THE GOLDEN ARCHER

Thranduil stood transfixed upon the sight before him. It was one he would never forget. On a hillock overlooking the realm of Eryn Lasgalen stood a lone figure bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

The elf was staring westward and singing a lay. His voice was a beautiful full ranging tenor with a hint of baritone.

Golden hair hung down almost to his waist and was held back from his face by neat rows of warrior braids and a mithril circlet signifying his royal rank. The elf was slender as most archers tended to be, but tall with broad shoulders, like his sire. His clothing was a simple but elegant long tunic of cream with a gold-toned outer mantle and leggings. Tanned soft suede boots completed the perfect image before Thranduil’s eyes.

“Did I truly sire this perfect being?” Thranduil asked no one in particular.

Just then, Thranduil caught the glint from tears as they slid down his son’s face. Only then did the elven king hear the words Legolas was singing. The realization of those words broke the king’s heart. In that moment, he knew he would either have to sail or bid his son farewell forever because the sea longing had awakened within him. Once awakened, an elf either answered the call or faded from grief.

Legolas had come home after a century away. He had come home to say farewell. Thranduil guessed as much when word reached him of King Aragorn Elessar’s passing.

Legolas and the human king were the deepest of friends and it was for love of Elessar his son chose to live in Gondor after the Ring War.

Thranduil hoped against hope that Legolas was coming home to stay, since there was no longer a reason for him to remain in Gondor. However, seeing his son, weeping as he sang of Valinor, he knew this was not to be.

Thranduil thought back to a few years earlier when he visited Ithilien and beamed with pride at his son’s accomplishments. One of Thranduil’s advisor’s asked if this meant Legolas was making Ithilien his new home.

Thranduil sensed uneasiness when his son answered by looking west…not north… and said quietly, “No, this is not my home.”

The last golden rays left the archer as the sun set behind the mountains. Legolas ended his song and stood there a few moments more as he regained control of his emotions. He wiped the tears from his face and turned retracing his steps back to the palace where he had been born.

The prince looked up at the palace and saw his father. He saw the look of grief in his father’s eyes and knew his father understood the reason for this visit.

As he reached Thranduil, Legolas reached out for his father. Thranduil opened his arms and his son filled them. Father and son clung tightly to each other neither wishing to let go.

Finally, the king, still embracing his son, asked, “When do you sail?” Legolas gripped tighter but answered him. “Aragorn will be dead a year in March. The official time of mourning in Minas Tirith will be over and his son will be crowned. Young King Eldarion has asked that the last members of the Fellowship be there.

“Gimli has been asked to be his escort. In honor of my rank as Aragorn’s compeer and as an immortal, he asked me to place the crown on his head even as Mithrandir did his father. I have accepted… as has Gimli.

We will sail immediately afterwards . I do not wish to see another seated in Aragorn’s place.”

Legolas released his hold on his father then and looked at the elven king. “Will you ever sail? Will I see you again, Ada?”

Thranduil looked into the eyes of his son. He saw the fear there and the need. It was a look he had seen before. It was a look of hope hanging on the edge of despair. It was the look Legolas always had when he desperately wanted something or someone but was afraid to hope his wish would be granted.

In the past, whenever Legolas had that look, his father had eased his son’s fear and made his wish a reality. This time was no different.

Thranduil would sail. “Yes my son. I will sail… with you.” Thranduil watched as a wave of surprise swept over his son.

Legolas felt a source of pure joy well up inside of him as his father’s words sank in. Without thinking, Legolas grabbed his father about the waist and swung him around in a spin, laughter ringing from him as he did so.

Suddenly realizing whom he was twirling, the prince sat the king down and quickly bowed an apology. Thranduil roared with laughter and embraced his son in another fierce hug. “Come my son, there is much we must plan for… and many things to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In March, Thranduil watched Legolas as the crown was lowered on the head of the young human who looked like a wondrous blend of Aragorn and Elrond.

Legolas stood silently as the new king sang the ancient words of Elendil. Then he and Gimli came and stood at the foot of the stairs to the citadel.

This was the queue all members of the Firstborn had been waiting for. Thranduil, Celeborn, and the twin Princes of Imladris walked up behind Legolas and Gimli. They started to bow but the king raised his hand and said. “My friends, the Firstborn bow to no one.” He then bowed deeply, as did all there.

Legolas reached down and raised the son of his best friend to his feet. He drew the man into a mighty embrace and kissed his brow much as a father would a beloved child.

Eldarion looked at Legolas and then at Celeborn and his mother’s brothers and said so all could hear, “White shores are calling the last remnant of the Firstborn away out of this world. I thank the Valar daily for allowing me the chance to know… and love… such a noble people.” Then with tears welling in his eyes, the king placed his hand on his heart as he said, “Namarie, safe journey to a golden sunrise.”

At this, a great choir of the people of Minas Tirith began to sing a lilting and ancient hymn of the Firstborn… the Lay of Elbereth. From every level of the city, sweet voices sang in tribute to the last elves of Middle Earth.

Legolas smiled, emotions welling up within. Returning the salute, he turned and led his people out of the citadel, through the seven tiers, to the waiting grey ships anchored in the River Anduin.

The people sang as the elves boarded. Legolas waited beside the gangway as everyone went aboard. Then he, the last elf, went aboard. The moment his foot left Middle Earth, the singing stopped.

The elves looked at the city and saw that on every level every last place on the walls was crowded with people standing silently… waiting. A soft sound whispered to the elven ears aboard the ships…the sound of many people quietly weeping.

Legolas went and stood on the prow of the first ship. He raised his hand in final salute to the Man on the topmost tier of the city. The salute was returned as Legolas faced into the westing sun.

Thranduil looked up just as the sails were unfurled. On the topsail was embroidered an elven bow and arrow, and on the mainsail was two oak leaves and an acorn. Thranduil looked at his tall silver companion and questioned him about the ship.

Celeborn smiled. “A gift from Aragorn to Legolas.”

Thranduil asked, “What is the ship’s name?”

The Lord of Lothlorien responded. ” Eldarion asked Legolas what name the ship would bear and when Legolas said he had not thought to name it. Eldarion asked if he could. Legolas gave his consent.”

Thranduil looked again at the ship. On the prow around the proud swan’s neck was a wreath of oak leaves and acorns. Along the railings were carved oak leaves. Each spindle ended in a carved acorn and emblazoned upon the hatch and gangway door was an oak tree. “What did the king name her?”

Celeborn nodded toward the prow. There Legolas stood tall and proud sheathed in golden light. “My great grandson said that the ship was named in honor of the being that his father and the free people of Middle Earth loved best next to the Valar themselves. He named this ship The Golden Archer.”

THE END