The Sylvanus

by Oliver McBride

  Yet this was no ordinary lieutenant, for this elf had hair longer and thicker than any maiden, and eyes that spoke a thousand words in every shade of green. His strong body and angular features lent a power to him that could not be denied, and the light he emanated spoke of a strength as yet unseen, a force that attracted, that instilled empathy, that gave reason for pause.

  "Legolas," said the king simply.

  Bowing, he walked forward, purposefully keeping his eyes trained on his father, for he could not be distracted now from his purpose by questions that would wait.

  "My King. I must speak with you, seek your council on a matter of importance, before the Council begins."

  "Speak," he invited, nodding at the guard to leave and close the doors.

  "During the trials, they asked me if I was a Listener. I told them I was. I was - unsure of the wisdom of telling them I am a protege, and I am left with the worry that the army will consider my - understatement as a wilful lie."

  "Why did not not tell them?" asked Handir as he approached his father and brother.

  "I was being questioned, in every sense of the word. My physical strength, my loyalty. There was much - antagonism - so much I believed that by adding one more ingredient into the mix, it would tip the balance against me. It was a tactical move I am now unsure was wise."

  The king spared a glance at Handir and then at Aradan.

  Glorfindel came to stand by Legolas, a strong hand clasping his shoulder briefly, for now was not the time for affections.

  "If this information had been withheld from me, I would be angry in hindsight. I believe Celegon at least, should know. He can then decide the wisdom of sharing that with the Inner Circle."

  Silence ensued for a while as they considered the question.

  "We have secured his loyalty, that of the army in this request, he cannot go against that now," said the king.

  "No, he cannot. But I do not think he would respect it," said Aradan. "I believe we should tell him - now - before the council begins. Show him we are giving him the opportunity to retract."

  Legolas turned back to the king and nodded. "I agree."

  "Very well," said Thranduil. "Guard," he shouted, waiting for the doors to open. "Send for Commander General Celegon with all haste."

  "Legolas," smiled Glorfindel, placing a hand over his now armoured heart.

  "Glorfindel," said Legolas softly, before clasping his tutor's forearms affectionately, a fondness in his eyes that Thranduil watched with interest.

  "Are you alright?" he said quietly, his eyes roving over his slightly bruised face.

  "Yes - I am - now. I should have listened to you, Glorfindel. You warned me but I did not understand just what you meant…"

  "I know," he smiled fondly. "And perhaps that is just as well, the outcome has been magnificent," he said proudly.

  After a moment of silence, Legolas looked to the floor, as if to gather himself, before speaking again, but a whisper to those that watched on in fascination.

  "Thank you."

  Glorfindel's eyes widened marginally for a moment, before a contented smile bloomed on his ancient face.

  "You are very welcome, Lieutenant," he said, his fingers brushing over the carvings on his mithril vambraces.

  The moment was broken by the arrival of Commander General Celegon, who bowed low to the king, and then rose with a look of apprehension on his face.

  "Commander. I have summoned you here upon the request of Lieutenant Legolas," began the king, and Celegon's face seemed to pale before their eyes, thinking perhaps that the Silvan had formally complained of their treatment of him during the trial.

  "Some information was withheld from you, and which must now be revealed, so that you may change for mind before it is too late…"

  Turning challengingly to Legolas, he spoke as a commander does to his lieutenant. "What have you kept from me, lieutenant."

  But far from cowering before the imposing presence of the Commander General, Legolas spoke calmly and evenly.

  "You asked me if I was a listener, and I said yes…" he began, watching for signs that Celegon indeed remembered the moment.

  "Yes, continue…"

  "That was an understatement, Commander General. At the time, I was being questioned on various fronts; had I elaborated I felt the consequences may have been - detrimental."

  "Ah," he said, turning away from Legolas for a moment. "Then whatever it was that you withheld must have been - important indeed, for during all that time I never once saw your courage falter, Legolas."

  "It was not a question of courage, Commander General, but of being believed…" he emphasised.

  "I am intrigued then, for you are about to tell me something out of the ordinary, if I am not mistaken…" he said, his eyes now fixed on Legolas, bright and excitedly.

