But he did not, instead narrowing his eyes and watching the patch of distant bough for the moment he sought and suddenly, there it was.
Legolas' arrow sailed from his bow, just as an incoming projectile sliced away his shoulder plate, ripping the shirt and skin below. He swayed to the side before preparing another arrow, for the archer that had almost caught him had assumed victory far too early. With one, final draw, hold and release, the beast shrieked and fell to the ground, no more black arrows ..
The warriors cheered as the fight continued, and Legolas discarded his bow as carefully as he was able, and then pulled out his twin knives and swirled them in his hand before launching himself into the fray, into the thick of the enemy, which coincided precisely with Rinion's position.
Rinion blocked a heavy blow that knocked him off balance and another orc came dangerously close to breeching his defence. There were three other warriors around the prince, but as the battle wore on, the more the enemy flocked to him - royal blood.
Legolas danced into his peripheral vision again, swirling and twisting and turning in a way Rinion had never before seen. It was hypnotic, and distracting, he berated himself as another scimitar came far too close for comfort.
Rinion's back collided with his brother's and knocked him momentarily off balance, a moment one orc took advantage of to land a stinging blow to his face. Legolas' knife blocked the incoming blade with a high-pitched shriek and disarmed his opponent, before slicing through it's arm and sending it to the ground. Stomping his boot into its face, he sent the beast's nose bone into its brain, killing it instantly.
Spitting blood out of his mouth, Legolas moved to the next orc, feeling his brother still fighting behind him.
"Down!" he shouted as he himself ducked a powerful scimitar that sailed over his head. Legolas countered by swiping low and effectively hamstringing his opponent.
A warrior screamed and fell to the ground, drawing Legolas' attention to his brother again, but then movement to the left had him reaching reflexively for the bow that was no longer on his back, for in the distance, partially hidden, was an archer, sighting Rinion. He looked around frantically but there was nothing he could use, only himself.
"Archer!" he shouted, but he was already sprinting forwards, placing himself in its line of fire. Using his hands, he launched himself into a series of flips and twists, effectively distracting the orc from its aim for it stared open-mouthed as the Whirling Warrior careened towards him, its bow arm sagging as it tried to think on what was happening, but even as it drew breath and began to screech, Legolas was upon it, launching himself into the air and catching its head between his knees. Using his own weight, he pulled to the side and then crashed painfully to the ground. He was on top of it in an instant, plunging both of his knives into either side of its neck.
Pulling them back out with a vicious tug, he stood and turned towards the battle field once more, his knives dripping with thick blood, chest heaving from the exertion of battle.
His eyes found those of his brother, who was already staring back at him from afar, surrounded by dead orcs. It was over, and the lingering gaze between brothers stretched on for there was much to read behind their eyes.
Captain Thoron, with the help of Eramir, began to organise the uninjured warriors, setting a perimeter guard to watch for stragglers, whilst the wounded were tended to. Elladan was immediately in the middle of it, his cloth back, replete with bandages, liquids and herbs, even tools, now lying open.
"Lieutenant Elladan, take charge of the wounded," commanded Thoron as he passed, and then gestured to Legolas to join him. Jogging back to where he had left his bow, he stashed it safely on his back and joined the captain.
The Commander looked at him for a moment, before surveying the battle field and then speaking softly. "Your skill with that contraption is duly noted," he said, eyes roving over Legolas' beaten face and then his exposed shoulder. His eyes widened for a moment in surprise.
"It is official?" he asked, "you are Warlord?" he asked.
Legolas looked down at himself, realising that Thoron had seen the mark. "I will be, in two days' time."
"Congratulations then, Lieutenant. I look forward to working with you again. Who has been assigned your captain?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
"Captain Dunorel, Sir," replied Legolas.
Thoron nodded. "He is one of our best, you are lucky to train under him. Look after that," he gestured to Legolas' torn arm, "we cannot afford to lose your bow, lieutenant."
