sinking deep into the welcoming embrace of the tree and allowed the gentle music to lull him to sleep.

The next morning, Aravir awoke just as dawn’s light began filtering through the leafy canopy overhead. Feeling much recovered and reinvigorated, he left Legolas still slumbering in the tree and returned to camp.

Stepping lightly around the snoring lumps of sleeping men, he slipped over to Arador’s wagon and found the bread laid out for the morning meal. Cutting a thick slice, he grabbed a handful of berries and, after seating himself near the horses, made a quick meal of his findings.

Brushing crumbs from his leggings and shirt, he stood and greeted the mare and Arod, fondling soft ears and murmuring even softer endearments. At Thalion’s insistent huffs of neglected temper, he left Arod and grabbed a brush one of the men had left near the picket line. He set about grooming the impatient horse, chiding him for his jealous nature, brushing the stallion’s coat until it shone a golden-red fire in the early morning light. The sounds of men awakening reached his ears just as he worked a stubborn tangle from the heavy mane.

“I believe it is time we left this place for some exercise,” he whispered in Thalion’s ear. “A fast, hard gallop, my friend. Just what we both need.” The stallion shook his mane, stomping a foreleg restlessly.

“Suilad, Aravir,” Aragorn called, walking across the clearing.

“Suilad, Aran Elessar,” the dark-haired elf smiled, eyeing this King of men whom he had grown to respect and admire over the past few months.

Aragorn returned the smile. “How fare you this morning, my friend?”

“Tolerable, hir nin,” Aravir replied. “Actually, better that tolerable today.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” the King responded. “And our mutual friend – how is he?”

Aravir shook his head fondly. “He sleeps still in the oak by the stream.” He gave Thalion’s muscular shoulder a last firm stroke with the brush and swatted the big horse affectionately.

“Thalion and I are off for a run,” Aravir informed the man. “This land with its hollows and hidden wedges of forest cries out for exploration.”

Aragorn stroked the big bay stallion’s soft nose thoughtfully and nodded. “Yes, you had best explore today, if you plan to at all.”

The elf watched Aragorn for a moment. “Are we leaving soon then?”

Aragorn hesitated. “If Legolas has accomplished his mission here, then yes, we will probably leave early tomorrow.”

Aravir sighed. “I must confess I am relieved to hear it. The voice of the sea at this close proximity presses me constantly. I will be glad to put it behind us.”

The obvious relief in the elf’s voice brought a playful smile to Aragorn’s face. “Then I may assume you will forego any trips we might make to the seashore in the future?” the King asked nonchalantly.

Aravir looked askance at the grinning man. “You assume correctly, hir nin!” he exclaimed, and knowing the human’s tendency to tease, laughed and tossed the brush at him.

Aragorn snagged the tool handily and saluted the smiling elf, who leaped upon his horse’s back calling, “I take my leave of you now, aran brannon.”

Deftly controlling his prancing mount with a softly spoken word and touch, he lifted a hand in farewell. “Tell the neth Ernil I have gone adventuring!” Leaning forward, the elf whispered in the horse’s ear. Thalion tossed his head, arching his neck proudly as he turned and carried his rider away towards the beckoning hills.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

Shortly following Aravir’s departure, as Aragorn sat next to Jarrod eating the last of his toasted bread and discussing the journey home, Legolas emerged from the trees, stretching and running a hand over his gleaming hair. For all the elf had just awoken, he still managed to look freshly groomed.

Aragorn eyed his friend and snorted softly before announcing to the camp at large, “It has ever been a mystery to me the ability of the Firstborn to maintain their pristine appearance, even upon awakening.”

Muffled laughter drifted through the camp as all eyes turned to examine the “pristine” Prince.

Legolas shrugged. “It is a gift,” he replied smugly. At the blank looks from the men he continued, “To the Firstborn – after all we ARE the eldest and should set an example for the younger kindred…” here he paused and waved his hand to encompass his audience…and was promptly pelted with flying bits of bread from Aragorn, accompanied by groans and catcalls from the company of men.

He ducked most of the missiles and slipped behind Arod, calling, “Peace!”

Laughter. Followed by more bread bits.

“Peace, Aragorn!”

The rain of bread suddenly ceased and after a moment, Legolas peered over Arod’s broad back in time to see Arador walking towards him carrying a plate in one hand and swatting the men around him with a towel held threateningly in the other. A suitably chastised King followed the old man, the laughing twinkle in his gray eyes belying the meek expression on his handsome face.

Arador called, “It is safe to come out now, my lord.”

He spotted Legolas cautiously peeking over the silver white back and grinned. “Here is yer food. Come and eat now, before it gets cold.”

At that, Aragorn reached around Arador’s shoulder and nipped a large berry from the plate.