  "I am not a listener; I am Yavanna's Protege…"

  Celegon's eyes became brighter and wider and his breath became audible.

  "Celegon," came Glorfindel's confident voice, and Celegon turned his head sharply towards Imladris' Commander General.

  "It is true. I was there, Elrond, Mithrandir here too, knows the truth of it."

  "Indeed, Commander," said the wizard as he stepped closer to Celegon, who stood as if frozen.

  "There can be no question of his claim - but you do see - why he would hesitate to tell you, in the circumstances in which he found himself," said Mithrandir.

  "I - I do," came Celegon's shaky voice. "I am - not an unlearned elf - and as such I know that a Protege has a purpose…" he said, turning back to Legolas, who was watching him intensely.

  "My duty, is to protect the forests of Arda, and all those who dwell within," said Legolas simply.

  Celegon held his eyes before nodding his understanding. "While this is - incredible in itself," he began, "it does not change my opinion, must not change the decision of the Inner Circle, for we tested you in every way we could. You are loyal to this land and to your king and that is all that matters here. I will reveal this to the captains - when the time is right - not before," he added, his voice becoming stronger now.

  "I wonder though," he said as he thought, "do you think perhaps the Silvans knew? Their claim, their - request - for the return of the Warlord is surely no coincidence…."

  Mithrandir frowned while the rest started a little at the implications of Celegon's words.

  "How could they possibly have known?" asked Aradan.

  "I do not know," said Celegon. "I simply state the obvious from one that sees this from the outside. Legolas' mission is identical to the one the Silvans ask for - perhaps they did not know the specifics," continued Celegon, "but that they suspected - I do not think we can deny that…" he said, his eyes landing heavily upon those of the king.

  "Narosen…" said Legolas, his eyes unfocussed as he remembered his first mission as a warrior in the forest, with Lainion and Tirion.

  "Narosen, the Spirit Herder?" asked Handir, for he had met him just that very morning.

  "Yes," he mumbled. "There was an episode, when I still did not understand what was wrong with me. I touched a sentinel…"

  "A sentinel?" asked Glorfiindel.

  "A master tree," clarified Legolas. "A father, or mother, one that protects the rest. "I was - perturbed …

  "Do not be afraid…" said the Spirit Herder, watching in fascination as a white-blue light was reflected in the boy's green eyes, a light that he himself could not see.

  "What…."

  "It is a good thing, Silvan. Feel it, let it in… for Kementari has blessed you."

  "He knew!" exclaimed Legolas. "Only now do I realise but somehow, he knew… Mithrandir," he said pleadingly almost as he turned to the wizard.

  "His words were prophetic indeed… I must speak with this … Narosen," said the Maia, the sparkle of excitement in his ancient, blue eyes.

  "No, a little less, I used the medium-sized spoon as a reference."

  "Alright. I will make up another batch and store it f
or a week in the same place, after which we can sit and try to separate the elements, is that how it works?" asked Nestaron, his eyes greedy for the information, blue irises staring into intelligent light grey.

  "Yes," answered Elladan a little hesitantly, "although my father is the true expert in this. I will write to him tomorrow, explain what has happened and ask for his council on the matter. If I know him at all he will be banging on the great doors in exactly two weeks time!"

  "Elrond? Here?" asked Nestaron, his disbelieving eyes sparkling with the very thought.

  "Well, perhaps not, but the discovery merits it, Nestaron, this you know," said Elladan as they arrived at the fortress and entered the cool mountain halls.

  "Hwindohtar!" came a shout that made Elladan jump and turn. There, a Silvan warrior saluted proudly as a smiling Legolas passed him and returned it, and Rafnohtar grinned, for there was a joy in the Silvan's eye that could not be denied, in spite of the Council that was due to start in mere minutes.

  "Rafnohtar," said Legolas as he approached the two healers, his eyes momentarily alighting on Nestaron who stared back at him in something akin to stupor, for the healer had only ever seen him dishevelled and dressed in rags. Now, however, his extraordinary hair sat upon his head in neat braids and twists, his uniform shining as it sat over the sheer silk of his long under-tunic.

