Wild Monster

by Matthew Harrington

  He held their stares, his eyes bright and wide, passion behind his words and in his expression. He truly believed what he said, and Narosén, unsurprisingly, was the first to comment.

  "I agree - it is easy for us to claim this celebration as our own, as a triumph of the Silvan people, but the truth is that this is a nationwide event, one that affects us all. If we march in there as Silvans, bidding the Sindar behold us in all our glory, we will gain more enemies than allies."

  "Precisely," continued Legolas. "What I propose, is for us, the Silvan people, to carry out our ceremony, to march to the fortress and yes - show the court who we are, show them our culture and our beliefs, our dances and our music, show them our greatness and - show them that we embrace the Sindarin and Avarin cultures. I would have Koron en' Naur, a Sindarin warrior, bear their flag as we enter, and I would have Dorwon carry the Avarin flag. I want a Sindarin plait in my hair for I am half Sindarin, and the locks upon my crown will tell them my brother was Avarin. Do you see my point? he asked earnestly. "We need to show them we add our culture, as a marvellous addition to their own, Sindarin culture, show them we are stronger when we come together."

  There was utter silence for long moments and Legolas let them think. He had spoken his mind and truth be told, should they disagree with him now, he would not back down. He knew he was right, there were no doubts in his mind.

  "For an elf with no training in statesmanship, you are not bad at it at all," said Erthoron quietly. "It is easy to be blinded to the perspective of those that have ignored your own for so long - instinct almost. It irks me, but you are right. That they made that mistake centuries ago, does not mean the Silvans should make the same mistake. We are wise, and we have the benefit of hindsight. But make no mistake," he said as he leaned forward. "Tomorrow, we show them what they cast aside, we show them our might, our strength, that without us they cannot endure. We show them our art, our music and dance, our rites and our beliefs and by doing so we tell them, no demand of them, that they ignore us no more, for we will not allow it. If you can promise me that, Legolas, then I will agree to your requests."

  Legolas stared back at Erthoron, the elf who had been assigned as spokesperson for the Silvan people, along with Lorthil, but he wondered at his authority to command Legolas on this question. Wisely though, he chose to remain silent and simply nodded, but Narosén was perceptive indeed - he had not missed the hesitation.

  "Well, I for one, do not see it as a concession in any way," said Golloron. It does not change our plans, and if we gain the favour of the Sindar by doing this, then that is in our benefit."

  "Yes," said Legolas carefully, "but I happen to agree with it, Golloron. I truly believe what I say. We are one of three cultures - let us not threaten the others by imposing our own, over theirs for that will never work."

  "No, no it would not," forgive me, he said.

  Erthoron watched Legolas as he stood and moved to his pallet, in search of something, and then turned back to Lorthil, Golloron and Narosén, who returned his gaze with an intensity that was unnerving.

  "I am taking a break, my friends. Is there anything else of import we must speak of?" he asked, not oblivious to the strange mood that had taken them.

  "No, I believe we have discussed the essentials," said Erthoron quietly, and so, Legolas nodded to them, and then left the tent and the four quiet Silvans, still sitting at the paper-strewn table.

  "He is right," said Narosén, "and he is no pawn, Erthoron. He is a leader, a natural one, and tomorrow, he will truly be one. Let us be his council, as he will be ours."

  "I do not mean to command him, my friends, at least not in a bad way. I have, perhaps erred in that I overestimated the limitations of his age and inexperience. He is wiser than I expected him to be."

  "He will represent us well, Erthoron," said Narosén with a smile now, however much his strange eyes burned with the fire of one who believes something passionately. "Tomorrow - everyone will want to be Silvan," he said as his eyes widened and his smile became a laugh.

  Legolas stood outside the tent that had been assigned to the Company, arms crossed and laughing as he watched Koron en' Naur teaching Ram en' Ondo one of the more stately Sindarin dances, and as they toiled, Rhawthir and Lindohtar were coaching a flustered Elladan and Melven on the finer points of Silvan reels.

  "How are you going to impress your Silver Princess if you cannot dance a reel!' they exclaimed, and Legolas laughed again at the sour look on Elladan's face.

