The Sylvanus

by Oliver McBride

  "You came..."

  "For you, for this day," she said softly.

  "You have never left Broadtree, or so they say," said Legolas in wonder.

  "I am not a traveller, Legolas," she smiled, but he could see her words for what they were. There was a reason why she had never left their village, one he had never understood; even now she would not explain, just as she never had about anything of import in his life. It was frustrating and it curbed his exuberance, soured the joy he felt at her presence.

  "Already a master archer, I see," she smiled in pride and Legolas smiled back, all thoughts of bitterness now gone.

  "I cannot believe it myself but yes," he said, holding out the silver band reverently to better appreciate the workmanship.

  "Legolas!" came a shout from behind Amareth and she smiled as she stood to the side. Thavron rushed past her and then crashed into this friend, rattling them both until they embraced and thudded each other upon their backs.

  "My favourite forester!" shouted Legolas.

  "My favourite warrior!" shouted Thavron of Broadtree. "You have made us all proud for do not think we have not heard of your deeds in the South!"

  Legolas' face paled a little and his beam slipped a little.

  "Oh enjoy it while you can - you are a hero! you are The Silvan!" chuckled Thavron as he held Legolas out at arm`s distance. "Your hair - what have you done?"

  "What has Lainion done, you mean. He has provided me with the only way of keeping it from my face in battle - it is an Avarin style."

  "You look - exotic," was all Thavron could say, before hugging his friend once more and latching on to his arm. "Come, say hello to everyone, for there is a party tonight, for you, Idhreno and Ram en. We will dance and drink, eat and frolic into the night for we are Silvan!" he proclaimed, and more than one voice shouted "aye!" as they passed.

  Woodland fiddles soon echoed throughout the secluded glade where a party of family and friends was to be celebrated. But instead, the glade had filled with many others from Lainion's village, and even from further afield.

  The merry jigs were accompanied by lively percussion - drums of different tones and timbers weaved complex movements that were sometimes slow and romantic, and at others, rhythms that set the feet to tapping and the girls to swaying and smiling at the boys. Likewise, the lads eyes roved over the pretty lasses until they fixed on their next dance partner and they would reel her away in a swish of fine clothes and hair.

  And while some danced the night away, others stood and talked. Every corner was occupied by small groups of elves that talked as they drank and drank again, their eyes occasionally straying to the music and the gaity of the younger members of their society. To them, and to Legolas, for he was a sight they had not seen in many years…

  In one such group, Amareth stood talking quietly with Lainion. The Avari had taken it upon himself to inform her of Legolas' progress, yet only to the point of not trespassing on his young friend's privacy, indeed he said nothing of Legolas' budding gift with the trees.

  As he spoke, he was reminded of a much younger and lighter Amareth, a woman that still enjoyed life. Now, however, he found her light much diminished. She was still alive, it was not grief that afflicted her, but time and the events it had brought with it, had curbed her enthusiasm for life, leaving in its wake a quietly dignified woman who spoke little and transmitted less.

  He knew why. She had endured much during that tempestuous time when Lassiel, her sister, had been the king's lover, and everything that had ensued, including the queen's departure. Indeed, she never left her own village and Lainion could only assume it was to not draw attention to herself, and by doing so, to Legolas. The people still remembered Lassiel, as Calen had reminded him, for she had been beautiful; it would not take much for someone to draw the correct conclusions, secret lover of the king that she had been.

  "Lainion!" shouted Calen from afar, his face flushed with the dance and the wine and Lainion prayed to the Valar he would not approach now, for if Calen had a loose tongue when sober, it would verily flap if he were, as it now seemed likely, into his cups.

  Lainion's smile was a little lop sided when Calen finally reached them.

  "A wonderful party, my friend! So many have come - so many lovely ladies!" he smirked as he gulped his wine, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

  "Then have fun while you can, for the night is young and you - are unattached," said Lainion levelly, hoping that would prompt his friend to jump back into the fray. Alas, there was no such luck.

  "Your new friend is popular with the lasses, I will have to stake my claim on Elbanie - must be those eyes. I would bet my best belt that is Lassiel's son…" he said calculatingly as he sipped once more upon his wine.