  "Healer Nestaron," nodded Legolas formally.

  Nestaron nodded back, unsure, it seemed, as to what to call him. Silvan, Legolas, Hwindohtar?

  "Well, Elladan, I will get back. Let me know when you have news from your Lord father and I will keep you abreast of our - brew," he smiled, and Elladan returned it.

  Alone now, Rafno and Hwindo walked together towards the great Council Hall.

  "So, this is it," said Rafno, shooting Legolas a sideways glance, not quite sure why he would be in such a pleasant mood, but he was.

  "Where is the rest of The Company, Elladan?" asked Legolas as they walked.

  They are in the public area, for they have no place within the circle. They were adamant about procuring for themselves a good vantage point, lest the need arise to trounce Barathon or Brethil," he smirked.

  Legolas snorted, "they can get into line then."

  "Lieutenants!" came the deep voice of Commander General Glorfindel, but only Elladan turned elbowing Legolas as he did so.

  Glorfindel saluted them both, watching in mischief as a somewhat embarrassed Legolas returned it. "Not yet used to it, eh? You soon will be, and you will find it more of a nuisance than anything else!" he smiled.

  "Yes, well, I am entitled to a twenty-four hour adaptation period, surely! moaned Legolas as he straightened his uniform.

  "Does it pull?" smirked Glorfindel.

  "No!" said Legolas, with a boyish smile, "it's just - very fancy," he said, looking down at himself.

  "You look very handsome, Hwindo, ignore this Gondolindrim," said Elladan with a wave of the hand. "We should be getting along, I will join The Company in the public area; I will see you later?" he asked, his face serious once more.

  "I do not know, Rafno - I hope so," he said apologetically.

  "Come," said Glorfindel, "let's get this over with," he said, and with that, Legolas and Elladan clasped forearms for the last time that day, the Noldo's sparkling grey eyes falling heavily on Legolas' green irises.

  "Tell them why you must be for the Silvans, convince them of your loyalty, show them they can trust you," he said.

  "I will try," said Legolas, "I can do no more."

  "Nay, you cannot - but it will be enough," said Elladan with an encouraging smile. "Beguile them, my friend, as only you know how…"

  Legolas smiled at his friend, a wide and genuine smile that for a moment, took away the apprehension that Elladan could now see, and he supposed Glorfindel did to.

  Soon enough, Legolas entered the Council Hall together with Glorfindel, and the habitual mantle of silence settled over the gathered crowds. They watched the Silvan as he made his way towards Prince Handir, while Glorfindel sat at Mithrandir's side with one last encouraging nod at Legolas. The King too, stopped his conversation with Aradan to watch, catching his son's eyes and giving him a minute nod and an approving gaze at his appearance. Legolas bowed formally, before sitting beside Handir, finally allowing his eyes to rove over the councillors that would participate.

  Twenty elves, predominantly Sindarin, made up the Permanent Council, and every one of them wore fine garments of the best quality silk and velvet. Long tunics similar to those of the Noldor, billowing cloaks and opulent jewellery as was the Sindarin way … they looked splendid to Legolas' unaccustomed eyes and he suddenly realised he did not stand out amongst them in his own, fine new uniform. It bought him a modicum of confidence and he breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind before the council began.

  He was unsure whether he would be called upon to speak at this point for he was not a member of this council, indeed he was a guest, albeit he sat in the circle. He was reminded then, of a conversation he had had with Handir in Imladris, when his brother had told Legolas that the Council room was every bit a battlefield of its own and he had believed that. His own lack of experience left him open to the possibility of being shredded to pieces should he open his mouth and that would not be good for his pretensions at all.

  And so he prayed that the councillors would sort this out between themselves, that Handir would do his part, just as he had promised he would, and that Legolas could simply watch, listen, and perhaps learn.

  And as Legolas took those final few minutes to calm himself, Handir watched his brother as he, in turn, watched the lords and councillors. Such a strong profile, mused the prince, similar to Rinion, he thought, for he had that same, determined look on his face that sharpened the curve of his jaw and the ridge of his nose.