  "Look, Hwindo here," said Lindo pointing towards the laughing Legolas, "is an expert on Silvan dances - nobody! - he shouted - dances a jig like he does!"

  "Yes well, he is Silvan and I am Noldo you stupid bard, I cannot get my legs to kick out like that so fast - I will make a fool of myself!" he moaned.

  And on they went, practicing and laughing and moaning, and Legolas sat, retrieving his diary from his pack and rummaging for a moment for his charcoal. Staring at the next blank page, his head tilted slightly to one side and then he smiled. Raising his hand, he began to trace the lines of an elven woman. A stroke here, and then there, the fall of her hair and the shape of her jaw. The outline of her big blue eyes and the mischievous expression that ever resided behind them. When he had finished the simple drawing, he scribbled beneath it; Llyniel Aradaneth.

  "That is the healer we met on our arrival," said Glamohtar from over his shoulder.

  "Yes. I will ask her father to allow me to escort her, after the protocol is done with," he said.

  "Oh? You fancy her then?" he asked blithely as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  Legolas tilted his head up towards Glamohtar and then smiled, wide and naughty. "Oh yes," he said and Melven chuckled.

  "Love is in the air," he smiled, and then walked back to the improvised dancing lesson.

  A momentary lull in the noise, heralded the arrival of Handir, who nodded at Legolas.

  "Brother," he smiled and Legolas stood, smiling back as he nodded respectfully.

  "We were wondering if you would join us at the fortress - Maeneth is eager to meet you," he said lightly, his eyes lingering on his brother's and then slipping to his damaged cheek.

  "I do not wish to intrude," said Legolas defensively as he put his diary away and turned back to Handir.

  "You would hardly be intruding Legolas. The Princess has requested your presence, he said pointedly, you are a welcome guest.

  "I hardly think Rinion would agree with you," he laughed humourlessly.

  "You may be surprised," said Handir. "Come, make yourself presentable and join us. I will have you back before nightfall, else your Silvan brethren slit my throat for interfering with their plans," he smiled wryly.

  "Oh? Have they said something then? he asked as he donned his green tunic and smoothed it down, and then collected his Avarin locks and secured them upon his head.

  "Erthoron said simply that you were very busy- but his eyes said more," he snorted and Legolas smiled.

  Taking only a dagger which he slipped into his belt, the two brothers left the Company, bound for the fortress.

  "You are limping," stated Handir.

  "Yes - just a bruise from yesterday.

  "What happened?" he asked, slowing his pace.

  "I tackled an archer, a new move I have not quite mastered. The landing was - painful," he scowled and then grinned.

  "You best take care of it, otherwise you will miss out on all those Silvan jigs," he smiled and Legolas turned to look at his brother, searching his eyes in curiosity. "You are passing happy today," he said softly.

  Handir smiled and then looked to the floor for a moment. "Yes, you could say that Legolas. The tragedy of our past is coming to an end. The wounds are closing and forgiveness is in the air. You started it, Maeneth will finish it I wager…"

  Legolas smiled but it was a careful smile and Handir knew he did not quite believe him, or perhaps he was afraid to.

  They were close to the main gates now, and soon they would be in
side, and under the scrutiny of the Sindar once more.

  "Handir, before we go in, a question if I may…"

  "What is it?" he asked.

  Legolas grinned. "I have struck up a - friendship - with a healer, Llyniel."

  "Aradan's daughter?" he asked in surprise.

  "Yes. It is nothing serious, brother, just a little harmless - flirting," he scowled and Handir grinned. "The question is, I asked her to accompany me for the celebration. She told me to ask her father…"

  "Then ask him, Legolas. He is a good man, married to a noble Silvan lady who has been rooting for you from the beginning - she will be ecstatic - she will not allow Aradan to refuse, believe me," he said slyly and Legolas smiled.

  "Good, very good," he said, and then straightened his back and pretended his hip did not ache at all. Handir watched him and then shook his head fondly.

  The doors to Thranduil's private chambers opened, revealing the King, together with Mithrandir, Glorfindel and Aradan himself.

