Ill news ’till green eyes

Legolas woke with a start. He’d been dreaming, and although he usually forgot his dreams this one stuck stubbornly, throbbing in his mind from the moment he opened his eyes. Pushing it to the back of his thoughts, he dressed and left his bedchamber.

Along the corridor he met his mother, Rinithil, who was coming from the opposite direction.

“Good morning, Mother,” said Legolas.

“Good morning, my Legolas,” said Rinithil as she kissed him on the forehead. She smiled. “You tell your father it’s about time you were given your bow. You’re skilled enough now to have your own.”

“Legolas grinned, “Yes Mother.”

She smiled once more and passed by him to her room.

Legolas loved his mother more than anything on the earth. He loved his father and sister of course, but it was his mother who had his heart.

He descended the stairs and entered the Great Hall of the Elven King Thranduil, his father, who he found there. He passed on his mother’s message, at which his father smiled. Then Legolas spoke of his dream.

“I was gazing into a pair of eyes and they were staring back at me,” Legolas began. “They were the colour of jade, deep and green. I don’t think actual words were spoken, but I was getting a feeling that the eyes were not evil, and that I will see the owner of them some time in my life but until then through all life’s joys there will be shadow on me. That something will happen that will be simply awful and it will leave a long train of years in my life in bitter sadness. And…” Legolas hesitated, trying to put this confusion into words, “And those eyes will be the next good thing I see and until then there will always be evil. Father, what can it mean?”

Thranduil paused in though. Presently he opened his mouth to answer but he was interrupted by a cry.

“Orcs! We’re under attack!” yelled the guards. Several other elves hurried with their weapons to the far entrance of the halls to ward off the offenders, who had somehow gotten past all the sentinels, perhaps by some dark magic.

“Orc attacks!” cried Legolas. “Now I think I understand. This is the awful thing to happen to us father? As predicted in my dream?”

“Legolas, I cannot tell the sure meaning of your dream as yet but I just hope you soon see these green eyes. I fear there is worse to come.” Discombulated, he closed his eyes for a moment.

“Father?”

His eyes reopened and he took his bow which a servant was holding out to him. “Legolas, quickly run upstairs to tell your mother what is happening. You’re too young to fight even if you can shoot.”

“Yes, Father.”

Legolas ran across the hall and his life was saved by a guard when he had come too close to an orc who attempted to stab him but was slain first. He escaped unharmed and hurried up the stairs to the door of his parents’ bedchamber.

“Mother?” he called. There was no answer.

He pushed open the door. The head of the bed was against the right hand wall and the night table was on the side of the bed furthest from the door, leaving a gap between the bed and the opposite wall. He could not see his mother. He turned to leave, but something stopped him. As he glanced back, he had noticed that the window opposite the door was open, it’s curtains pushed untidily aside. A second glance told him of the heavy mud footprint scarring the white windowsill.

He paused. He could hear the battle downstairs and remembered the orc who tried to kill him. A shudder ran through him, and he trembled.

He walked around the bed. As he looked past the end of it he saw something that made his blood run cold. On the floor was an evil looking dagger. Fresh blood dripped off the blade. Looking back up at the windows he saw traces of red through the lace curtains.

Fear seized him. He was reluctant to move. He did not want to know what had happened. Very slowly, as if he were in a dream or nightmare, he peered around at the floor on the other side of the bed.

Downstairs, the orcs were losing. Most had been slain and the others were fleeing for their lives. Thranduil was relieved, though he knew there would be more attacks.

Several heads turned at a sudden scream from upstairs. It was a scream of horror and shock. Of torment, frustration, and loss. It was a child’s voice, heart wrenching to hear, and was quickly followed by a long wail of anguish.

Mother!