  His slanted green eyes sparkled, with what Handir could not say but as yet, he did not seem overly nervous and that in itself was a good thing, for although the council had not yet started, the Councillors had already begun to form their own opinions of Legolas; his appearance, his expression, his body language would be giving them much information and Handir approved of the impression he rather thought Legolas had caused so far.

  Except of course, with Bandorion and Draugole, who made no effort at all to hide their contempt, for their lips curled in disgust as they spoke, their eyes fixed upon his younger brother. What must it be like? he wondered, to feel that hatred turned against you, feel it as it permeated the skin and sat like heavy metal upon the levity of one's soul… Legolas would be accustomed to it, he realised sadly.

  Turning his eyes now to he public area, he found it brimming. The Company stood off to one side, and Lieutenant Galadan stood close by, together with General Huron and Captain Dunorel. Barathon and Brethil, dressed as civilians, stood skulking in the shadows as they spoke quietly with one another. There was another elf with them, dressed as a warrior, and Handir suddenly realised it was the trainee lieutenant Silor, the one that had caused such strife on the way to Imladris.

  So they meant to speak, thought Handir, to discredit Legolas with everything they had; Barathon and Brethil's demotion, Silor's slanted report… But then Celegon had been there, he would be able to refute it - perhaps - if, of course, he had even seen what Silor had. Whichever the case, they seemed confident they would be given the word, for only the members of the Permanent Council had the right to speak freely.

  The plain truth was, that the only real weapon the Sindar had against Legolas, was their ability to call on the elder days, and to do so with their admittedly skilful minds and tongues. That, and to call into play Legolas' illegitimate begetting, for that did not sit well with many of the ancient Sindarin families. They could also bring his tender age into play, of course, or question his loyalty to his new-found family, but Handir felt confident that Celegon and Glorfindel's reports would be more than sufficient to refute their claims.

  Turning to the king, Handir watched as Aradan talked with him an
d his father listened attentively as he allowed his own eyes to watch the Hall. His father was shrewd, skillful, intuitive like few others, save perhaps for the uncanny Commander General Celegon, and Aradan himself, his own tutor.

  There was a lull in the conversation, as Lefnui, their Lore Master, walked slowly into the circle, waiting to be announced, and in his arms, sat a heavy tome.

  Three resounding claps of wood upon stone soon immersed the Hall in expectant silence, and yet Handir's mind was full of noise for now was the moment he had been preparing himself for. It was no longer time for timid opinion and insecure words. He had to secure his brother's naming as Warlord, and with it, secure his own place within the Permanent Council.

  "My Lords, Ladies, Councillors," began the Master of Ceremonies, Sedren. "This Council is declared in session," he called out, turning to every councillor and guest sitting in the circle.

  "We are gathered here today, to discuss and decide upon the request brought to us, by the Silvan people. Specifically, this request is for the restitution of the figure of the Silvan Warlord, and that specifically, this office should be given to Lord Legolas, son of Thranduil King."

  There were soft murmurs around the circle, and many glances cast in Legolas' direction, and Handir watched as Legolas simply settled his eyes on Sedren and allowed no emotion to show on his face. He was good, he mused.

  "The Lore Master, Lefnui, will read to us a passage from the Book of Silvan Lore, so that we may all understand what it is the Silvan people are asking of us."

  "Lefnui…" he said, yielding the centre of the circle to the Lore Master.

  Lefnui stood tall and strange as he opened his book and held it open on a page. There, was a colourful illustration of an elf. He stood tall and defiant, his legs and arms open and his face stared back at the reader challengingly. He looked dangerous for upon his back, sat a mighty bow and sword, and at his belt, hung daggers and knives.

  His hair was completely braided, adorned with beads and stones and shells, and around his shoulders, instead of a luscious, lordly cloak, were wolf skins. His strong, muscled chest was bare, save for the leather harnesses of his weapons, and there were strange drawings upon his shoulders and his abdomen.