  "Ah, Legolas," said Thranduil, standing. "How are you? I heard you took a fall…"

  "Oh ah, of a sort, my King, 'tis nothing at all," he smiled and Thranduil's left eyebrow rose in disbelief. He said nothing though and allowed Glorfindel a moment to greet his son.

  "Glorfindel, he smiled genuinely and the golden warrior smiled back, and then scowled. "You are always getting smashed in the face, he tutted, and Handir snorted. "He reckons it's because everyone is jealous of his good looks," he chuckled and Mithrandir guffawed. "Modest, aren't we!" he grinned.

  "How are the preparations going, Lord Legolas," asked Aradan.

  "Well, my Lord. Everything is ready, it is all done," he said more quietly now.

  "Rinion and Maeneth are in the Royal gardens, Handir, perhaps you would take Legolas and join them?"

  "Of course father," replied Handir, turning to Legolas, his eyes momentarily slipping to Aradan.

  "Ah, yes eh, Lord Aradan, I was wondering," began Legolas.

  "Yes, my Lord?" asked Aradan in curiosity.

  "I was wondering if you would allow me to - to escort your daughter Llyniel for the celebrations?"

  There was a thick silence and Legolas felt like hiding his head behind his hands; but he was a warrior, he would not do that.

  Both Thranduil's eyebrows rose this time, and Glorfindel beamed proudly at his adoptive son.

  "As your - companion," asked Aradan.

  "Yes - once the protocol is over - for the feasting and the dancing."

  "Well, it is most correct of you to ask me. It is proper of course, and as her mother is Silvan, she will want to consent before I can allow it. I will send word, my Lord."

  Legolas was disappointed that he had not given his permission outright, but he understood and so he simply nodded. It was the Silvan way to ask both parents for consent.

  "I thank you though, for your regard. It is a great honour," he added and Legolas stared dumbfounded for a moment, before smiling and nodding once more.

  "The Court will be in an uproar; four royal children - all eligible - it promises to be an interesting evening," said Mithrandir.

  The two brothers shared a mischievous glance, and then took their leave, bound for the gardens, and once they had left, Thranduil turned to his guests.

  "It is now or never, my friends…"

  "I still cannot believe it, Rinion. Bandorion is dead…." she whispered as she walked beside her brother in the Royal Gardens.

  "I always wondered," began Rinion carefully, "how much you were aware of when it happened, when you were sent away, I mean."

  "I was glad of it, Rinion, even though it ripped me from your side. You were angry, so very bitter, father was absent and Handir seemed oblivious, and as for Bandorion, he frightened me, brother, and I know he frightened mother too. But that is all I know."

  Rinion nodded, taking the time to look around him, notice the details he had not bothered to see in many years. He had slept so very deeply the previous night, as if he had been injured and was convalescing and this morning, he had woken with a levity he could no longer remember having felt.

  "He broke, Maeneth, his mind shattered and he lost himself in madness. You should have seen him, for he raved and he screamed for Baudh Gwaith. Poor Legolas did not know what he was letting himself in for, even though father warned him he did not have to accept."

  "He did not listen to his warning?"

  "No - but can you blame him? Bandorion murdered his mother, Maeneth. He taunted the boy with what he had done, called her slut before the entire court. He did what I myself would have done and even then, at the end, he hesitated."

  "He has a good heart…"

  "He saw himself in Barathon, I think, for he was there, watching. It was father that forced his hand and I for one, am glad that he did."

  "I believe the days of Baudh Gwaith should end, Rinion. What then, is justice for if we do not apply it in all circumstances, equally for everyone?"

  "Perhaps," conceded Rinion. But as with any law, until it is abolished it must be upheld, and if Baudh Gwaith is declared, the rule is to give death to the loser. Bandorion knew this and played his hand."

  "I understand that brother, and even had it not been declared, Legolas - and father, had many good reasons to do what they did. Even so, I will request that the law be discussed by the Permanent Council, perhaps Handir will bring it to them…"

  "You have been back for one day and you are already planning and scheming," smiled Rinion proudly.