  "The grapes addle your mind, Calen - Lassiel was not bonded."

  "And what does that matter!" there are plenty of bastards in this world, born outside the binds of marriage!" scoffed Calen, and Lainion stiffened a little, enough for Amareth to notice.

  "I tell you there is no mistaking it - I am not blind. Nobody else has those eyes, Lainion. I wonder who the lucky….." Called trailed off, his eyes growing wide as he slowly turned to Lainion, his mouth a little slack.

  "Lainion," he said, seriously now, no traces of his growing inebriation. "Lainion you don't suppose…. I mean you know what they said of Lassiel - Silvan lover of the king…"

  "Don't be ridiculous!" said Lainion a little too curtly, indeed he could see Calen flinch at his steely words and so he calmed his mounting worry.

  "Calen, that is ludicrous and you would do well not to repeat that; it could cause much harm."

  "You are protective of him," said Calen again, his gaze now shrewd and sharp. "Lainion, we have known each other for many years - do not take me for a fool. I know what I say and if his father is not - him - his mother is Lassiel."

  "Then for the friendship we share, Calen, do not repeat your conjectures," said Lainion in a tone that brooked no retort. "Legolas has no parents, nobody knows who they were and that is the end of it - do you understand me, my friend?"

  Calen held the Avari's dark gaze for a while before answering him. "Oh yes, Lainion. I understand, I understand perfectly."

  "Promise me," said Lainion, his eyes boring into Calen's, hypnotically almost.

  "I trust you, Lainion, and for now you have my promise."

  "That is all I need."

  Silence ensued and Amareth cleared her throat and then caught sight of Erthoron, the leader of her own village, Broadtree.

  "Child," he hailed her with a smile, before turning to Lainion. "It has been a while, Lieutenant," he said softly.

  "Well, I am off in search of Silvan pleasures - I will leave you to your musings Avari!" shouted Calen, before prancing away and into the crowd of dancing elves, his cup held high lest he spill the precious contents.

  Lainion and Amareth heaved relieved sighs, before grinning at each other. But it did not last long, for what had happened had been as inevitable as it had been predictable. This was why Amareth had never left her village.

  "What has happened?" asked Erthoron seriously.

  "Legolas is in danger of being identified," said Lainion. "He is too much like his mother…" he said.

  "Wait until he travels into the lands of the Sindar proper, for it will not be Lassiel with whom they relate him…"

  "I know," said Lainion, "I know."

  Another figure approached then, Tirion who, by his expression, seemed to understand some conversation of import was taking place.

  "Lady Amareth?" he asked tentatively, to which she nodded, but said nothing.

  "I am Captain Tirion, it is a pleasure to meet you."

  "Thank you, Captain. I believe you have been Legolas' commanding officer."

  "That is correct my lady, although for this upcoming trip I cannot company him. He will be with Lainion, though."

  "Tirion," said Lainion urgently, for he realised Tirion did not know she had not yet been told of the
ir plans. Luckily though, the two had worked together long enough to understand each other's non verbal communication and Tirion nodded subtly to Lainion. It was time to tell her.

  "My Lady," began Lainion. "There is something of great importance you need to know."

  Amareth scowled in puzzlement but her nostrils flared, and Lainion immediately knew she was nervous. With a brief glance at Erthoron, he continued.

  "Does Lord Erthoron …" he trailed off meaningfully, and Amareth understood.

  "Aye, he was there. He has been my rock all these years…"

  Relieved, Lainion continued. "You already knew the consequences of Legolas becoming a warrior, did you not?" he asked, rhetorically he was sure.

  After a moment of silence, Amareth nodded. "Yes," she said quietly, sadly. "Yes I knew, and the Valar are witness to my doubts but - I could not hold him back," she said pleadingly. "I knew it would only be a matter of time but I could not keep him in a remote Silvan village - he is too - important," she whispered.

  Erthoron looked into his cup and Lainion simply nodded his understanding.

