Wild Monster

by Matthew Harrington

  "It is indeed a strange pastime for one born into a family of Silvan warriors, but that does not bother me. My readings have held me in good stead for my training as a warrior, however much that might seem strange."

  "No, no, I can see that," said Elrond, before Glorfindel spoke.

  "You may be good with strategy," he suggested.

  "Yes - I am an above average student in that field, my Lord, although it is Hwindohtar here who truly excels," he said, his eyes moving to the slumbering elf, a hint of worry behind his young blue eyes.

  "Has he always been precocious?" asked Mithrandir.

  "Oh yes, my Lord. Fighting comes naturally to him, as does leadership. What you have seen of him upon the fields so far, my Lord Glorfindel, is nothing, in comparison to what he is capable of."

  "I know he is good, Idhrenohtar. I can see potential when I have it before me, but he must still have many things to learn," said Glorfindel evenly, still nibbling on his chicken bone.

  "He holds back, my Lord. He does not wish to draw attention to himself, for to do so in the past often brought him strife," said Idhreno carefully.

  "Oh?" asked Elrond.

  "Indeed, not all the children were accepting of one so clearly above them in so many things. It was mine and Ram en Ondo's self-appointed duty to protect him from those that would hurt him."

  "He was bullied, then?"

  "In a sense, and for a while. Not physically but the names they called him cut him like a knife, my Lord - you can imagine the specifics, of course," he said quietly.

  "Indeed," muttered Elrond as he wiped his hands on his serviette.

  It was then, that Legolas stretched a leg and twisted onto his back, his slumber only slowly ending. He took a deep breath and then opened his eyes.

  Mithrandir stood over him, with Elrond and Glorfiindel at his shoulders. Idhreno, as he had promised, stayed out of the way, albeit he missed nothing of what transpired.

  "Legolas," called the wizard, addressing the young elf for the first time, aware that the child would not know who he was, but when his own blue eyes first beheld the slanted green eyes of the Silvan, he could not help but startle.

  "My lady is capricious," he muttered as if to himself, but it had been loud enough for Glorfindel to hear, and to understand.

  Legolas' eyes locked with those of the wizard, and there they stayed for longer than strictly necessary, before he spoke, quietly and evenly.

  "Who are you?" he asked simply.

  "I, am Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim, Gandalf, if you prefer," he said.

  Legolas continued to stare at the old man, before he nodded, and then pushed himself up and leaned against the cushions behind him, his face rested and apparently serene.

  "Legolas," asked Elrond, "how are you feeling?" he asked. "Are you hungry?"

  "I am well, my Lord. I need nothing," he added, his voice soft and his eyes distant, only half present and perhaps that was, indeed, the case, thought Idhrenohtar.

  "What can you tell us, child, of what happened in the forest?" asked Mithrandir matter-of-factly as he turned to the window.

  "Nothing - for the moment," said Legolas in the same monotonous voice, a voice that seemed deeper to Idhrenohtar than it had been before.

  "It is of vital importance that you tell us, child, if I am to help you with this - gift," he said, somewhat indignant it seemed, that Legolas had refused to speak.

  "As I said, Mithrandir," he paused for a moment, his gaze steady and confident, "I will not speak of it for the moment. I wish for silence, and solitude, nothing more," he said levelly, and the Wise Warrior was proud of a sudden, that his friend should be so even tempered, so - authoritative - with such venerable lords that sought to push him into speaking.

  "Silence and solitude," came the gruff voice. "Elrond, perhaps you can speak some sense into the boy," said the wizard in irritation as he walked out onto the balcony and tapped his clay pipe upon the hand rail before him.

  Elrond stepped forward, and Legolas laid his eyes upon the lord, and if the Noldo had been about to speak, he thought better of it, for the green eyes of the Silvan were not welcoming, indeed they were bold and challenging. With a curt nod, he finally said, "eat something, Legolas," and then turned away to join Mithrandir on the balcony.

  Collecting his feet below him, he slowly rose from the couch and turned to Idhrenohtar. "Can you find me a tunic, brother?"

