Chapter Five: Of Fights, Feasts and First Meetings

“Another point to me, Rinniad!”

The smaller elf glared at his opponent good-naturedly as he plucked at the edge of his tunic to display the red stain more prominently.

“Well… I could have done better if you had given me a half moment longer.”

Legolas laughed and lowered his sword, trying not to flinch as a welt curving along the back of his shoulder blade twinged. He looked up as the warmth suddenly fled from his bones and shadow fell upon the small group. Legolas turned away, the laughter dying on his lips. The sun was falling below the treetops and twilight had begun to darken the forest. He abruptly handed off his red-tipped blade to Lóthmir.

“It is late. I have to go,” he said, walking briskly off toward the eastern door.

“Already?” Rinniad protested. Lóthmir fell into step beside Legolas, his face uncommonly serious.

“We have not seen you for weeks now, Legolas. Where have you disappeared to?”

Purposefully leaving his friendÂ’s question unanswered, Legolas walked away from his searching gaze.

“I-I have to go,” he repeated. “My father will be searching for me.”

An icy wind blew in from the Misty Mountains and tossed the princeÂ’s fair hair across his face and with its chill returned his fear. With dragging steps, he walked across the courtyard, leaving his puzzled friends behind him. He began to trudge up the marble stairs towards his rooms. If he did not appear, Ainan would search for him and when he found himÂ…

“If it isn’t the little prince- running back to daddy are we?” Nárvenien smirked in the shadows of the arch of the doorway, her arms folded as she leaned indolently against the stone wall. Legolas felt his face grow hot. This female was forever getting on his nerves. During sparring practice, she was the one who would throw away her sword and bodily tackle the young prince, holding him down until Kirar pulled her off.

Legolas hesitated. She was a woman and his upbringing would not allow him to hit her- no matter what the cost. And her mother was a respected member of the palace but that did not make her daughter any easier to deal with. They lived in the palace itself but far enough away that Legolas did not often see her until practice.

He decided to ignore her and tried to walk past her through the double doors but she blocked his path.

Nárvenien leaned forward, smiling confidingly.

“I hear you at night,” she said quietly, her voice full of hidden menace. “… sniveling in the dark…”

Legolas stopped dead at her words. How did she know? No one knewÂ… He whirled on her.

“What mean you, Nárvenien?” he asked. Legolas’ face must have registered his horror because the woman’s feral grin grew all the wider.

“You’ll never be a true prince,” she sneered, deliberately leaving his question unanswered. “Just like your father isn’t a true king- he’s worthless… just like you.”

Anger flooded through his veins like boiling water and suddenly Legolas dove at her. His attack caught her by surprise and the two tumbled painfully down the stair to sprawl at its foot. Legolas landed on his back as the breath whooshed from his lungs. He lay for a moment, willing the world to stop spinning around him as a sharp pain lanced through the back of his skull with the force of a thrown knife. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet rubbing the back of his head where he could feel a hard lump growing.

Ignoring the dull agony in his back and ribs, he turned, looking around for his foe. Nárvenien was already on her feet though blood ran from a cut on her forehead where it had struck the stone.

“That was foolish, you idiot,” Nárvenien snarled, seeming to forget to whom she was speaking. Legolas returned nothing although his anger had not yet died down. He merely glared at her. He suddenly realized that others were staring at them now- Lóthmir and Rinniad ran towards them, reaching Legolas’ side in an instant.

“What is happening here?”

“What do you want?” Lóthmir and Rinniad asked at the same time- one directed to Legolas the other to the female. Nárvenien’s lip curled scornfully but she held her tongue- knowing the Captain of the Guard’s son when she saw him. She had more reason to fear his father’s wrath than the King’s.

“The prince and I were having a little chat is all,” she said, shrugging carelessly and walking away. Legolas bit his lip and looked down at the ground, troubled. What did Nárvenien know?

“What in the name of the stars just happened?” Rinniad asked again, irritated that no one had answered him. Legolas shook his head slowly, anger still reddening his cheeks. Lóthmir knew the spiteful woman well and nodded his sympathy to the prince.

“You will be able to attend the festival with us tonight won’t you, Legolas?” Lóthmir asked at last, somewhat helplessly as he cast about for something to say in the face of the dull silence that had fallen between them.

“Do you think your father will still let you come?” Rinniad asked uncertainly. Legolas opened his mouth to reply but he heard the clatter of boots on the stones and all three looked up.