"Thank you Captain," said Legolas, saluting and then walking to where the Company were regrouping and Thoron continued to watch him from afar as the young lieutenant checked his warriors, speaking with them before joining Elladan to help with the wounded.
Thoron smiled and then turned to his own lieutenant, Eramir, who now stood beside him, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Yes, I know," chuckled Thoron and Eramir allowed himself a smile.
"What a find," said the stoic lieutenant.
"Indeed," murmured Thoron.
Elladan had been pulling arrows for the last ten minutes, and he sat up for a quick respite, wiping a hand over his brow to remove the strands of hair that had stuck to his forehead. Legolas held out a skin of water to him which he took gratefully, throwing his head back and drinking, some of the water running down his neck unchecked.
Finishing with a great gasp for air, he rolled his shoulders. "I wonder when I can start my project, another healer here would do the world of good," he said as he surveyed the camp. "Come, sit," ordered the Noldo as he reached for his bag again.
"It's nothing Rafno," said Legolas, sitting slowly with a groan he had not been able to suppress.
"What is it?" he asked as he reached for the bottle of disinfectant.
"I need to perfect that move, the landing was - painful," he said ruefully as he rubbed his hip.
"I didn't see it, but I have already heard something of it - drawing attention to yourself again?" snorted Elladan as he cleaned the cut high on Legolas' arm, where his shoulder plate had been.
"Not intentionally," he answered a little timidly.
"And tell me, are there any teeth left in that big mouth of yours?" asked Elladan with a snort.
Legolas simply smiled wryly, and then startled a little as he felt the presence of another, crouching at his side. Turning his head, he was surprised to find Rinion's face now close to his own, icy blue eyes boring into him uncomfortably.
"How is he?" asked the Prince of Elladan, his eyes riveted on Legolas.
"What you see, my Lord, and a nasty bruise to the hip."
Rinion looked peeved as he listened and he stared at his brother, but his words did not fit his expression at all.
"You fought well, Lieutenant. You have my thanks."
Legolas held his gaze as levelly as he could manage, but his head tilted slightly to one side. He had not meant to move it at all, but this elf was perplexing and unnerving, ambiguous and so very difficult to predict.
"It was my pleasure, my Prince," replied his rebellious mouth, for neither had he thought to say those words - but he had, and what surprised him the most, was that he had truly meant them.
Rinion too, seemed surprised but he did not comment. He simply stood, spared a nod at Elladan, and then walked away.
"Is it true? Has the king accepted our request? " asked one warrior, startling both Elladan and Legolas, who had been contemplating Rinion. The newcomer's eyes were staring at the circle of eternity that sat high on Legolas' chest, half way to his shoulder.
"Yes - yes he has accepted," he said simply, watching as a smile blossomed on the warrior's face.
"It is an honour to meet you, Lieutenant," he said. "I have been charged with telling you that we, the Silvan warriors, are proud to fight along side you."
Legolas processed the words as calmly as he could manage, allowing the first words that came to him, to tumble out of his mouth. "And I am proud to serve with you, warrior, with all of you, be you Sin
da, Silvan or Avarin.
"The Silvan's smile became wider as he bowed from the waist and then strode back to the thick of able-bodied warriors, slapping them upon the backs and talking animatedly. A cheer went up amongst them and Elladan smiled as he worked.
Soon, the entire Company sat in a circle around Elladan and Legolas, and from afar, Thoron, Eramir and Rinion watched them.
"It is a good job he is on our side, that his loyalty is not questioned. He will be a mighty commander - he will move them in a way Oropher himself once did - more even, perhaps," said Thoron. Rinion heard the words, knew them as truth, in spite of his immediate temptation to make a sarcastic comment. He didn't though, for in his mind he saw once more as Legolas moved into the path of the archer that had sighted him. The sheer power it had taken to move so quickly, and then the tactic that had taken down the orc. Legolas had saved his life and had not sought to collect his thanks, indeed Rinion had been sure he would not.
Closing his eyes for a moment, the battle inside him was being won, and Rinion wondered then, how much longer he could resist what was slowly becoming inevitable. This damnable Silvan child, was getting under his defences, slowly seeping into his tough hide, to the softer tissue below.
