A roar of pure passion shattered the silence of the Greenwood and the king smiled, wide and genuine, and then he sat and watched as those closest to him looked at him as they once had, before everything had changed.
Music began once more and wine began to flow, the soft clink of cutlery as food was served, and soft conversation began, in spite of the powerful undercurrents of excitement and anticipation, for the night had only just begun.
Legolas observed Llyniel discreetly as he ate, and Elladan did likewise with Maeneth. Rinion watched them both and the king and Glorfindel smirked into their goblets. Yet Legolas' eyes still shone softly, the glow of his aura still unnaturally bright. The trees still sang and spoke, and amidst the quiet chaos, a single discordant note, although distant, continued to call out to him.
'Be at peace, Thranduil…'
Frowning as he listened, he tried to concentrate upon the soft whisper.
'I free you …'
He turned his head away from the conversation, feeling Narosén's eyes upon him but he could not break the connection lest he lose it, yet try as he might, he knew that if he continued, he would not be able to control it and so he mentally shook himself.
A hand upon his ornate vambrace - Narosén, his concerned gaze falling on him in silent question.
"A voice from the distance - from the other side…" he whispered and Narosén's eyes glistened in curiosity.
Legolas took a long sip of his wine, relishing for a moment the strong, heady aroma that snaked up into his nostrils and soothed his racing heart. He had not eaten much and perhaps that was just as well. There would be time enough once they returned to camp, where the real party would begin and he would be freer to be himself. He smirked mentally, wondering if Llyniel would be allowed to join him.
Elladan was talking animatedly with Handir, his eyes straying to the princess from time to time, while Mithrandir and Narosén had struck up a deep conversation on the properties of energy flow between trees, apparently oblivious to all else.
Maeneth spoke with Llyniel and with Rinion, but Legolas could see her veiled interest in Elladan, something that made him inordinately happy. Elladan had been given only temporary leave to ride in the Greenwood, and the thought of losing him, losing Rafnohtar left him with a hollow feeling. Elrond's eldest son had become irreplaceable, and his friendship with Maeneth was a promising whisper, that perhaps, with time, they would become closer - that Elladan would not have to leave.
"Legolas," came Mithrandir's deep voice. "Your eyes - if we may - Narosén and I were discussing the reason behind their - luminosity -," he said.
The question had drawn the attention of all that sat close enough to hear, including Llyniel, and Legolas knew he would need to be careful with what he said. Placing his fork carefully upon his plate, he turned his eyes to the side, searching for a way to describe it, one that would not sound too - far fetched, too close to the truth.
"I believe it is their light, a part of their aura seems to - connect - with mine, it is what allows me to understand them, and for them to understand me. Some of you have seen the full extent of it, unfortunately," he smiled ruefully, "and I believe that is due to the suddenness of it, the urgency of their voice, the amount of their essence that is needed to make me understand - do you follow?" he frowned, his eyes moving from Mithrandir to Narosén.
"I believe so," said Mithrandir with a brief glance at the Spirit Herder. "But go on…" urged the wizard, "why do they shine now - do they still speak?" he asked.
"Yes," smiled Legolas. "Can you not hear them, Narosén?" he asked and the Spirit Herder shook his head. "Not any more, not in here," he said sadly.
"They murmur and they sing, and sometimes they speak of people, and places. For now it is soft and distant, unintelligible unless I concentrate."
"'Tis magic," said Maeneth in wonder, but Legolas shook his head adamantly. "No, not magic, sister. It is physics - it is an exchange of energy I do not understand the details of, but it is not caused by incantations or spells. I am not a mage, I am a simple vessel through which they speak."
"Handy in a difficult situation," said Rinion with a smirk, and Legolas giggled. "Aye - but dangerous should I be mistaken for a demon of Morgoth, as Silor once called me," he smirked as he picked up his fork once more.
"I heard about that," said Rinion as he sipped his wine. "The fool is a base warrior once more."
"He had no leadership skills at all, brother, even I could see that," said Handir.
"Then it is just as well," muttered Rinion.
"I always thought… Legolas?" asked Elladan, interrupting whatever it was he was about to say, for his friend's gaze was off to the side once more, lost in the voice of the trees.
"I wonder, if you would excuse me, my Lords, for a brief time. There is something I must do. I will be back soon," he said softly, standing and bowing, and then walking from the Hall under the attentive gaze of the elves.
"Where does he go?" asked Aradan in puzzlement.
"He answers the call of the trees, my Lord. Thus is his duty, for one of his condition," explained Narosén.
"For one of his condition? What do you mean?" asked the councillor.
Narosén startled, realising that perhaps not all of them were aware of the source of Legolas' ability.
"For a listener, my Lord."
Aradan frowned, briefly glancing at his king, who simply shook his head almost imperceptibly, and Aradan did not insist, rather he stowed the information away. There was something he was not being told.
Legolas walked slowly through the corridors, passing ceremonial guards who stood to attention as he walked on. They would soon be relieved of their duty so that they could join in the festivities, indeed many of them were Silvan, their own families already in the thick of the celebrations they could clearly hear from where they stood.