“What is going on here?” Kirar demanded, looking sternly from one to the other, noting the blood and bruises on Legolas’ face. Nárvenien paused at the edge of the courtyard, a malicious grin on her face.

“They were fighting!” a nearby youth spoke up. Legolas recognized him as one of Nárvenien’s friends and closed his eyes, groaning silently as his teacher looked down at him.

“Is this true, Legolas?” The prince looked at his feet and nodded numbly. The young lieutenant cast a sidelong glance at Nárvenien who adopted a look of mock innocence and shrugged in the face of his voiceless inquiry. But Kirar was not fooled- he knew well the rivalry between his two students. But his duties he also took to heart.

“I shall be speaking to your father about this,” Kirar said grimly. Legolas’ shoulders slumped slightly. “Follow me,” the elven lieutenant commanded. He turned when the flame-haired female did not follow them.

“That includes you as well, Nárvenien,” he said sternly. The girl looked up sharply, her face flooding with indignation.

“But, sir, he-”

“Now!” he barked. The sharpness in his voice apparently startled her for she winced and trotted sullenly in Kirar’s wake up the marble stairs. Legolas followed glumly after her, glancing over his shoulder at his friends.

~*~

“Where are you dragging these two off to, Kirar? More torturous archery lessons?” Telas inquired with a small smile as he moved towards the small group in the hallway. The elven lieutenant looked up sharply.

“These two miscreants were brawling, my lord. I am taking them to their parents for punishment.” Thranduil’s councilor raised a speculative eyebrow at Legolas’ bowed head.

“Oh? Under what circumstances?”

“Well, my lord, they-” Kirar began to explain but Telas cut him off.

“Yes, yes, but of course! We all have much to do I’m sure. You’re quite busy, I understand. You may be able to find Eraeriel in the library. And don’t worry, I shall take care of Legolas.” The prince in question blinked in surprise as the councilor effectively rid himself of the soldier and his other charge. Telas turned back to Legolas when Kirar and Nárvenien were out of earshot.

“It’s that Nárvenien girl isn’t it?” Legolas looked up at his father’s councilor, surprised. He hadn’t known that Telas paid any attention to such things.

“Yes.” The councilor shook his head, his lips pursued.

“Wretched girl.” Legolas gazed at him askance; a small smile threatening the corner of his lips as he vigorously nodded his agreement. Telas raised an eyebrow.

“Did you hit her?” Legolas blushed and looked away.

“I… we fell down the stairs.” Telas snorted.

“Good. A knock on the head is what that girl deserves.” The councilor smiled kindly at the prince.

“I haven’t seen you in my lessons of late, Legolas.” The young prince looked at the ground ashamedly. He had scarcely had the strength to rise out of his bed each morning after one of his uncle’s ‘training sessions’ much less to go to classes.

“I-I know. I’ve-” But Telas held up a hand.

“I don’t want any of your excuses. I merely want you there.” He waved a hand impatiently.

“Go on now,” he said brusquely. “Off with you.”

“But- but my punishment?” Legolas asked, his mouth dry. Telas looked around and leaned forward conspiratorially.

“I will not tell your father of this if you don’t, Legolas,” he whispered. The prince looked up at him hopefully, feeling a rush of gratitude towards the councilor.

“Really?” Legolas swore he received the tiniest wink in answer and breathed a sigh of profound relief- if his father didn’t know, his uncle wouldn’t either.

“Thanks, Telas,” he said gratefully. He started to walk back down the hall but the councilor called him back.

“However, Legolas-” The prince turned slowly, his face showing his sudden unease. But Telas was still smiling. “I want you to be in my lesson tomorrow.” Smiling brightly again, Legolas nodded.

“I will.”

And this time, he felt as though he could keep that promise.

~*~

Haldir sighed quietly for what seemed like the fifth time that hour as he heard Ancadal shift impatiently beside him. Negotiations were not going quite as well as he dared hope. The Lady had sent him to Mirkwood to request Thranduil to sign a unification treaty between their two realms. It would allow the elves of Mirkwood and Lothlórien to trade with one another and trust would blossom between the two kingdoms once more.