  "We too, know this. We have a plan… The day after tomorrow, both I and Legolas ride to Imladris, far from Thranduil's halls. We have arranged for Prince Rinion to be abroad simultaneously."

  "Wait, I don't understand," said Amareth, shaking her head in frustration.

  "Prince Rinion is - volatile and, close, shall we say, to those that proclaim Sindarin rule. He would be a danger to our plan."

  "Which is?" asked Amareth, a note of irritation creeping into her tone.

  "Whilst both Legolas and Rinion are far away, I will tell Legolas of his heritage…" he could go no further.

  Amareth gasped loudly, her own cup falling to the forest floor. "No - NO! you can't - Lainion you must not!"

  Now it was Lanion to frown, for he had thought it obvious she would understand that Legolas would need to know.

  "You cannot pretend to hide it from him forever, my lady. He will be recognised and if I do not tell him, someone else will - is that what you want?"

  The ensuing silence was marred only by Amareth's harsh breathing and Erthoron touched her arm in concern.

  "Amareth…"

  "Lainion - you do not - you do not understand…" she said pitifully.

  "What is it we do not understand?" interjected Tirion for the first time.

  "You place him in harm's way, Lainion…" she whispered meaningfully, her eyes full of unshed tears. "If you tell him, and you tell his father, there is no telling what will happen…"

  "Amareth," said Lainion softly, "'tis why we do this while he is away, do you not see?"

  "No! I do not see. You still don't understand…"

  "Amareth," said Tirion sternly, taking a step forward. "What is it that you know, that we - do not…"

  Erthoron breathed deeply and looked up, straight into Tirion's stern gaze. "Captain," said the village leader, "What you do not know, is that if Legolas were ever to leave his village, if his identity were ever to be known, the child would - be dealt with," he said in disgust.

  Both Laiion and Tirion's eyes widened at the implications. "You surely cannot mean…"

  "I mean," said Erthoron, "that there are those who would do him harm, should he step into the light." The village leader's eyes shone as he gazed heavily at both warriors.

  "Who told you this?" growled Lainion. "Who dared to threaten you…" he trailed off then, his eyes widening once more as he turned straight to Amareth. "It was the same one, wasn't it? The same elf that told the queen… who?" he whispered, before shouting loud enough to make them all jump. "Who!"

  "Lainion," warned Erthoron.

  "We do not know their names but they were Sindarin. They said they spoke for many at court, that a royal bastard would not be tolerated…"

  "Bandorion's followers, I would wager on it," said Tirion urgently. "This is, unexpected. Perhaps we should…"

  "Never!" growled Lainion. "Now, more than ever," he emphasised, "I am determined to do what is right for the boy. We cannot cage him in, we cannot stunt his destiny. This must end, and it ends with the truth. No sooner we are on the road and I tell him. Aradan will see to the rest." He would brook no argument it seemed and Tirion nodded curtly. Amareth, however, was awash in tears.

  "They will find him, hunt him down and take him from me. They are powerful Sinda, they are capable of anything…" she babbled miserably.

  "Amareth. The king, too, is powerful. We must wait for his reaction to this for as far as he is concerned, his child is in Aman, with Lassiel."

  She looked sharply up at him, her eyes wide. She seemed to calm a little then, before an expression of hopelessness fell over her pretty face. "When he hears of what really happened, he will fade, Lainion. He will weaken and they will take advantage. They will place Bandorion on the throne as they have ever wanted to do. When they hear of Legolas, they will bless their luck and then kill my son - the perfect culmination to their plans."

  "That is a possibility, Amareth. But think of this. The king may not react as you say. He may take an interest in his son. Not all the Sindar at court are disloyal to Thranduil, the majority are with him. It is the Silvan people who float in the middle of this, and Amareth… do you not see? Do you

  all not see? Legolas is the Silvan. He has already won them over and will only become stronger in their eyes. This may be enough to avoid Bandorion's followers from threatening his life for if they do, the Silvan people would not tolerate it and that - is not in Bandorion's interests…"

  Tirion, Amareth and Erthoron stared at the Avari for long moments, before the village leader finally broke the silence.

