Legolas and Meril
Thranduil's first-born scrutinised the newborn's features thoroughly,
searching for some outward sign of the internal connection he sensed,
in vain. True, the babe was so young it might be difficult to
determine exactly what his adult appearance would come to be, yet it
was already plain that there would be little resemblance to the former
heir. This child was as much an image of the Woodland King as
Legolas was a mirror of the previous Queen.
Bright and intelligent, Taurant's eyes were green and fathomless as the
unreadable depths of the sea, rimmed in gold and flecked as if Ariel
had dipped her hands into the searing sun and shaken away the excess
drops of light upon the little elf. His thatch of golden hair was
not the colour of windblown wheat bleached white under Anor's glare, as
was Legolas', but rather the rich hue of honey harvested late from the
hive, the very shade of his sire's long locks. The shape and set
of his rose tinted lips already bespoke the firm resolve for which his
father was renowned. Even his cherubic chin bore a hint of the
headstrong resilience it would surely come to profess as he aged,
marking him as Thranduil's own and Oropher's grandchild.
Legolas was disappointed. None would ever see the link between
either of his siblings and himself, and so the rumours would go on
concerning his paternity. Why he had thought there would be some
indication of his relationship to the babe he could not now imagine,
for his appearance was so strikingly similar to Ningloriel's, to whom
this infant had no connection of any kind. Taurant looked
Sindarin through and through, for no resemblance to Meril could be
discerned either. No wonder Thranduil was so overjoyed; the
heritage of his heir was indisputable.
Lindalcon gently tugged on his friend's arm and guided him to the small
sofa where Gwilith was patiently waiting. As soon as her big
brother was seated she snuggled against the Tawarwaith and smiled up
into his joyous countenance. Valtamar's son stepped back to
better appreciate the sight of the three siblings, overwhelmed by the
absolute contentment gracing the beleaguered warrior's eyes as Legolas
gazed first upon the babe and then to his little sister in turn.
It was difficult for Lindalcon to reconcile the pyjama clad elf before
him with the diminished and suffering soul he had been watching over
for the last two weeks, for Legolas looked totally at ease in this
domestic attitude.
At last the archer lifted his face in Lindalcon's direction and
bestowed a look of such staggering gratitude that the younger elf could
not hold back and joined the trio, throwing his arms around Legolas
gleefully.
"I can never thank you properly for this, Lindalcon," Legolas
whispered, unwillingly breaking the silence, concerned he would break
into tears if he tried too many words. Lindalcon squeezed tightly
in response, apparently unable to master speech yet either.
Gwilith was not so handicapped.
"Limlas, now show Tauron the book!" she decreed and flourished the
tattered volume of pictures she had held to so firmly during the
terrifying journey through the tunnels. The child was unable to
express how relieved her heart felt to find Legolas here with her
again. Gwilith only knew that the three of them belonged together
in the same way that she and Taurant belonged to Lindalcon. And
while she could not make any sense of the sorrow surrounding her
grown-up brother, she instinctively felt his soul's rejuvenation in
response to the bond being forged between them all.
Legolas took the book with a smile and shifted Taurant so he could see,
though he knew well enough the infant could make nothing of the
images. This was for Gwilith, after all.
And for me.
He paged slowly through the book as Gwilith proudly announced the name
of each animal and plant displayed, looking alternately to Legolas and
Lindalcon for confirmation as she uttered the syllables carefully so as
to instruct her baby brother correctly. The older two were highly
amused by her insistent accuracy, given her enjoyment of substituting
memes so freely when the ideas concerned proper given names.
Perhaps it was not so unusual, though, for surely she would want
Taurant to grasp the cleverness of her little game once he grew a bit.
But Taurant was only days old and more attuned to his body's responses
than anything else. Having been dressed in dry cloths and fed to
satisfaction, and now held in the warm comfort of his oldest brother's
embrace, the babe was soon drifting into sleep. He exhaled a soft
sighing yawn that forced his delicate lips into a perfect oval as his
gleaming eyes hid behind thickly lashed lids squinched shut in the
effort of the involuntary action.
Legolas turned him to rest more comfortably, soft velvet cheek against
his shoulder, and was close to rapture to find that the infant had
grabbed up a fistful of his ungainly locks and with the same hand
planted a chubby thumb into the softly sucking mouth. The archer
carefully leaned his cheek against the downy strands of baby hair,
smiling to feel his brother's heart pattering against his own so
strongly. He glanced at Gwilith, who had stopped her recitation
and was staring at the two.
"It is alright, Gwilith, Taurant saw most of the pictures. You
can show him the rest when he wakens," said Legolas softly.