For what reasons Thranduil protested this, Haldir did not know. It was true that Lothlórien had had no vast involvement in the Last Alliance- thinking it a hopeless and useless cause. While the former had not proven true, the latter had and the Ring had been lost but not unmade. Because of this, Mirkwood had grown estranged from its southern brethren after the death of its king. But now the Elves of Lórien were trying to amend the contentions between them and unite the Kindreds.

Thranduil, however, was reticent and Haldir understood his position for his father had been slain in that great battle. Had a contingent of Lórien elves aided them, their downfall might not have been so grievous and the King deeply resented Galadriel her peace and security in that Golden Forest while suffered constant attack on all sides from the wolves and spiders encircling its borders.

But that was no reason for the near-enmity between the two to continue.

The discussions were long and seemingly endless; it was clear that they would come to no agreement today.

“I weary of this,” Thranduil assented at last. Haldir smothered a smile as he heard Ancadal breathe a soft sigh of relief.

“The festival is tonight- enjoy yourselves. We shall speak of these troublesome matters another time.” Seeing his dismissal, Haldir bowed to the King and led the way out.

Cálivien smiled as he stepped out of the shadows where he had wisely taken a seat during the proceedings. Having been a part of treaty negotiations at one time or another in his long life, he knew how long they could become. He clapped a hand on his young commander’s shoulder and gave him a slight wink.

“Not bad for your first attempt.” Haldir rolled his eyes despairingly.

“If I never have to do that again it will be too soon.” The older elf chuckled and shook his head.

“Don’t worry. We’ll make a diplomat of you yet.”

“May we be excused from the next ensnarement, please?” Ancadal interjected pleadingly.

“No. If I must suffer so shall you.”

The other two laughed at HaldirÂ’s brusque refusal while Ancadal looked downright crestfallen. Rameil glanced out the window at the afternoon sun which was slowly drifting down towards the trees.

“At least it was no worse than one of Elrond’s endless discourses,” he remarked stolidly. He alone had been the most patient among them (other than Cálivien, of course). Ancadal laughed blithely.

“Lord Elrond has enough wind in him to quench a Balrog’s fire if he had a mind.”

“Do not speak so disrespectfully,’ Cálivien admonished sternly, a small grin threatening his lips.

As the elves good-naturedly ribbed each other down the corridor, they did not see the cloaked figure that watched them from the shadows.

~*~

The sun was waning. Haldir sighed deeply, breathing in the crisp air blowing in from the cold mountains in the east. He leaned his elbows languidly on the stone terrace. Little blue flowers entwined with greenish grey ivy curled around the balustrades and around his elbows as the sun sank into a glorious display of crimson and deepest bronze. The dark green of the trees added a profound sense of mystery and serenity to the natural austere beauty of the forest and its black river which flowed, babbling over the pebbles at its bottom.

Negotiations had not gone as well with the King as he had thought but Haldir felt certain that they would be able to return home soon- before the winter set in earnestly, he hoped, for he did not relish the thought of traveling through the snows and bitter wind. Though the snow and cold troubled the elves little, it was an inconvenience if the passes home were blocked with snow or hungry wolves sought them out for fresh blood.

Shaking aside those thoughts, Haldir looked up at the sky again. The weather was oddly heavy for this time of year. The snows would come early, he was sure of it, looking up at the grey clouds enveloping what small expanse of sky he could see through the thickly interlacing branches of the trees.

A light step alerted him to the presence of another behind him and he turned away from his reflections. Cálivien leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually before him.

“Standing out here alone again, are you?” he inquired lightly.

“Is that a rebuke?” the younger elf demanded, smiling slightly as he raised a challenging eyebrow.

“An observation.”

Haldir said nothing more as he conceded to the otherÂ’s remark with a nod, his gaze returning to the fastness of the forest spread out before them. The older elf came up behind him and followed his eyes southeast.

“Thinking of home?” Haldir observed, feeling a slight twinge of wistfulness himself. The older elf smiled.

“Only of the sorry state my patrol is going to be in by the time I return.” Haldir laughed softly- as a part of said patrol, he knew what kind of taskmaster Cálivien was and also knew that his regimental duties would gladly be taken up by the younger captains in Lórien so that nothing would be lacking when he returned.

“We will be fortunate indeed if the entire eastern side hasn’t been razed when we return with all of the sightings there were of orcs before we left,” Haldir muttered absently. He had been against their going from the first. What would the borders do without one of their senior captains? Every elf was needed to protect the borders- it was their duty and Haldir was diffident to leave even at the Lady’s behest. Cálivien laughed heartily and clapped his longtime student and friend on the shoulder.