  Idhreno smiled, and then wider when it was softly returned, before leaving the room in search of something for his half-naked friend to wear.

  Legolas turned then to Glorfindel who, as yet, had not spoken, indeed he sat cross-legged, staring at Legolas expectantly.

  "They mean well, Legolas."

  "I know. But I am not willing to speak of it. When I need to, I will - but not yet," he said again and Glorfindel's brows twitched as he observed the changes that had been wrought in him, wondering if they were extensive to his mind, for the boy seemed older some how, more mature, more confident.

  "What will you do now?" asked Glorfindel, still watching Legolas closely, the play of his corded muscles as he reached for his boots.

  "I would continue with my training, my Lord. I hope that will not change for I have much to learn from you," he said as he pulled the soft leather over his feet.

  "Do you?" asked Glorfindel, drawing Legolas' attention to him once more. "Idhrenohtar says you hold back - afraid to stand out amongst the others," he said, watching his friend for a reaction.

  "That was before, my Lord. I will not do that again and still - I say I have much to learn - that, and the Qalma Liltie, if you are still amenable."

  Just then, Idhrenohtar returned with a blue suede tunic which Legolas slipped on over his black breeches, but his hair was trapped inside it, and try as he might, he could not free it.

  "Here, let me help you with this -Lainion is going to have a fit," muttered the Wise Warrior, but Legolas did not laugh as he had expected, rather he smiled a sad smile and sat, his eyes distant once more.

  "How can I braid this," he muttered again, but Legolas did not answer, for he was once again, far far away.

  Minutes later, Elrond and Mithrandir watched as the strange Silvan elf walking into the gardens with his friends in tow, but there was one dark-haired elf amongst them - Elladan.

  "Your son walks with them," commented Mithrandir as he puffed on his pipe.

  "Aye," said Elrond pensively. "They are becoming good friends; Elladan has decided on a path, it seems."

  "And what path is that?" asked Mithrandir, and Elrond could not tell if he already knew the answer to that question.

  "The path of a warrior - and a healer."

  "Is that all?" asked the wizard again and this time, Elrond knew he held back.

  "Perhaps not," was all he said. But to give voice to what he suspected was to bring that eventuality to light, and that was not something Elrond wished to contemplate, not just yet.

  For the next full day, Legolas simply sat in Celebrian's gardens, at the base of the winter blooming sentinel.

  Some distance away, Elladan and The Company sat together in quiet conversation, one eye on each other and the other on Legolas. He seemed peaceful enough, indeed sometimes he even smiled, moving his head this way or that, as if he were listening to something others could not hear, indeed Elladan did not doubt that was exactly the case.

  They would not intrude, would not push him into speaking of what had happened deep in the forest; they knew him well enough to know that he would not be forced, that he would speak in his own time, indeed he had refused to talk even to Mithrandir and Elrond.

  Yet some things did not need to be given voice, for they were obvious enough to any who looked closely enough. Those four days had been life changing for Legolas. Whatever had happened had been enough to take away the last vestiges of childhood innocence, and in its absence, plant the seeds of a greater wisdom. It had lent him peace, it seemed, calm serenity, the kind of aura his father was capable of emitting,
or indeed Galadriel herself.

  There was a common denominator, Elladan was sure, yet he would not venture to understand the nature of it, not until Legolas spoke, if he ever did.

  That night, when they had all gone their separate ways, Elladan made his way to his father's rooms. He found him sitting before a single candle upon the table, the Greenwood scroll before him, as yet untouched.

  "May I join you?" asked Elladan, watching his father closely.

  "Of course. I was about to read the missive from Thranduil," said the lord somewhat distractedly.

  "Would you prefer I leave?" asked Elladan, hoping his father would allow him to stay.

  "No, stay. But speak not of it, Elladan, whatever is contained in these lines - not until our council."

  "Alright," agreed Elladan, settling into a chair and watching as his father slowly reached for the scroll and broke the seal with a crunch of wax that seemed overly loud to Elladan.