"Shhh!" the Woodland princess shushed him indignantly with a severe
scowl upon her dainty face such that both her older brothers had to
struggle to refrain from bursting into laughter at such a display of
affronted wrath upon so angelic a countenance. "Tauron sleeping
now, Legolas, do not wake him up! You be very quiet and I say the
rest. Next time, you say pictures," she commanded, unmindful that
her voice was as new to her baby brother as Legolas' and would be just
as likely to disturb the infant's sleep.
More to the point, Meril's sharp ears would easily detect the presence
of an unexpected speaker and bring her inside forthwith to confront
whoever dared intrude upon her family's privacy, and so Legolas thought
it wise to accede to Gwilith's request.
Legolas wrapped his free arm around Gwilith and drew her closer,
realising there might never be another opportunity such as this,
desperately hoping his siblings would remember their brief moment of
familial unity. As Gwilith spoke, he hugged them both, carefully
but tightly, fighting back his sorrow at having to leave them
soon. He wanted them to recall their big brother with happiness,
knowing he loved them fully and would never part from them under normal
conditions.
They must not think I abandoned them!
Legolas suddenly became horrified that this would be so, for in fact he
must return to the Tasks. He would be forced to forsake
them. With abrupt clarity he registered the dismay this would
cause, for a child could neither be told of such things as the
Judgement he faced nor be fed lies. Elflings were especially
gifted in comprehending the distinction between falsehood and verity;
no explanation would allay the undertone of disgrace colouring his
departure. Even as he had fled from the woodsmen's village
without a good-bye to Cemendur and his sisters, Legolas would go from
the city and his sibling's lives. He switched his pleading gaze to
Lindalcon.
The younger elf understood somehow and patted the wild elf's shoulder
for reassurance. His smile conveyed his promise to remind these
little ones of their warrior brother, for he knew what it was to have a
loved one forgotten and would never allow such a grief to befall his
brother and sister.
Gwilith had become silent once more as she felt Legolas' tension and
she stared into his worried eyes with compassionate distress. She
quickly plopped the book upon his lap and scrambled up on her knees in
order to reach his face. Thereupon she planted a quick succession
of kisses, covering as much of his visage as she could with her
tangibly damp adoration, arms worming their way through his hair and
past the slumbering babe's head to clasp around his neck. Drawing
back to observe whether her usual remedy for her Ada's troubled spirits
worked on her brother, the child was rewarded instead with the gleaming
sparkle of tears pooling in the Tawarwaith's orbs.
"Legolas, you say pictures now. I say them next time," she
whispered into his ear, thinking in her child's mind that this was what
her big brother wanted and having denied him she had caused his sadness.
Legolas smiled and blinked back the threatening flow, unable to stop a
couple of determined drops from making their way free of his
lashes. His baby sister did not allow the proof of his distress
to travel far, however, and whisked them away with two delicate swipes
of her gentle fingers. For added measure, she repeated her
initial contact with Legolas, pressing her palms against his cheeks to
force his mouth into a ridiculous pout, which she then kissed with a
delighted laugh.
"Say pictures, Limlas!"
"Nay, you say them. I will listen and remember. It is well,
Gwilwileth," Legolas whispered back.
"Aye, finish the book, Gwilith. Legolas cannot stay long and he
wants to hear you name all the pictures perfectly!" Lindalcon added to
distract the child from her oldest brother's despondency. Sure
enough, the order from Gwilith's second oldest brother drew a petulant
frown to her lips and a defiant shake of her chestnut locks.
"Lind'on, be quiet! Me and Limlas share the book!" she retorted,
drawing a snicker from the Tawarwaith. There was no doubt who
ruled the household of the Woodland King.
Before Gwilith could resume her recitation, however, there was a
muffled call from the courtyard below and the music of the quartet
ceased abruptly. Another shout from the guard at the postern
preceded the noisy and typically dramatic arrival of Talagan's troop
from their successful campaign upon the Orcs of the Misty
Mountains. The cargo they had acquired raised an astonished
hubbub among the occupants of the barracks' grounds and, true to the
inquisitive nature of the Sylvan folk, a large crowd gathered and talk
began at once concerning the unexpected prisoner.
Thranduil leaped to his feet, knocking over a pitcher of water in his
haste, and strode to the edge of the balcony to stare in disbelieving
amazement at the chaotic scene below.
My eyes must be bewitched for surely that cannot be Erestor of
Imladris trussed up like a common thieving poacher from Laketown!
A smug grin caressed the Woodland King's lips. This was an
unexpected boon; here was the final proof of the conspiracy he
envisioned, for what possible excuse could Elrond's most trusted
advisor have for being at large within the Greenwood without the shield
of a diplomatic errand?