Arador spun around, his deep blue eyes sparkling with humor. “There’s more back at the fire if ye still have a hunger for it! Really, my lord! Have ye no manners?”

Aragorn popped the berry in his mouth, chewing blissfully on the sweet fruit, and shook his head. “Nay, Arador. Besides, tis a proven fact, Legolas’ food always tastes better!”

Legolas slipped from behind Arod and grabbed his plate. “Hannon le, Arador,” he said graciously.

To Aragorn he growled, “Stop eating my food, your royal pain in the…”

“LEGOLAS!” gasped the King, laughing.

The elf smiled sweetly and said between gritted teeth, “Get your own, Estel.”

Aragorn laughed and threw the strawberry stem at the elf. “Oh, all right. Go on and eat, then.” He turned to walk away, tossing back over his shoulder, “Aravir has gone riding. He said to tell you he will return when he returns.”

Legolas smirked at the retreating back and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing his long legs under him. Riding, hmmm? That sounded like an interesting and worthwhile pastime. He began devouring the food, watching his friend with narrowed eyes just in case any more sneak attacks had been planned.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

Aravir loosed Thalion and the pair thundered across the rolling plain in a flash of muscle and speed, the elf marveling at the rapid changes from wide open space to shady woods nestled between rolling hills, and reveling in the surging strength of the horse beneath him.

They had just exited one of the small forests, Thalion cantering easily through the tall grass, when, topping a hill, Aravir brought the big horse to a sudden prancing halt. Stretching before his dazzled, delighted gaze, a small sheltered valley carpeted in warm, undulating gold lay, trapped between a pocket of morning mist and the stream of sunlight.

Slowly Aravir guided Thalion forward slowly into the gilded field. Before long, he could not resist examining the bright blossoms more closely.

“I cannot remember ever seeing anything like them before,” he murmured to his horse, dismounting to walk through the golden sea. “Although I believe I have heard stories about these lovely blooms from someone visiting in Lasgalen many, many years ago.”

He ambled slowly along, his arms outstretched, fingers lightly brushing across the tall stalks crowned with pale yellow bell-shaped flowers. Their spicy-sweet scent surrounded him, lifted to his nostrils by a soft sea breeze that swept across the field, sending the tall plants swaying and rustling.

Examining the lush blossoms more closely, Aravir looked at Thalion, who was nosing the flowers curiously, though not eating them. He smiled as the big horse sneezed, tossing his head and blowing gustily.

“Come, mellon nin,” Aravir called, laughing. “We must go and tell Ernil Legolas about this place!” Vaulting lightly onto the stallion’s back, he sent the horse racing back towards the camp.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

After the morning meal, a pensive Legolas declined all offers of company and walked along the shoreline, examining driftwood and shells washed up overnight and deposited upon the sand by the retreating waters.

The elf wandered a goodly time, reaching the part of the beach where the sand became a stony incline. Climbing until he reached the summit, Legolas stood on the rocky prominence as a warm wind whipped his fair hair back from his face and plastered his shirt against his body. He let the heartbeat of the sea blend with his own and listened as the rising wind sang to him of far away places.

With a heart so full of the beauty of the morning he felt he might burst, he turned and made his way back down to the level sand. Singing softly, Legolas slowly walked back to the hill where Aragorn had sat the day before, watching two elves frolic with their horses. Along the way, different shells that happened to please his eye or catch his interest found their way into the pocket of his tunic.

At last, sitting comfortably on the sloping hill, he studied a curious white, disc-like object he had found half buried in the sand, turning it over and over with careful, agile fingers. Obviously it had once been a living creature and now only this fragile shell was left, imprinted with what looked remarkably like the petals of a flower.

It is so finely wrought…a delicate sea blossom captured in this porcelain frame.

He slipped the disc in his pocket, along with the other shells – souvenirs of his journey.

The day was not overly warm yet; autumn’s still gentle hand lay lightly upon the land. The violent storms and chill of winter were yet to come; for now the days remained clear and mild, the breeze off the water just short of brisk.

Legolas tugged his boots off and stretched his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows, bare toes digging into the sand. He closed his eyes as he hummed brief snatches of the melody from the cliff, the snippets of sound caught up by a playful wind and lifted aloft.

It was thus that Raen and Calen found him, by way of the song he sang. They crept up quietly and sat, one on either side of the elf, crossing their legs and listening to the tune he wove with the sea and wind.

Legolas at last fell silent, eyes still closed, his head tilted to one side in an attitude of listening. “I like the way the song is new every morning,” the elf whispered, and suddenly turned his bright eyes on first one boy, then the other, smiling. The twins grinned back, caught by the peace and joy shining in the elf’s crystal gray eyes.