“You worry far too much. And you always have.” Haldir smiled faintly and shook his head in reply. The silver-haired elf sobered as he looked out at the darkening forest.

“The stars will be out soon,” Cálivien remarked idly, staring up at the heavens.

“I do not think any stars will break through these dark clouds,” Haldir replied mildly.

“Have more hope, mellon-nín!” The older elf chided lightly, his words masking more than the picayune circumstances of the weather. He knew Haldir was rather uncertain of his capabilities as a leader. It always was so on a first trial and Cálivien had known the younger elf too long to be bothered by his oft-sober mood. But if he was to have any confidence in himself, Haldir would have to shake himself free of the preemptory frost of uncertainty.

The older elfÂ’s eyes swept the walls before him. The sheer battlements of the palace fell sharply away from them then sloped gently down towards the courtyard. A white fountainÂ’s rush could be scarcely heard in the gardens some ways to their right, lost among the trees. Below them, many elves worked busily- gathering dead branches for firewood or organizing horses for a hunting party to retrieve the nightÂ’s meal. Night was falling rapidly and the first piercing tunes of a lyre floated up to their ears.

“The festival is about to begin,” Cálivien said, his eyes fixed interestedly on the activities below. He cast a sideways glance at the younger elf.

“Mayhap some eager maiden is waiting down there to share an enchanting evening with a young bachelor, hmm?” Haldir smirked slightly as he walked back into his rooms to alert the others.

“Don’t count yourself so fortunate, mellon-nín. You’re not young anymore.” Cálivien laughed and followed after Haldir. The King had expressly insisted upon their attendance at the celebration tonight. Hurriedly dressing in something more suitable than their hunting leathers, the four elves hastened down to the riverside where the bonfires were being lit on the edge of the forest.

~*~

Legolas too watched the fires being lit in the gardens and his heart ached to join them for the stars burned cold and brightly overhead (the clouds having abated). There would be much merrymaking tonight. His uncle had been thankfully absent during the afternoon and Legolas was grateful for the reprieve. The prince stopped suddenly on his way towards the great hall as he caught sight of a familiar figure standing at one of the long, narrow windows in the corridor that gazed out over the palace grounds but before he could speak the silhouetted figure addressed him.

“Good evening, ernil-nin (my prince).” Legolas looked awkwardly up at the lieutenant, remembering their confrontation earlier that afternoon.

“Good evening, sir,” he answered deferentially. “Are you going to be joining the hunt?” Legolas asked suddenly, knowing that seldom a season passed when the elven lieutenant failed to bring home the prize. Kirar kept his eyes carefully fixed out on the frowning dusk and answered noncommittally. Legolas looked up at his sparring teacher. Kirar seemed very uneasy about something.

“Is something troubling you, sir?” he asked quietly, not wanting to seem intrusive. The lieutenant shook his head absently, his fair face still deeply troubled.

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?” Legolas shook his head and shrugged: it was a blatant lie even the young prince could see that but he would not press him if Kirar wished to say nothing.

“You seem to carry a heavy burden on your shoulders.” Kirar did not reply to that, his eyes darting around the broad lawn stretched out below them to the dark tree line as though he expected some sort of monstrosity to materialize from the fluttering shadows beneath the rocking boughs.

“I’m sure you have the festival to attend to, Legolas,” he said at last, obviously wanting the prince to leave. Legolas took the hint and nodded quickly, stepping back into the shadows of the corridor.

“Prince Legolas!” a guard hailed him as he entered the great hall just inside the double doors of the palace. Legolas stopped, recognizing Lóthmir’s father hastening towards him.

“Mae govannen, Tirien!” he called out joyously. The captain of the Royal Guard greeted the prince warmly.

“How do you fare, my prince? Lóthmir told me how you soundly defeated Rinniad in swordplay this afternoon.” Legolas smiled at the thought but he could not stay and banter all night.

“I’m sorry Tirien. The festival-” Tirien waved him on.

“Of course, of course! Have fun. Fortunate for you to have a warm fire nearby while the rest of us linger on the cold borders,” he joked. Legolas grinned, knowing perfectly well that he would more than likely be seeing the guard and his son that very evening during the course of the celebration.

“Oh! Before I forget, Legolas,” Tirien called back suddenly. “Your father wished to speak with you.”