  "Well reasoned, Lieutenant. Well reasoned indeed."

  Author's notes:

  Hello again everyone. Well, part three is here, and I have a few things to explain. This will be the final part of this story, in which finally, the truth will be revealed. This chapter is a lead up to that truth, which will, at least partially, come to fruition in chapter twenty-three. So, those of you who are now thoroughly frustrated with me, will be rewarded very soon now.

  I must say that the following three chapters have been a challenge to my writing, and I am wondering whether I have been able to show my readers exactly what was in my head. Therefore, I would especially appreciate your comments, be they good or not so good.

  As The Company is slowly becoming what it is in Arcane Land, I will be using warrior names more frequently. I have, therefore, included a quick reminder below, of who is who, not only of The Company, but of all my ever increasing OCs!

  Finally, thank you to all those who took the time to review, and to my guest reviewers.

  List of characters:

  The Silvan / Legolas / Hwindohtar (The Whirling Warrior) - Legolas

  Idhren / Idhreno / Idhrenohtar (The Wise Warrior)

  Ram en Ondo (Wall of Stone)

  Lainion / Dimaethor / Dima (The Silent Warrior)

  Carodel / Lindo / Lindohtar (The Bard Warrior)

  Amareth - Legolas' aunt

  Lassiel - Legolas' mother

  Erthoron - Village leader (Broadtree)

  Golloron - Spirit Herder of Broadtree

  Thavron - Chief Forester of Broadtree

  Lorthil - Village leader

  Narosén - Spirit Herder

  Prince Handir - second son of Thranduil

  Prince Rinion - heir to the throne of Greenwood

  Councillor Aradan - Chief Councillor to Thranduil and childhood friend

  Guard Captain Celegon - Sindarin Lord, Captain of the Guard

  Lieutenant Galadon - Sindarin lieutenant to Captain Celegon

  Silor - veteran Sindar warrior, aspiring to Lieutenant

  Chapter twenty-two: Who Am I?

  Autumn sunlight filtered through the green leaves of a flet high above the forest floor, cradled in the arms of a mighty tree, a sentinel, Legolas knew.

  Funny, how pain comes in different rhythms and tones and today, it was a slow, deep thud
, the type that comes after a night of Silvan reverie.

  Comfort too, came in grades, but this morning, there was none to be had. It was as if there were nothing below him, and yet the three points of pressure he could feel upon his body were - hard and unyielding, sticking into his skin painfully.

  Raising his heavy head for a moment, he realised he lay draped over a set of intertwined branches, just above the area he was supposed to have slept. He vaguely remembered having climbed to see the autumn stars. It was there, that he had fallen asleep.

  He wore only his leggings and one boot, for the other had dropped into the living quarters of the flet below. He had also managed to retain one vambrace, but the other hung from his wrist by its strings, swaying mockingly in the light morning breeze.

  Turning his head, he winced as his hair tugged painfully and he realised it had all come undone, only to snag in the finer twigs and drying leaves.

  He wanted to laugh, and then he wondered if it was his own sense of humor, or that of the sentinel.

  He knew he would never be able to free himself on his own. He would have to call for help, but that was not going to happen, said Legolas to himself, for he would surely be the laughing stock of the village.

  The night had been long and oh so memorable. He had become a warrior in every sense, and a master archer too. He turned his head as far as he could, smiling when the silver arm band came into view, sitting now upon his strong, naked bicep.

  His smile soon disappeared though, when his scalp was jolted painfully and he yelped, and although he had not moved, his hair was now, mysteriously free, falling around him almost to the floor beneath him. Smiling, he realised it was time to climb down.

  With a groan, he slowly made his way to the platform below and stretched his sore muscles. It was then, that hysterical laughter cut into his fogged senses and he turned in irritation to the source of the noise.

  There, sitting cross legged before a pot of steaming tea, were Idhreno, Ram en Ondo, Lindohtar and Dimaethor. They laughed and laughed and slapped each other upon the thighs and backs, their shoulders shaking and their eyes crinkled shut, tears of mirth collecting in the corners of their sparkling eyes.