“Daeradar says it is the way of Iluvatar’s creation – that all life and hope be renewed each day,” Calen offered hesitantly.

Legolas studied the boy and nodded. “It would seem, pen-neth, I still have much to learn.” The boys chuckled softly. How often had they been told exactly the same thing…and how strange was it to hear those words spoken by one who was older than they could possibly imagine?

The three sat for a time in companionable silence, listening to the murmuring waves whispering their secrets to the waiting shore. Long before the twins became aware, Legolas discerned the pounding hoof beats of an approaching rider. He looked up, watching the big stallion crest a distant dune and sweep down the beach towards them, his flashing hooves throwing plumes of sand and water into the air.

Aravir slowed the big horse’s approach, and Legolas observed with growing amusement as his captain considered an abrupt halt at the feet of his Prince, along with its accompanying shower of sand. He grinned knowingly when duty defeated impulse and Aravir slowed Thalion to a more sedate walk, finally stopping in front of them.

Legolas slanted a laughing glance at the pair. He knew exactly the temptation Aravir had turned from.

I wish he had done it! He needs to learn to find joy again in the little things…to let go of duty from time to time, and I would not have minded a little sand in the face!

Legolas huffed in exasperation as he considered the elf and horse before him. He is not old enough to be my adar, although he certainly acts like it most of the time. Adar told me much of his joy was taken from him by Shadow, along with his family…and he has remained aloof from other attachments, choosing to find his fulfillment in duty. Well, it is time he embraced happiness once more…

Legolas felt a warm glow of satisfaction that Aravir had at least considered the act. His dignified, reserved Captain would learn to relinquish the tight grip of his control eventually. What interested him now, however, was the excitement gleaming in those leaf-green eyes.

“What is it, Aravir?” he asked, swiftly pulling on his boots and rising to his feet, dusting the sand from his leggings.

“Gather the mare and Arod, my lord,” Aravir instructed. “I have found something you must see for yourself.”

His friend’s eyes widened. “What?” he asked.

Aravir laughed. “Call the mare and Arod, hir nin,” he repeated, ignoring the Prince’s impatient glare as Legolas loosed a shrill whistle that brought both horses galloping over the ridge where they had been grazing quietly all morning. Noting the downcast faces of the twins, Legolas looked at Aravir, one eyebrow lifted, questioning. The captain nodded, grinning.

“Come, Raen,” Aravir called. “Ride behind me.” He stretched out a hand and pulled the suddenly jubilant teenager up behind him.

Legolas laughed at Calen’s hopeful look. “Up on Arod, Calen” he chuckled, sending the boy to the dappled white horse with a wave of his hand.

Once Calen was safely mounted and away, Legolas jumped upon the dancing mare’s back, twining his fingers in her pale mane and leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

“An adventure, mir nin!” She tossed her head in agreement as the elf sent her in pursuit of Arod and Thalion.

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~

Legolas had taken one look at the gleaming field of flowers and whispered to himself, “Of course…” before riding on into the field. He stopped in the middle, and sliding off, walked through the nodding golden blooms, the mare following close on his heels.

But Arod hung back, refusing to follow Legolas and the mare, no matter the encouragement given. Aravir had dismounted at last and placed a gentle hand on the gelding’s silver-white neck.

What troubles you, my friend? He continued to stroke the dappled coat soothingly.

Arod snorted softly, pawing the ground restlessly. This is their time. Now she truly becomes his, as it should be.

“Ah yes, I see,” Aravir breathed, draping his arm over Arod’s neck and resting his cheek against the sun-warmed neck. He closed his eyes against the sting of tears as the pain-joy experienced by the big animal flooded his mind.

You are a true friend to him, Arod. He has indeed been fortunate in you.

And I in him.

Will you wait here, then? The great horse tossed his head in acquiescence, turning aside to reassuringly nuzzle the elf leaning against him.

Then I will join the young ones. I believe from the looks of longing they are giving these flowers that they wish to bring some back to their mother’s garden.

Arod nudged the elf gently with his nose. Go then. Your friend and I will keep watch.

Giving the horse one final affectionate stroke, and speaking softly to Thalion not to wander off, Aravir turned to the watchful, silent twins.

He smiled at the boys, beckoning them closer. “We will stay here on the edge of the field for a time,” he spoke quietly.

“Is anything wrong, Aravir?” Calen asked, his eyes straying towards Legolas anxiously.

“Nay, Calen,” Aravir hastened to assure him. “Everything is fine. I believe the Prince has discovered his inspiration for the naming of the mare – finally!”

They exchanged amused, understanding glances. Even as far back as Edoras, Legolas had taken a fair amount of teasing from everyone over the nameless state of his new horse. He had always responded nonchalantly, with an arched brow and a sniff. “I will name her when the appropriate title presents itself to me – and not before!” Apparently, that time was now before him.