The happy euphoria that had filled LegolasÂ’ heart deflated. What would his father want with him?

Shutting the outside door reluctantly behind him, Legolas hastened to his fatherÂ’s rooms.

“Ah, Legolas. There you are.” Thranduil greeted his son as the prince sidled into the room. Legolas took a seat on the divan as he watched his father slide an auburn colored mantle over his shoulders.

“What did you want to speak with me about, Ada?” Thranduil paused for a long moment to adjust the crown of autumn leaves upon his golden hair; and the knot in Legolas’ stomach grew tighter with anxiety.

“I heard that you were scuffling in the courtyard today with Eraeriel’s daughter.” Legolas looked up in surprise. How had his father found out? And did his uncle know? He felt slightly betrayed that Telas had gone back on his word but his father’s angry voice broke off his thoughts.

“Legolas, I am very disappointed in you,” Thranduil said gravely, his fair features drawn. “A prince does not shame his family by fighting in the streets like a common dwarf,” The King continued. Legolas felt his cheeks flush red with shame.

The door swung open in the middle of ThranduilÂ’s tirade and he paused as Ainan stood in the doorway.

“Pardon, Thranduil but the people are requesting their monarch to begin the festival.” The King waved a hand dismissively.

“In a moment, Ainan.”

“Thranduil, they will not-”

“A moment, I said!” the King snapped sharply. Ainan fell silent, his chin lifted proudly and eyes flashing but he remained quiet. Legolas looked away uneasily and caught sight of his mother standing in the doorway his uncle had vacated. Thranduil sighed and turned again to his erroneous son.

“I want to speak to you later, Legolas- to arrange your punishment.” The son nodded sullenly. Ainan smiled briefly then his face turned grim as he stepped forward and put a hand on the prince’s shoulder. Legolas tried very hard not to shudder.

“Rest assured, Thranduil. Legolas and I will be having a long talk about his… indiscretions.” Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

“I can discipline my own son, Ainan, thank you,” he answered icily, sweeping past his brother-in-law and out the door.

“If nothing else,” Ainan hissed so quietly that none else heard.

“I suppose I’ll not be allowed to attend the festival tonight,” Legolas said glumly after his father. The King looked long and hard at his son and glanced at his wife, who cast him a pleading look.

“Your punishment will start tomorrow,” Thranduil relented, knowing how much his son enjoyed the winter feasts above all others. Legolas looked up, a small smile of relief on his face.

“Hannon le, ada,” he said. The smile died quickly from his lips as his uncle looked down at him, a calculating gleam in his eyes. Legolas shifted uncomfortably and quickly darted past his uncle and into the relative safety of the corridor as he followed after his parents.

He glanced out the mullioned windows towards the slowly setting sun as he followed his parents down the corridor.

Tonight was Narbeleth- the best festival of the year. The weather was just capricious enough to allow for a few final, though chill, days of autumn before the cold snap froze the river and the spiders returned in earnest to their warm hollows to feast on the unwary. However, no troubles would they heed tonight.

Tonight, there would be music and dancing, and towards the end of the night all of those of age would mount their steeds and ride off in search of the white hinds who gathered every year at this time to the forest river for one last time before the frost confined them to their thickets. The elusive and beautiful creatures had never been caught and each year was a competition to see which elf could get the closest to the deer before they escaped.

The young elf prince sighed and looked up at the overcast clouds scudding across the sky, swallowing up the light. It would be a dark night but LegolasÂ’ heart was light for a time. Tonight, at least, he would be safe from the horrors that haunted his waking and dreaming nightmares.

~*~

The light of the blazing and roaring flames irradiated the underside of the dark leaves of the trees that towered into an over lacing canopy far above their heads. Legolas seated himself at his father and mother’s side at the long wooden table. On Thranduil’s left sat Ainan and on either side of the table sat the four elves from Lothlórien.

The sweet music of wood flutes drifted on the chill air and the snapping of the bonfires warmed the air around them. The mouth-watering scent of roasted meat filled the air.

After the meal, Legolas and his friends entertained themselves by listening to the regaling tales of one of the elves of Lothlórien. The silver-haired elf’s face was alight as he spoke of the glory of victory against the orcs that appeared from over the mountains. The eager younglings watched his gesticulating hands and the fire’s glow upon his animated face, captivated by the story.