On he walked, until he reached the door that led outside, and to the royal gardens.
Once outside, the voices grew louder, sharper, more intelligible as he walked to the place he had sat the day before together with his siblings, where the flowerless rose bush stood alone and barren.
Kneeling upon the lawn, his eyes latched onto the plant and he listened. It was a sad song, slow and melancholic that weaved its sorry tune around its roots, around stalks and stems and green leaves, strangling its fertility, stealing from it its natural vigour, its instinct to bloom neutralised by the paralysing sorrow that surrounded it.
An overwhelming pulse of grief washed over him and he closed his eyes in misery. Opening them again, he swiped irritatedly at a stray tear and then held out his hand to brush over the leaves, careful not to prick his skin on the spines.
'Thranduil…'
He gasped as the sound cut through his mind, sending a stab of pain to the back of his eyes, but he would not take his hand back - he had to know what it was - who it was that called out to the king.
He had an inkling of what would happen, for had it not been the same in Imladris, when he had felt the past and the future of the Lady Celebrian? He had given much thought to it, and the only plausible theory he had, was that the trees of Valinor were in contact with their brethren in Middle Earth. That a part of them shared a collective consciousness, even across the Sundering Sea.
'You are free, my love..' came the voice once more and the flash of a lovely face came to him.
'I free you of the bonds you never wanted…'
His blood froze and he shuddered - this was Aglareb, it was her emotions that came to him and they were overwhelming him, just as he had been overwhelmed in Imladris, yet this time, the element of surprise had gone, and Legolas tried to focus, to channel the barrage of thoughts and feelings he was receiving.
'I never wanted… I never knew…'
Legolas thought he would never know if these emotions were from the past, perhaps when she was still here, sitting before her favourite plant, pondering the tragedy of her existence, of her unrequited love - an echo of her sorrow. Or perha
ps they were thoughts from the present, from Valinor, when time may have healed her grief and given her a second chance.
Focussing his eyes once more upon the bush, he smiled sorrowfully.
'Would that I could know your fate…' he spoke to himself.
Breathing deeply, he stroked his ringed index finger over the stem one last time, for it was time to return lest Erthoron set the guards to find him. Standing, he smoothed out his silvan skirt, and then marvelled once more at the quality of the fabric, his eyes moving over the delicate embroidery around the edges of the leather overlay, and from the corner of his eye, a delicate pink rose blossomed in the blink of an eye.
Legolas turned to the bush once more, suddenly cold and breathless, for it was not one, single rose that had blossomed, but the entire bush.
He cried then, not in sorrow but in overwhelming awe, for the simplicity of it, for the power that had made it possible, for the message he understood without doubt. Aglareb was healed, and she had freed her husband of his bonds. She understood and should the king travel one day across the seas, he would be forgiven, and he would be free…
Walking slowly back down the corridors, he smiled as he listened to a merry Woodland tune that was being played - the dancing had begun and his step quickened. As he passed one of the many ceremonial guards standing to attention, he could have sworn he saw an armoured boot tap to the beat, but as his eyes locked with the guard in question, he could not detect the slightest hint of movement, for the warrior stood stock still, eyes to the fore and Legolas frowned, before he smirked, and then walked away, back towards the hall, the soft tap of a booted foot echoing mischievously behind him.
Elves were dancing in the centre of the Great Hall, smiling and laughing as they turned and bowed and floated in elegant circles. It was civilised and galant - a Sindarin rendering of a Silvan jig. Well, it was time to show them, perhaps, how the deep Silvans danced a reel - but first…
"Ah, you are back," said Thranduil with a smile, his eyes lingering on those of his son and Legolas was suddenly uncomfortable, as if his father could read his mind. He knew he could not, but he felt - vulnerable.
Sitting, he reached for his wine and drank, his eyes catching the sideways glances of his table companions. It was providence that precisely at that moment, a single fiddle began to play the introduction to one of the Silvan's most beloved reels. Now was the time to put this blasted skirt to the test, he thought with a winning smile.
Turning to Elladan, his face full of mischief and his eyes sparking, he uttered the words he knew his friend had been dreading all evening. "It is time, Noldo, to show us what you have learned!"
Elladan paled, a look of utter panic spreading over his face.
"I am not Silvan!"
"So?" snorted Legolas.
"I do not know how to dance this!"
"Follow us!" he said as he pulled Elladan from his chair and those at the table chuckled.
The rest of The Company were approaching now, straightening their tunics as their eyes searched the crowds for a suitable companion.
"Ready brothers? Shall we dance this the Lland Galadh way?" he shouted merrily.
"Aye!" they cheered and so, as the fiddle wound through the introductory notes, each elf came to stand before their intended partner. Legolas was before Llyniel, who still sat and smiled, and Elladan resisted the urge to close his eyes as he stepped before Maeneth, whose eyes were wide with surprise, and Rinion's had almost disappeared into glittering slits. As for Glorfindel, he smirked as he watched, wondering if the Princess would accept, and further away, the March Warden of Lorien changed his course and then stood before Mentathiel. The Spirit Singer startled, not having expected to be invited to dance with the handsome March Warden, but soon enough she smiled her acceptance, and Haldir, with one last, fond gaze upon Maeneth, turned his full attention to the enticing Avarin.