Bird call erupted around them, and moments later, Haldir and the Lorien guard filed into their camp, dismounting at the perimeter. Rinion's eyes searched frantically behind the Marchwarden, but the warriors were so tall, he could not see her - until a wisp of silver hair snaked from around an archer's shoulder and he began to stride forward, until the stride became a canter and then a full out run.
The warriors before Maeneth saw him just in time to move out of the way, and before they knew what was happening, the two elves had come together in a fierce embrace. Rinion's hands cradled his sister's head to his chest, desperately clinging to her, as if he could not believe she was physically there, in his arms.
Thoron, Eramir and Haldir watched quietly as the siblings were reunited for the first time in an almost incomprehensible seven hundred years, and more than a few eyes had become overly bright, for to see Rinon, Crown Prince of Greenwood, express such strong emotion was simply unheard of, and yet so very welcomed for in that one moment, he became alive, became approachable.
From afar, Legolas watched somewhat melancholically as he busied himself with helping Elladan with an elf who had taken an arrow to the calf.
Elladan took his eyes momentarily from the wound he was cleaning, and followed Legolas' line of sight. He stopped dead, his hands freezing over the wounded warrior as his eyes latched onto the source of his shock, for shock it was - his heart sped up, out of control and his breathing accelerated in a half-hearted attempt to keep up. The din around him faded into nothing, as if dampened by morning fog and his eyes focussed only on the silver-haired elf that smiled up at Rinion. Everything else had become a blur, and even Legolas' words went unnoticed.
"Rafno!" said Legolas for the third time, before turning to where Elladan was staring, and when he realised who his friend was observing, his head snapped back, a look of utter disbelief on his face.
"Elladan …"
"What?" snapped the Noldo, as if he were being rudely interrupted.
Legolas let out a long, noisy breath. "I do not think that is a good idea…." he said drolly.
"And what would you know?" asked Elladan as he arched his right eye brow, and then regretted it as his tone came out harsher than he had intended.
"Forgive me, I did not mean…" began Elladan.
"Whatever," said Legolas with a wave of his hand. "Just, have a care, Elladan."
The Noldo simply nodded, before turning his eyes back to his patient.
"Will you not go to them?" he asked Legolas.
"Not yet," he murmured. "I would only distract them from their reunion - it has been so long for them."
Eladan knew he was right; Rinion and Maeneth seemed close, as close perhaps even as he was to Elrohir and he wondered, how it would feel to be as close to her as her brother was now, stand before her, fall into her beauty, possess it…
From across the glade, Haldir watched Elladan as he watched Maeneth and his jaw twitched in irritation. One battle had just ended, and the Marchwarden wondered, if another one was about to begin.
The Eastern patrol, together with the Company and the Lorien guard, slowly made their way towards the heart of the forest, and Thranduil's court. Song had erupted amongst them, for the Princess returned to her birth place and they shouted it to the heavens. Bird call followed them and then echoed back at them as elves ran through the trees, bearing the tidings to every corner of the forest.
The Lorien guards remained on full alert, while the Silvan warriors smiled as they sang, and the Sindar sang but did not smile.
The wounded rode before their fellow soldiers, and at the centre, rode Rinion and Maeneth. They talked quietly, their heads drawn together, but sometimes they would just listen as the warriors sang. They were happy, and Legolas marvelled at this new, so far unseen side of his older brother, the caring, protective brother that loved just as fiercely as he hated.
Just before they had mounted up, Rinion had called Legolas to meet Maeneth. It had been brief and somewhat formal. She had smiled as she inspected him, and he had traced the lines of her beautiful face, committing her features to memory, but Rinion had cut it short and Legolas could not say he blamed him for that. There were many arrow injuries and their prompt return to the Greenwood would mean they would reach comfort soonest, not that Legolas was sure those were his brothers thoughts though. And so, with a nod, they had parted ways, and Legolas had missed the reproving stare that Maeneth had cast in her elder brother's direction.
