Chapter 4 – Becoming Friends

The crowd soon dissipated when Lord Isál quickly ushered the boy, his Ammë and the prince to a private place where they could speak.  He had been sure that Legolas would pick the young outcast as his companion and was glad for it, the young son of Legeldel, under his tutelage would bring honor one day to his Adar’s name.

Within a half hour Isál had made arrangements with Delérith, Anarandil’s Ammë, had got Legolas settled into the barracks, and had measured both boys for the bows they would need when they returned.  Not long after that, their packs were ready and they were heading once again to the gates of Greenwood.

Legolas could feel his excitement rise, as this would be the first time he would be allowed to venture from his home to witness what lay beyond.  As Isál and his students stood there waiting for the gates to open, Legolas could smell the outside air as it drifted in and to him it smelled much sweeter then all the air he had ever smelled.  The air smelled of new adventures and freedom from all the turmoil of palace life.  All of his senses were on edge as they took one step then another step and they were almost past the gates when a voice called them back.

“Lord Isál wait!”  Delérith called.

Legolas released his pent-up breath.  He had no idea he had been holding it, but felt very much like a withering flower as his adventure was halted before it began.

Delérith gave a knowing look.  “I am not here to stop your adventures,” she said to the boys.  “I just, well, I remembered I had these still and I wanted Anarandil to have them.”  She thrust the package at her son and spoke with tears in her eyes.  “Make your Ada proud my son, he loved you very much.”  Then, choking back sobs of loss, Delérith fled back to her home.

Anarandil looked after his Ammë then looked up to Lord Isál questioningly.

“Why don’t you put it in your pack and we can see what it is after we make camp.  All right?”  The elder elf answered.

Anarandil nodded and did the elf lord’s bidding.  This accomplished, Legolas was finally able to take that much anticipated step through the gates.

Seeing the look on Legolas’s face, Anarandil ventured a question.  “So your Highness, do you feel any different?”

“What?”  Legolas had not really been paying attention to his companions.

“Do you feel different now that you have left the palace?”  Anarandil shyly smiled.

Legolas laughed.  “Was I that obvious?”

Looking embarrassed, Anarandil replied, “Well, yes you were.”

Legolas quickly reassured his new friend.  “To answer your question Anarandil, yes I guess I do feel a little different.  May I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything your Highness!”

“That’s just it,” Legolas responded.  “I don’t want to be “royalty” with you, I want us to be friends.  Can’t you just call me Legolas and drop all the titles?  This will be all right won’t it, Lord Isál?”

The elf lord had been just watching the two get to know each other when the question was presented to him.

“Yes Legolas, except when you are on royal duty, he may drop the formality.  It is a balance the two of you will have to work out.  Anarandil, is this something you are comfortable with?”  Isál watched his other charge with curiosity.

“On one condition,” Anarandil responded.  “All my friends in Lorien called me Randil, so if you will do that, I will drop the formality.”

“Deal,” Legolas agreed as he reached out his hand and the two shook on it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the palace the topic of Legolas and Anarandil was spreading like wildfire.  The major thread of conversation was of shock and disbelief that a member of the royal family would choose a Lothlorien elf as his companion when he had such excellent Greenwood elves to choose from.

It was Rowyn and Anaran who heard the varied comments and with each one they became more impressed with the choice their younger brother had made.

“He could have picked our Unoriand,” said one disgruntled Ammë.

“Yes,” whispered Rowyn to Anaran, “but wasn’t he the one who started the unPrince of Greenwood comment?”

“Our Belithraldor will be a much better warrior than that Anarandil ever will,” said another.

Anaran actually snorted at this.  “Belithraldor still cannot hit the short target in his archery, his warrior skills are still in question.”

“I don’t understand why the young prince didn’t pick our Gil-Ganduil,” yet another adoring Ammë said.  “The two always played together when they were younger, and Gil-Ganduil said he could not wait for Legolas to join the rest of them.”

The two brothers looked at each other and broke into fits of laughter after hearing this comment, gaining themselves several questioning looks from those nearby.

“Gil-Ganduil can’t stand Legolas,” Rowyn unnecessarily told his brother.

“Yes,” agreed Anaran.  “He only tolerated Legolas to appease his parents or so I’ve heard him say on many an occasion when he didn’t know I was around.”

They continued to hear comments all through that day and could now understand why it was that Legolas picked the young Lothlorien elf.

“Anarandil was the only intelligent choice he could have made,” Rowyn said.  “He was also unwanted by his peers which puts him and Legolas on even ground.  He also never had the chance to betray Legolas’s friendship.”

“I agree,” Anaran responded.  “You must also admit that his name is an excellent one.”  Anaran ducked the playful punch his brother threw at him.

They laughed as they headed back to the barracks, both wanting the chance to get to know their younger brother for they had decided that he was wise beyond his years.  They were enjoying their time so much that they missed another comment from a pair that was watching them.

“Let Legolas have his little Lorien friend, neither one of them will ever be wanted or accepted as warriors of Greenwood the Great.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Isál led his charges for about an hour, enjoying their banter and the camaraderie that was slowly starting to develop between the two.  He stopped and eyed a tree then turned to the boys.  “Who can tell me what kind of tree this is?”

Legolas and Randil looked at each other then both answered at the same time.  “That’s an oak tree.”

“Yes it is,” Isál agreed.  “But what kind of oak?  Do you know the two different groups of oak trees?”

This time the boys just stared at each other then turned back to their teacher with blank looks on their faces.

Isál smiled at the boys and started to explain.  “Oak trees fall into two categories, the black and the white.  The black oaks are characterized by leaves with sharp-tipped lobes and by acorns that mature in two years; smooth-lobed leaves and acorns that mature in one year characterize the white oaks.  So which one is this?”

Each of the young boys picked up a leaf and studied it.  Excitedly they both called out the answer.  “This is a white oak tree!”

“Very good!  It is important to understand your environment and be able to recognize the plants and animals in your midst.  One day I will leave you both in the middle of a forest with no provisions and you will be able to survive because you will know what to look for.”  He watched their eyes get big.  “That is in the future, for now we will go back to the tree.  This particular white oak is a cork oak tree.  The bark is used as stoppers in wine bottles among other things.  Of course the acorns of the oak trees are also edible.”

Isál then leaned into the tree as if he were listening.  He motioned for both the boys to join him.  “Can either of you tell me what the tree is saying?”

As the boys were getting their first lesson in understanding the trees, they all would have been surprised to know that they were being watched.  Unbeknownst to them, they had walked close to the clearing where two human’s in their mid twenty’s were waiting patiently for the herd of deer that regularly passed this way to get to their watering hole.  They were both staring in astonishment at Legolas and one of their faces had drained of all color.

His face soon went from white to red as his anger rose and he notched an arrow.  He had been told that the elf responsible for all those unthinkable things done to his sister was dead, but the face had been imprinted on his mind and this was the same elf.

Isál stood up from the tree and looked around.  “Danger is near!” he exclaimed.

His warning was too late, for an arrow was already on its way, heading straight for Legolas’ heart.