The music suddenly exploded and the lads of The Company began to jig before their wide-eyed partners, feet tapping here and there, their hair bouncing up and down upon their shoulders, or in Legolas' case around his silk and leather-clad waist.
Aradan watched in fascination, as Glorfindel simply guffawed, for the dance was daring and it was primal. Rinion leered at Elladan and Mithrandir chuckled together with Narosén. As for Erthoron, he looked on proudly, for the Reel of Lland Galadh was famous throughout the forest, especially when Legolas danced it. He just hoped that skirt would not let the boy down.
The introduction came to a close and Llyniel stood and then curtseyed, before holding her hand out. Elladan jigged as he panicked, watching Legolas' every move and mirroring it, and then almost crying in relief as Maeneth stood and the onlookers gasped, something that made Glorfiindel laugh all the louder.
The Warlord pulled on Llyniel's arm and towards him, escorting her out to the centre of the floor as they softly jigged together, joining the rest of The Company and the other Silvan elves brave enough to dance this reel. Elladan finally joined them, and although a little clumsy, was managing to hold his own - but what was priceless to his brother's of the Company, was that the panic had gone and in its place, was boyish glee, for his princess had accepted the dance and he no longer seemed to care that he would get it wrong.
Legolas nodded approvingly at him, and then turned to Llyniel.
"Can you dance this the Lland Galadh way?" he asked, the sparkle of challenge in his eye.
"Oh yes - do your worst, Warlord! she shouted cockily, but the shout turned into a long drawn-out scream as he suddenly encircled her waist and spun around the floor to the now fully-fledged reel.
Elladan's rendering of the dance was much more civilised, but the moves were correct, and Maeneth smiled. "You are doing well, my Lord!" she shouted over the din.
"I picked up more than I thought!" he shouted back, concentrating on his foot movements.
Legolas laughed, carefree for the first time in more than a year as he flung Llyniel into the dance once more.
The crowds stood and moved to the sidelines, watching the merriment, while the Silvans whistled and yipped as they clapped their hands and stomped their feet to the ever increasing rhythm and the dancers strived to keep up with it.
"Go Hwindohtar!!" shouted Ram en' Ondo, and go he did. The music broke off into a single fiddler and the males and females danced away from each other, the females lifting their skirts and kicking their feet here and there as the males distanced themselves, or in the case of Legolas, moved to the almost the back of the hall.
When Llyniel had finished her own flurry, she stood and watched with baited breath, for Legolas began to cartwheel and then flip-flop towards her, ending in a sideways twist and then a spectacular backwards flip that sent him sailing over her head, only to land on the other side of her and promptly whisk her away in the now frenzied rhythm as the entire orchestra took up the music. There was a mighty cheer, screams and hoots from the onlookers as the dancers reeled round and around, their skirts and hair flying madly around them.
Legolas span Llyniel purposefully close to the high table so that her skirt flew past her father and mother and she screamed as she laughed hysterically, the tempo accelerating once more, barely able to hold on.
Glorfindel was slapping his thighs in mirth and Mithrandir was wheezing, and Miren, Llyniel's mother sat with one hand on either side of her own face, her mouth wide and her eyes giddy.
One final spate in the music and Legolas lifted his partner into the air and spun her around and when the tune finally came to an end he set her down and twirled her around one last time as the crowds shouted and screamed and cheered.
Standing before each other, their chests heaving and their faces alight with the exhilaration of the dance, their eyes strayed to their lips and Legolas suddenly snapped out of the spell, giggling and then offering his arm to her.
Elladan and Maeneth were at their side then, and the Noldo looked at Legolas in something akin to disgust.
Legolas snorted and Maeneth giggled, but they
said nothing for they were all, completely out of breath.
The warriors of The Company slapped Legolas on the shoulder before returning to their tables, heroes to the rest of the Silvans sitting there, and Legolas and Elladan did the same, under the amused gazes of those present.
"Well, bless my Sindarin hide but I must learn that!" exclaimed Handir, before adding, "well, not the acrobatics bit - I would disjoint myself - but the rest - you must teach me!"
Legolas smiled, and then turned first to Aradan and then to Miren, who stared at him in shock. Bowing respectfully, he led Llyniel to her place and then sat once more, the very picture of lordly behaviour.
Thranduil had watched it all; he had smiled, and even laughed. He loved his youngest child with a passion he could not explain. Pride was simply an insufficient word, for he was beautiful, strong, skilled and so very empathic. A born leader, a heart-breaker - at peace with everyone except him, his father.
The night drew on and the music continued to flow, just like the wine and the dancing and soon, the younger members of the community had withdrawn to the Great Plateau, where the music could still be heard, but where they could sit and lounge and speak more freely as they enjoyed the fresh air and the stunning views over the Evergreen Wood.
Legolas lay on his side with Llyniel sitting beside him. Elladan sat a little more formally, with Maeneth close by and even Handir had joined them. Glorfindel soon returned with a jug of wine in his hand which earned him fond smiles from the younger elves.
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