She was utterly beautiful, he mused, and he knew he was not the only one to think the same, for Elladan had fallen under her spell no sooner he had first set eyes upon her from afar. He would have to introduce them, the thought, if he could get anywhere near her, he snorted, for Rinion had her full attention and Legolas could not help but think it strange.
Yet why would he think it strange? Rinion was an elf, he had a heart and a soul and although he often seemed made of stone and ice, Legolas knew that was the result of his suffering, it was what his brother had become, not how he had been born. Their sister was the key, he realised then - the key to Rinion's return to happiness and with it, perhaps a chance for his own contentment.
It was back again, that sense of loss, of what he could have had, and had been denied, was still denied. He was jealous of their happiness he realised, and it made him angry, at himself.
He knew the Company watched him, except for Elladan who was far too busy watching the wounded. Idhrenohtar, especially, seemed to have read his thoughts and he wondered how many of the others could see his emotions. Schooling himself, he looked away and allowed his eyes to stray into the trees, spotting the silvans sitting there, swinging their legs over branches as they watched the caravan, waving as they passed and then scurrying ahead to tell the story of who was approaching the fortress, and just who accompanied her.
Children of the forest, he smiled, simple souls - uncomplicated, open and receptive. He missed that simplicity, the joy of simply being and he knew, inexorably, that he would never be as carefree again.
They were singing at the camp ahead, for the merry, Silvan tune floated upon the afternoon air and infused them all with a sense of warmth and belonging, even the Sindar joined in the forest air and this time, they did smile, their eyes straying from time to time to their lovely princess who sat amongst them, hand in hand with their Crown Prince, her face set in absolute bliss.
Elladan watched them and smiled, his sparkling grey eyes alight in curiosity and admiration.
"Rafnohtar - you are besotted," snorted Lindohtar from beside him.
"Elladan turned a peeved face to his brother in arms. "I am not - besotted - " you Silvan fool," he said, but his eyes turned back to Maeneth once more and the smile was back.
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed Lindohtar as he f
lapped his hand in the air - "I feel a melody coming to me…. Silver Princess of my Noldorin heart, I…."
"Shhshshshshut up!" hissed Elladan, batting at Lindohtar's theatrically gesticulating arm.
The Silvan chuckled wildly, drawing the attention of the other warriors around him.
Lindohtar did stop laughing, but he could not hold it for long, and a long, drawn out snort escaped him again and he pulled away from Elladan, regrouping with the rest of the Company as he chuckled uncontrollably.
Elladan scowled, and his eyes accidentally fell upon Haldir, who was staring back at him strangely. His scowl deepened, watching as the Marchwarden turned his eyes to Maeneth and suddenly he understood, and a sinking feeling invaded him. Were they together? he wondered, for there had been no mistaking that look of possessive protection Haldir had shot him.
He would find out, he resolved. Legolas too, watched his sister and Rinion, he realised, yet it was not joy Elladan could see on his face. There was curiosity there, but there was also sadness, and Elladan was suddenly reminded that this elf was but half his own age. It was easy to forget when one spoke with him, fought with him, but in this one thing, when his gaze was unguarded, he was still readable.
Elladan could not bring himself to resent Rinion though, however much he disliked the elf. He obviously shared a special relationship with his sister, and he could not fathom what it would have been like to have been separated for all those centuries. Even so, both siblings had all but ignored their half brother, after a duteous and all too brief introduction by a reluctant Rinion, and although Legolas would never admit to it, Elladan knew it had stung him.
They could see the tents of the Silvan encampment up ahead, and then the mighty stone fortress beyond, their final destination and Elladan's eyes were back on Legolas, watching as he fidgeted again in the saddle - his hip was giving him grief yet he had not complained at all. Poor child, he mused in fondness and suddenly wished he could deposit his friend into the arms of his Silvan kin, to Amareth and Marhen for some well-deserved comfort and attention. It would soon be his investment and the ensuing feast at the fortress - there would be little time for rest and recovery then.
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