  Pulling the curled edges apart, Elrond's light grey eyes began to dance over the parchment, and Elladan followed them, as if he could, perhaps, read his father's emotions, discern the contents of the letter on the strength of his expressions. But alas he could not and so he waited with baited breath until Elrond's eyes left the page and he looked squarely at Elladan.

  "He is recognising his son. He is announcing his existence to The Greenwood even as we speak…"

  Elladan was stunned, unsure of what to say, and as the information slowly sunk into his sluggish mind, a cautious smile broke out on his face. Could it be that simple, he wondered?

  "A third prince then?" asked Elladan.

  "No. Not a Prince, for he was born outside wedlock - it would not be acceptable. He says no more for the moment and I can only guess he wishes to gauge the reaction of his subjects before he takes any official action."

  "Understandable," muttered Elladan, but the smile had not left his face and he suddenly wished he hadn't promised his father to remain silent, for there was nothing he wanted more now than to run to his new friend and wipe away the days of anxiety, the unbearable uncertainty he had suffered, not knowing if he was to be loved or repudiated."

  "Elladan. Not a word. We do not know what the other missives contain - Legolas has one, too."

  Elladan stared at his father, and then nodded. He was right, for who could guess what the king would say to the son he did not know?

  Some corridors away, Handir sat in the privacy of his rooms, a scroll open upon his lap and a satisfied smile upon his face. A sudden wave of respect washed over him, for his father and his courage, in spite of the opposition he knew this decision would bring him. He was torn then, between finishing his education with Erestor, and flying back to the Greenwood, for he would be needed. Yet Aradan was there, and three months was not so long, and so, with a determined breath, he resolved to learn all he could from Erestor, and then return home and begin what had become the reason for his own existence. Restore Greenwood the Great to the cosmopolitan society it had once been, where peace and justice reigned over intolerance and racism.

  Legolas sat cross-legged upon his bed, within the new suite of rooms he had been assigned, much to his own chagrin, for he was no lord, no prince to be given such deference. He was a warrior, with no rank or title and he was happy with that.

  The scroll lay before him upon the white sheets, as yet unopened, and thus it had been for the past hour when he had retired for the evening and refused all offers of company. He needed solitude, for his mind was simply saturated with things he desperately needed to think on, to assimilate, to understand. Aye he knew they worried for him - The Company - for even now they sat under the cold winter moon outside, drinking wine and talking - of him no doubt. He could not blame them for that, for who could have foreseen that an insignificant provocation of his gift would trigger such a transcendental event - one he could not speak of - for where to start? The thought brought a chuckle of exasperation to his throat, and then he looked at the scroll once more.

  What was one scroll now, to one that had seen things he had never thought to see in all the millennia of his life - even if it had been in dreams - if that is what they had been. Indeed of a sudden, Legolas understood that this missive was the last stone upon his road forward, the only thing that separated him from peace, at last, the last stone that would fit into the puzzle that had been his life until just days ago.

  His hand reached for the yellow parchment and his eyes studied the seal - the royal seal of the House of Oropher…

  With a steadying breath and an unsteady hand, he cracked the wax and pulled the scroll open, where graceful Tengwar sprawled out before him - the hand of his father, words that had come from his heart, that would seal his destiny.

  "I am sorry - sorry that I worried you, that was never my intention," said Legolas as he sat amongst The Company. "Do not deny it, brothers; I have seen it, just as I have seen your resentment of Lord Elrond and Mithrandir for not allowing you to see me.

  "What right did they have to bar those closest to you? After an ordeal such as the one you have lived through? Surely you needed the company of friends, not intrusive lords and wizards that would interrogate you err you even opened your eyes!" finished Ram en, now having thoroughly riled himself.

  And he was not alone, and Legolas watched them as one by one, they added their own thoughts and comments and when they had finished, and still, Legolas did not speak, they simply stared at him in curious silence.

  "I understand you, and I understand them - brothers," he said as he leant forward. "But do not underestimate what has transpired here," he began carefully, watching as their expressions changed from indignant to concerned.