Legolas caught sight of the two others of the elves from Lothlórien, standing amid the green and blues of Mirkwood in their grey cloaks. He could see them not far away.

Their gilt bows were drawn and it was obvious that they were considering a contest. Legolas watched as the dark-haired one grinned and nodded to his compatriot, pacing twelve steps away or so and readied himself, gripping his bow tightly with his other hand out and ready, his gaze intent upon the trees before him.

Legolas raised an eyebrow and his head slightly to see better. He had heard of this game among the elves of Lothlórien but had never actually seen it for his father had forbidden it to the younger elves because of the imminent peril incited by the ‘game.’

The younger elf, Ancadal, drew an arrow from his quiver and set it to the string. He shot a glance across the clearing to where the King and his Queen sat, noting their occupation with other matters and grinned as he drew his arrow to the string.

And loosed it straight at his companionÂ’s unprotected back.

The arrow buzzed through the air with the speed and fervor of a stinging wasp.

At the last moment, Rameil spun around and snatched the arrow out of the air, swiftly fitting it to his own bow and firing it back at his companion. Ancadal repeated the motion, spinning around swiftly to catch the arrow.

Legolas let out a breath he hadnÂ’t known heÂ’d been holding.

It was RameilÂ’s turn again and he grasped at the arrow. Suddenly, the shaft skated nimbly through his fingers and clipped him in the thigh as it shot away into the darkness. His companion, after inquiring to his welfare, laughed aloud at the chagrined expression on his friendÂ’s face.

Legolas smiled too and looked around the merry crowd but he did not see the one who had waved at him in the courtyard.

Cálivien, noticing several of his audiences’ distraction, looked up. His verdant eyes narrowed and he abruptly stood, walking towards the two elves. But he stopped as another elf appeared suddenly. Ancadal released his arrow again only to have it snatched out of the air in the middle of its flight. Puzzled, he looked around and Legolas watched him pale slightly and look sheepishly at the ground with his bow in his hands like an elfling caught misbehaving.

Legolas smothered a grin as he recognized the elf and watched as the elven commander handed the arrow back to the younger elf with a sharp reprimand. The words were too softly spoken to catch even with the princeÂ’s keen ears but he watched the tips of AncadalÂ’s ears redden with embarrassment and nod silently. Rameil winked at his fellow soldier, a small grin threatening his lips- until Haldir rounded on him.

~*~

Legolas spent as much time as possible with his friends for he didn’t know when he would see them again or the light of day for that matter because of Ainan’s and Telas’ lessons and his father’s punishment… He doubted he would have any time left at all for his friends.

But after a while, he forgot his melancholy and bid his friends goodnight as he rose, walking alone on the path through the gardens. It was quiet here and very peaceful. He wandered aimlessly, breathing in the sweet, lingering scents of lavender that grew wild on the hedges and the white flowers and roses that sent their heavy scent drifting through the air. For the first time in a long time, he forgot his fear and simply breathed in the present.

He heard water tinkling nearby and knew he was close to the white marble fountain that was his mother’s most beloved place. Thranduil had created it especially for her. The moonlight seemed to linger on the whiteness of the basin as Legolas moved towards it but stopped abruptly as he realized that he was not alone.

He lifted his head, glancing up at the bright stars overhead but out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow move.

Nárvenien stepped out from the darkness, her red hair contrasting starkly with the night. Her green eyes were livid.

“You got me into trouble,” she spat. Legolas’ eyes narrowed.

“I’m in trouble too,” he reasoned. She scoffed.

“You’re the King’s son. What do you have to do? Make your own bed?” Legolas flushed. Nárvenien took another step towards him, her fists raised as though she sought to hit him.

“You’ll pay for that, little princeling. And now there are no stairs for you to throw us down.” She bared her teeth in an acerbic sneer and lunged forward.

“Beautiful evening, is it not?” The red-haired female checked her attack immediately and looked up at this new voice, releasing the collar of the young prince’s tunic.

“Who’s that?” she demanded, taking an automatic step backward.

A dark figure detached itself from the umbrage of the trees overhanging the path and stepped into the moonlight, his sharp features illuminated by the silver light. Nárvenien momentarily closed her eyes in mortification as she realized that she had just disrespected a guest in their halls.

“I-I’m sorry, sir!” she stammered awkwardly. “I… didn’t see you there.”

Haldir nodded slowly, his gaze darting towards the prince. Legolas looked away, embarrassed to be caught fighting before this stranger.

