To Find a King

Working her natural charm, Arwen had convinced Legolas to spend one more night in Rivendell and depart at first light the coming dawn. The world was still dark when the Prince awoke, the winter stars the only lights in the frosty night. Legolas lit a few of the candles on the candelabra and gave the fire a stoke before changing out of his nightwear and into his own garb. He was glad to note that all physical aches and pains that had ailed him when he had arrived at Rivendell were now gone.

"You need not lurk at the door, Arwen," Legolas said as he fastened his tunic, sensing her presence. Arwen opened the door and entered.

"You are almost ready?"

"Pray tell you have not arranged a leaving party?" Legolas teased.

Arwen smiled. "No. Your departure shall be as quiet and unremarkable as your arrival."

"Good," Legolas said, thankful. He did not wish for a large send off, and quite supposed given the hour of his departure that he would be unlikely to see any more of the occupants of Rivendell.

"You are not wearing that?" Arwen said, nodding in the direction of Legolas's fine mail vest which lay on the end of the bed.

"It is a garment meant for battle," the Prince said, sitting down on the bed to pull on his boots. "I shall fight if this quest calls for it, but will not intentionally look for conflict." Legolas stood up.

"Will you wear this though?" Arwen asked, handing him a bundle of cloth.

Legolas unfolded it and looked at the cloth in the candlelight. "It would be rude of me to refuse such a gift," the Prince said, holding up a cloak of fine mottled blue, grey and brown wool to admire it. It was not lost on Legolas that the cloak was the colours of shadows.

Arwen took the cloak from his hands and placed it around his shoulders. "I know you need it naught for warmth," she said, fastening the clasp, "But there are many eyes out in the world, and not all are friendly, least of all toward elf-kind, viewing us with suspicion and mistrust."

"I know," Legolas said. Of late he had experienced much of that; dwarves preferring war to making a deal with the elves, and men doubtful and wary in the presence of those of the Eldar.

Arwen lifted the hood up over Legolas's head. "There will be times when you identity may be best kept hidden."

"You support me on this quest against your father's wishes," Legolas said, picking up his quiver and knives and fastening them to his back. "He would not have me seek out this Ranger." Lord Elrond had made himself scarce since his encounter with the Woodland Prince the previous morning, and Legolas did not expect to see him now.

"He is not always right," Arwen said, "Age does not necessarily lead to wisdom on all matters. His visions can be wrong. The future can be changed. I do not believe this world to be so fixed upon a single path."

Legolas frowned ever so slightly. Surely is was too early in the morn for such philosophy. Then he realised it was unlikely that Arwen had slept this night. He picked up his bow. "I shall return," he said and walked to the door.

"Give Aragorn my blessing," Arwen said.

Legolas stopped as he reached the door. He touched his right hand to his heart and then held it out to Arwen in a sign of admiration and respect. Arwen returned the gesture.

Legolas had travelled south and west for a little over two weeks before he came to a village of men within the shadow of the Misty Mountains. Upon entering the village, Legolas had not come across a name for it, and wondered if such a place had a name at all. A half dozen ramshackle buildings stood together, making a town centre of sorts. Fortunately, one of those buildings was an inn.

Legolas had been stopping at any encampment of men along the way, though these had been few and far between. But time in the wilderness had done the Prince more good than he could have realised. Though his physical ailments had been cured in Rivendell, it was only since being out in the wild that Legolas had noticed a dark cloud shrouding his mind. Legolas knew not how to remove this cloud, but the knowledge that it was there was a revelation in itself. Besides, he thought, a change in the wind, and even the fiercest of storm clouds blow away.

The day had rained relentlessly until mid-afternoon, and it was after nightfall once Legolas, cold, damp and muddy, came to the inn in the tiny village. Once inside, Legolas found the establishment to be hot and stuffy, rife with the smells of pipe weed, unwashed men, fire smoke and ale.

"And how can I be of assistance, young master?"

It took Legolas a moment to realise that the barman was indeed speaking to him. "I,"

"Require a room and a meal, no doubt," The barman said, cutting him off, "We've plenty of rooms to be had, no need to worry. Little traffic at this time of year. Folk don't start heading back north for around another month, or a good fortnight at least. Room 4, upstairs, on your right, should suit you nicely. Go and take a seat, I'll get Tessie to bring you a meal and an ale. Tessie!"

Legolas moved through the inn to a empty both to the right of the fireplace. He put down his bow and took a seat, keeping most of his face obscured by his hood. The inn could hold at least double or more people than the dozen or so currently present, and Legolas assumed that the weather and the time of year kept many guests at bay. Almost all present, bar the elven Prince, were engaged in loud, bawdy discussions, laughing and getting drunk.