Aravir led the twins to a nearby cluster of particularly large, lustrous blooms. “Now my young friends, do you think your naneth would find these lovely flowers a welcome addition to her garden?” he asked.

“Yes, she would!” both twins exclaimed.

“She is always looking for new varieties…” Raen explained, kneeling to examine the plants more closely.

“…and we have instructions to bring any to her if we can transport them safely,” finished Calen, stooping to appreciate the sweet spice scent of one large bright specimen.

Aravir nodded. “Well, I believe we can do that fairly easily.”

The three turned their attention to selecting four or five sturdy plants. Aravir used his belt knife to carefully loosen the soil around the root system, lifting the plant gently from the ground, making certain a sufficient amount of soil remained clumped around the fragile roots. Calen gingerly wrapped each root ball in a portion of his undershirt which he had willingly sacrificed to the project while Raen secured each cloth and dampened it with water from his water skin.

Raen looked up at his brother, his silver gray eyes shining. “Naneth will love these,” he said, grinning. “And I think the soil near the lake has just enough sand in it to keep them happy.”

Aravir listened to the boys talk approvingly. He could hear echoes of both father and grandfather’s instruction in these two. Their love of the living world around them was evident, and whatever they chose to do with their lives, he felt both would be involved somehow with growing things.

He had in mind a suggestion for the boys’ life work, but as the idea was only half formed and the timing awkward, he set it aside and promised himself to speak to Legolas later. The elf laughed as Calen pointed out that their mother would likely put them in charge of planting these new flowers.

“My back aches just thinking of it, Cal,” Raen said with a groan. “You know she’s been wantin’ a new bed near the path to the lake.”

He paused, shrugging. “Still, they’ll look right nice there.” And Calen agreed – these would be lovely additions to the riotous color and joy of Laurelin’s gardens.

Glancing across the field, Aravir saw that Legolas was also putting the beautiful blooms to good use.

“Aravir,” Calen called. “Here is a hardy plant. Dig it up next.”

Returning to the chore at hand, Aravir began breaking up the soil around the plant’s stem.

~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~

Legolas chose another blossom, carefully breaking the stem as he sang a song of thanks to Yavanna for the offering of the plant. The mare stood statue-still beside him, her elegant head raised, the deep golden brown eyes fixed on the rolling hills, beyond which hid the sea. Only the occasional flick of an ear betrayed the close attention she paid to the elf at her side as he lovingly braided blossom after blossom into her thick mane, the deeper gold petals and dark vibrant green leaves providing a rich contrast to its pale silver-gold.

As the elf worked, he spoke to the mare softly. “It is told of the elves who wandered these lands and sailed in these waters Ages past…how when they first beheld these same golden flowers, they were reminded of the golden bells found in the Undying Lands. And often these same flowers would awaken the Sea-Longing in them, for they spoke to the Eldar of Elvenhome.

Legolas paused, his sea-gray eyes fixed on a far off sight. “I have heard those same bells pealing,” he murmured, “In my dreams their sweet music ever calls me, and when I finally walk on those distant shores, they will ring joyously once more to welcome home another son.”

He closed his eyes briefly, lost in that thought. It was the soft nuzzling of the mare that brought him back to the present, her thoughts gentle and hesitant.

But you will stay now?

Yes, mir nin. I will stay now. And you will remain my jewel. But I will also call you ALFIRIN, my golden bell…a reminder forever* of all that brought you to me.

It has a pleasing sound.

Legolas smiled in reply, fixing one final flower in her mane and drawing the proud head down to plant a kiss in the middle of her forehead.

Yes, my lady Alfirin, it does – almost as pleasing as your fair self!

Alfirin snorted. You are strange.

Legolas shouted with laughter, drawing the smiling attention of Aravir, Calen, and Raen across the field. The elven Prince leaped on Alfirin’s back and urged her towards the small group.

“Come then, hiril nin. Bear your strange burden to the others, that I might introduce you properly.”

TRANSLATIONS:

*alfirin – one of a species of flowering plants that grew in the coastal lands of Lebennin. It was said the bell-shaped golden flowers reminded the Eldar of the golden bells of Aman. The translation of the word ‘alfirin’ is “immortal”.

Anor – the sun

suilad – hello

Aran Elessar – King Elfstone

hir nin – my lord

hiril nin – my lady

neth Ernil – young Prince

Ernil Legolas – Prince Legolas

hannon le – thank you

mellon nin – my friend

daeradar – grandfather

Iluvatar – the Creator

pen-neth – young one

adar – father

naneth – mother

mir nin – my jewel (treasure)