  "I must earn my position, Rinion. Every day I am called Princess, I must earn that right, as must we all," she said seriously and Rinion considered her words quietly.

  "Speaking of Legolas," said Maeneth, "yesterday must have been hard for him, watching from the sidelines as his family was reunited."

  "I know. You will like him, I think," said Rinion, almost as an afterthought .

  "And you do not?" she asked gently.

  "I have not - but- for the wrong reasons, sister. I did to him what I did to father. I vented my bitterness, my hatred upon him. Every day I thought of him or saw him, was another day I was reminded of mother's departure, of your departure, of my loneliness, my grief - my weakness," he spat.

  "That is the source, isn't it, brother? Your suffering you see as weakness and it angers you and so, you find a way to vent that anger, a satisfying way and the only way to do that, is to provoke those that love you, or that look up to you because that way - you can see the hurt in their eyes, and not your own… It is a way for you to remember that you are not the only one to suffer…"

  Rinion stared back at her with wide eyes. How she could know him so well was beyond him; she was perceptive and intuitive beyond any elf he knew, save for his father, in spite of her tender age. His mind rebelled against what she had said; it surely could not be true and yet, it felt true and he no longer had the strength to fight against it.

  "Yes - I believe that is the short of it," he murmured.

  "You are strong, Rinion, you always have been, and to feel - to really feel, is not weakness, it is strength for in the depth of that emotion, comes passion for life, vocation to service, a true desire to make a difference to our people, to our land…"

  "Yes - perhaps," he considered, and then he turned with a determined glint in his eye. "I must speak to the child, Maeneth, but I do not want to make the same mistakes - stay with me when I do, keep me on the right path?"

  "I will, brother, I always will."

  Rinion smiled and relaxed a little, but he was tense again as he spotted his two brothers approaching them. Instead of standing, Rinion gestured for them to join them upon the well-kept grass where they sat, close to a rose bush with no roses.

  "Legolas, the Silvan, Hwindohtar, Warlord - whatever do I call you?" asked Maeneth with a smile as her eyes roved over his face.

  "Whatever you wish, my Lady."

  "You could just call him 'fool' like Rinion does," smirked Handir.

  "Rinion calls everyone 'fool' Han
dir," she said before turning to Legolas once more. "Just call me Maeneth, Legolas."

  She was watching him closely, too closely for comfort but then she watched him too, and truth be told, Rinion was glad of it, she would keep him focussed, she had promised.

  "I have heard much spoken of you," she began. "Most of it good," she added.

  "Most of it?" echoed Legolas.

  "There are those here at court, the minority mind you, who do not approve of your presence - but this you already knew, of course."

  "Yes - I knew, Maeneth. I do not think that will easily change. Perhaps I may temper it, prove myself to them and in time, perhaps I will at least, gain their respect."

  "Oh I think you have their respect already, Legolas. It is not as bad as you may think, at least that is the impression I get. Barathon, however, may be difficult, indeed his fate is, as yet undecided."

  Legolas' face paled a little at the mention of Barathon, and Rinion was reminded of that tragic moment, one he had not consciously analysed at the time albeit his brain had registered the images. It had been panic he had seen on his brother's face as his hand hovered over his great uncle's heart, eyes focussed on Barathon, panic because he had hesitated, because he had been unsure of the justice of his actions.

  "I have heard all about the Baudh Gwaith, Legolas. I do not judge you harshly - but Barathon surely will, said Maeneth softly.

  "He was placed under house arrest - what will happen to him?" asked Legolas.

  "Father will speak to him," said Rinion. "Find out his intentions, his attitude and then he may call council to decide on his future, decide whether or not he should be tried for conspiracy to commit treason - 'tis a serious offence."

  "Has he not suffered enough?" asked Legolas. "He lost his father - I killed him before his very eyes."

  "Yes you did," said Rinion. "But remember, Bandorion threatened to kill you, and should Barathon do the same, there will be no mercy for him, Baudh Gwaith or no. Now if you were to ask me what I would choose for him, then I would say that if he is repentant, that he should be given the chance to redeem himself. But if he persists in his prejudice against you, I say exile."