"Here you go," a buxom serving girl said, placing a mug of ale and a plate of hard bread, harder cheese and dried meat in front of Legolas. She waited. Legolas looked at her. "Well?" said the girl rudely.

"Thank-you," Legolas said, somewhat confused, hoping that was all she wanted.

"See, manners don't cost you nothing," the girl said, swishing her hips as she strode back to the bar.

The meal was by no means special, but it was at least a change to the lembas bread which Legolas carried with in small supply. He ate the meal, imagining it as fresh bread, roast game and creamy soft cheeses, accompanied by a selection of vegetables, followed by seasonal fruits, all washed down with strong wine. A whole keg of this weak ale could not light a fire in the belly of the Woodland Prince.

The meal, although average at best, and the warmth of the inn momentarily distracted Legolas from his his surroundings. For he paid no heed to the hooded man sitting in the alcove across the room, smoking a pipe and watching the elf. Legolas had seen the man on entry, and instinct had told him to give the man a wide berth. It was not until this man stood and crossed the room that Legolas took full note of him.

The man slid onto the bench on the opposite side of the table at which Legolas sat and slipped his pipe into a concealed pocket. "It is seldom that those of the Eldar visit these parts. Especially alone," the man said leaning forward, his hands folded on the table in front of him, his voice hardly above a whisper. The man too kept his hood up over his head, but Legolas recognised the garb of a Ranger.

Legolas suppressed a smile from appearing upon his lips. "It is seldom to find a man in these parts who speaks the tongue of the elves so naturally," he replied in Sindarin, the same language in which the man had spoken.

"Who are you?" the man asked accusingly, continuing in Sindarin. Legolas went to remove his hood, but the man stopped him. "Not here," the man said, raising his fingers to stop the Prince. Legolas lowed his hands, his eyes glancing at the Ranger's hands. The ring on the right pointer finger of the man was unmistakable.

"Where?" Legolas asked, not allowing his tone to betray the gratefulness he felt at having found the man.

"Have you a room?"

"Room four, I believe the barman said."

"Good," said the man, sliding off the bench and standing up. "It's quieter than mine."

"You are familiar with this establishment?" Legolas asked, grabbing his bow and following suit.

The man didn't reply and led the way up the narrow winding staircase and down a passageway to room four. The room was on the smaller side, containing a lumpy bed, narrow washstand and window overlooking the darkened street, and lit by a small torch beside the door. Legolas lay his bow down on the bed and the man shut the door.

"Who are you?" the man asked again, continuing the conversation in Sindarin.

This time Legolas removed his hood without interruption. "Legolas of the Woodland Realm," he replied.

"Legolas?" the man repeated.

Legolas nodded.

"I know your name," the man said, slightly accusingly.

"Son of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm" the Prince added, deciding that there was little point in lying to the Ranger. He wanted the man to trust him. He needed him to.

"And what brings you here, Legolas Thranduilion?" the Ranger scoffed at the name.

"You," Legolas said.

"You know who I am?" the man asked.

"Yes," Legolas said, "I have come from Rivendell. My Lady Arwen sends her blessings." Though the room was lit only by a flickering torch, it was enough for Legolas to see that the Ranger's cheeks turn pink at the mention of Arwen.

"What do you know of that?" the man snapped.

"Aragorn, is it not?" Legolas asked, ignoring the man's question.

"What do you want of me?" Aragorn asked, flicking back his hood. He was exactly as Arwen had described.

"We are both lost, Aragorn. There is much we both do not understand."

"Talk to me straight, or not at all," Aragorn snapped, "I've had it with the riddles of elves."

"I am sorry that our paths have not yet crossed, but I know that my father once met yours. He…" Legolas trailed off. He went to the window and looked out before turning back to Aragorn. "Something has happened," the Prince said, his eyes wide. He grabbed his bow and headed briskly for the door.

"What? Legolas?" the man called, confused, glancing quickly out of the window and seeing nothing, before following after the elf.

"What is it? What's happened?" Legolas asked the barman, returning to the common tongue, as he emerged back into the main room of the inn. The occupants, who's numbers were unchanged since Legolas had arrived, all stopped their chatter and laughter and stared at the elf in their midst, none having taking any note of him upon arrival.

"Nothing," the barman said, looking confused as Aragorn appeared behind the elf. "Nothing's happened, good sirs."

"Something is wrong. I can feel it," Legolas said to himself as much as to anyone else in the room.

"Legolas," Aragorn said slowly, "Nothing has…"

The door to the inn flew open and two women, a teenage boy and two younger children barged through.

"Orcs!" One of the women yelled, "Orcs on our farm! Not five miles east of here!"

Legolas turned to Aragorn. Aragorn looked at Legolas's bow. "Are you any good with that thing?" he asked.

Legolas tilted his head. "Not bad."

"Let's go."