Nárvenien simpered and curtsied neatly, summoning forth all of her charm

“It is indeed a lovely evening, sir. I am Nárvenien.” She smiled politely and extended her hand which Haldir took and brought to his lips briefly. With a flash of her red hair tossed loosely over one shoulder, Nárvenien smiled at the Lórien commander and shot a look of pure venom at Legolas before striding out of the garden.

Legolas looked at the strange elf and blinked in surprise as he realized that it was the same elf that he had seen in the courtyard earlier that afternoon. He bowed quickly.

“Good evening, hir-nín (my lord).” Haldir waved aside the polite formality and smiled faintly, returning the bow in Lórien fashion with his hand over his heart.

“Good evening, ernil neth (young prince) but my family have never been lords- please, call me Haldir.” Legolas nodded, unsure if he could actually do that or not. He had been taught to respect adults and that entailed, usually, a title of some sort.

HaldirÂ’s grey gaze swept the garden, breathing in the sweet floral scents and watching the clear fountain water fall into the basin.

“This is a beautiful place,” he said quietly, almost to himself. Legolas nodded his agreement.

“It is my mother’s garden.”

Legolas chanced a glance up at the older elf.

He was quite tall, cloaked against the chill and he stood quite still, watching the tranquil water which still fell even in the cold. His gaze lifted to the brightly shining stars above- so very clear on such a cold night.

Legolas looked up too, catching his breath at the myriad pinpricks of tiny lights spread across the inky blackness of the sky.

“The Gil-Estel is very bright tonight,” Haldir said quietly, his gaze fixed on the brightest star in the sky- the hope of the elves. Legolas smiled fondly.

“My mother often tells me the stories of the Elder Days,” he said softly, looking up at Haldir. “Of… Earendil and Elwing… and the glory of the battles and suchlike.” Haldir smiled.

“You enjoy such tales?” he asked lightly. Legolas nodded eagerly, his eyes shining.

“Very much. My favorite tale is the one of the Silmarils- of Fëanor.” Haldir nodded, sobering slightly.

“Yes. The tale of the Silmarils- a grim history- filled with both great sorrow and great beauty.” Legolas looked down at the ground before voicing his question.

“Where-where you… ?” he trailed off, embarrassed for asking. Haldir looked down at him.

“Alive during that time- heavens no! I feel old already- but certainly not that old!” he laughed and a small smile spread across Legolas’ face too. Haldir glanced up at the hovering moon to gauge the hour.

“It is late, young prince. Should you not be abed soon?” Legolas shrugged but he, too, had noticed the lateness of the hour. It was later than he had anticipated but he did not wish to leave such interesting company. Haldir caught the look on his face and smiled knowingly.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Haldir suggested, intrigued by this young elf. “Perhaps, you could show me around your most beautiful home.” Legolas smiled slightly and nodded.

“I’d like that.” The golden-haired prince looked up but Haldir’s eyes were fixed on something beyond him. Haldir forcibly smothered a groan as Cálivien strode purposefully into the garden towards him.

“Forgive me, young prince, for I must divest you of your comrade: I have resolved to see Haldir dance tonight.” Legolas hid a smile as Haldir bowed as graciously as he could with Cálivien tugging on his arm.

“Another time then, Prince Legolas.” The younger elf nodded.

“Another time.”

Legolas smiled slightly and watched the two elves disappear through the white arched gate. He followed in their wake, thinking to either rejoin his friends or go on up to his rooms for the night for he was quite weary- it had been a long and busy day.

“Legolas.” The voice made the younger elf look up as calmly as he could though his heart jumped uncomfortably in his chest. He stopped dead, his cheeks draining of color.

Ainan stood at the entrance to the garden, his dark gold hair shimmering in the moonlight. His glittering eyes were fixated on the young prince.

“Your father wishes you to begin your punishment tonight- now.”

“But… I thought my father decided to let me start it to-”

“It is the King’s decision- to change his mind if he so wishes,” Ainan interrupted smoothly. Legolas nodded mutely, his eyes downcast and a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he followed after his uncle.

As they flitted through the shadows, he could see the remnants of the feast and the strains of a light melody from golden harps drifted to his ears. The laughter of his fatherÂ’s people rang in his ears- merry- but to him, it sounded hollow, forced, jeering as he passed into the empty darkness of the palace.