  "I cannot speak of it all - but I must tell you the short of it, for it will affect us all, and there are decisions you must make as individuals…"

  They did not speak, did not move, they simply stared, still oblivious to the significance of Legolas' experience.

  "My gift," he began, his eyes moving over them all. "I was not born with it - it was given to me or rather, I was chosen - for a purpose…"

  Legolas understood their baffled expressions, their confused silence for his own words had seemed strangely impossible. Chosen, he had said …

  "I cannot disclose that purpose entirely, for I do not understand it myself. But a large part of it is to defend the work of Yavanna, protect the forests and the people that live within. You may ask," he continued, "what difference there is between this purpose and that which I have always wanted to achieve, and the answer would be nothing - nothing at all. If I was chosen for this it is because this was always my aim in life, in spite of the Valar and their wishes. I know there is more to it, and the lords know that too, but for now and for me, it is enough."

  "And so, why do you deem this so significant?" asked Rhrawthir in puzzlement, "if it changes nothing."

  "But it does, brother. My purpose must not be impeded by land or lord, Rhrawthir. I must answer to no one in my efforts, save to she who commands me…"

  The Company sat in dawning understanding, but kept their silence as Legolas elaborated.

  "The point being, that I must somehow gain my freedom, freedom to act where and when necessary. Now I am not a liberty to decide over my own wanderings, for I am a warrior of King Thranduil's militia and although I do not want that to change, I must garner my king's understanding of this, my calling. I must try to secure for myself a position in which I may continue to serve the Greenwood and my Lady and thus, fulfil that which I have been charged with."

  "But you are not even a lieutenant yet, Legolas. How can you possibly hope to achieve this?" asked Ram en Ondo.

  "With time, I can only hope, Ram en. I understand this will not happen now. I am limited by my own inexperience, but neither can I stand by idly. I will talk with my King no sooner we return."

  "You will speak with - your father?" asked Lindohtar in shock.

  "Yes. That is inevitable as I now know, for I am summoned to his presence no sooner we retu
rn to The Greenwood."

  "And you are - alright with this?" asked Idhrenohtar slowly.

  "I will not say I am not - apprehensive. Indeed that inevitable moment weighs heavily on my chest. The thought of meeting the one I thought dead, or exiled. Meeting my father, the one that created me for the sole purpose of giving life to his lover…" he broke off, his mind shouting at him to be angry, and yet he could not. For the first time in his life, Legolas spoke of his father without that all too familiar pain of abandonment, the self-pity and resentment. It had left him, and in its wake there was only quiet acceptance.

  "But I cannot avoid it for he is king and I - have a purpose. I must not be swayed from it, in spite of my own emotions."

  "And you think that is going to be easy? asked Lainion, somewhat irked it seemed, at Legolas' submission to Yavanna's will.

  "No. I know it will not be and that brings me to the point. You all have a decision to make…"

  "Speak it," said Idhrenohtar.

  "My plan, is to create a group of trusted warriors that would ride with me, wherever we are needed, wherever the forest cries or her people suffer. I would have The Company with me, the best warriors the Greenwood has. Ten elves under the command of the King himself, but with the explicit permission to heed the call of the trees, even against his own wishes."

  Silence ensued and was not quick to disappear as each member of The Company processed the information Legolas had so clearly and convincingly laid before them.

  "I have always been by your side, Legolas - I will not change that now, or ever. The cause is noble and I, Idhrenohtar, will serve with no one else save with you," said Idhrenohtar, standing tall and proud and Legolas slowly rose to meet him, a soft smile spreading over his lovely face. Before long, Ram en Ondo, Lindohtar, Rhrawthir and finally Dimaethor, did likewise and when all five warriors had sworn their allegiance, for the first time they bowed as they would to a lord, because from now on, that is what Legolas was to them. He had no rank, no title, no surname, and yet Yavanna had charged him with a purpose, had deemed him fit to carry out her will. The Company would do no less, and neither would they suffer others to gainsay his claim to leadership now.