Unless Elrond has demoted the seneschal to messenger!
Radagast the Brown was dismounting and Talagan, grabbing his unwanted
guest by the back of the leggings, gave a laborious heave and shoved
him head first over the charger's shoulders into the dust of the
well-trampled yard. Laughter greeted the outraged cry of pain,
both for his injury and his pride, that issued from the Noldo Lord as
his face met the hard packed earth.
"Enough!" intoned the Maia and moved over to assist Erestor, who was
trying to right himself to at least a sitting position as blood
streamed from his bruised and swelling nose. The seldom seen
Istar noticed the couple on the balcony above and met the King's
glittering gaze. "Thranduil, come down please." Aiwendil asked
politely but left no room for argument; a wizard of any colour
outranked an elf, even though he be Ingwë himself.
The Woodland King raised imperious brows and sent a furious frown in
Radagast's direction at the peremptory command but turned to Meril to
make his apologies nonetheless. He found his mate had risen also
and stood with arms crossed and a definite glare of displeasure marring
her comely features as she gazed upon her husband's captain.
"Go then, make no requital for this, Hervenn nîn; Talagan shall
bear the burden for removing you from my side so soon upon my
maternity's completion," she growled quietly yet loud enough for the
soldier to hear her. It mattered not to the heir's mother that
the Sinda warrior had not been present to know the nativity had been
accomplished.
Talagan grimaced to note her displeasure, for Meril's influence over
Thranduil was paramount, and he could expect the King to initiate some
sort of discipline, even though they had been comrades in arms since
the Last Alliance and friends from their childhood days. Talagan
wondered that the value he held had diminished so quickly after the
second wife moved into the stronghold, despite all his long years of
service for his Lord and King.
Wordlessly Meril presented her cheek for the fleeting impression of
Thranduil's lips and smoothed her hand against his shoulders as he
turned and headed down the rock-hewn stairway to the garden
below. Her attention followed his progress as he strode beneath
the bobbing heads of her favourite, the sunflowers, and passed through
the wrought iron gate to the courtyard.
Then, with silence only a Wood Elf could achieve, the Royal Consort
traversed the balcony to its adjoining archway with Taurant's nursery.
The sudden cessation of the harmonious strains from the gifted elven
singers had alerted that cosy chamber's occupants to the calamitous
disruption of their cautiously constructed conniving. Lindalcon
jumped with as much alacrity as had his stepfather; he pulled
insistently on the archer's arm to force him up as well. Gwilith
saw Lindalcon's frenetic attempts to steer Legolas back toward the
frightful tunnels and placed herself on the opposite side of the fallen
archer, shoving against his legs with all her might. She did not
want her Fish Leaf to disappear into that darkness again.
"Hurry!" Lindalcon hissed in a barely audible whisper, "Gwilith, stop
that!" Yet neither elf obeyed him, and the Tawarwaith seemed to be
resisting the attempt to eject him from the room as much as the little
princess was. Lindalcon ceased shoving and opened his arms to
accept his infant brother, assuming this was the reason, but Legolas
stood firm while an unaccountably stubborn expression of denial
overtook his features. Lindalcon's mouth gaped and his eyes
widened in alarm at this turn of events, but before he could speak
further he heard the step of his Naneth upon the threshold to the open
porch.
"Nana!" Gwilith sang out in delight and danced over to grasp her
mother's fingers, tugging to coax her further into the room from the
spot upon which she had frozen. "Limlas is here; we show Tauron
the book!" she exclaimed with gleeful pride and pulled more insistently
when her Nana remained still. The elfling's merry smile dimmed
when she tilted her cheerful features upward to examine her mother's
expression and found her rigid and angry, eyes locked upon the sight of
Taurant asleep in the arms of the kinslayer.
"So I see, darling." Meril found her voice at last as she stared upon
the fallen prince cradling her little son protectively against his
chest.
Protectively! She had to make a great effort to
banish
the wary belligerence from her voice and manner as she met her
daughter's concerned eyes and smiled warmly. Meril would not
allow the seamy side of the Wood Elves' world to taint her child at so
young an age. There was no need for Gwilwileth to be told why
this elf was unwelcome.
"Naneth, I can explain this," her first-born began, and wished
instantly he had remained silent when her livid gaze of restrained rage
turned upon him fully. Lindalcon flinched and stepped back,
remorsefully dropping his head to avoid having to look upon her
unspoken accusations. This would not be soon forgiven.
"Nay, Lindalcon. Take Gwilwileth to her rooms for she has missed
her tea and must be hungry. I will make all the explanations
required," spoke Legolas boldly before the irate inu could express her
wrath against her oldest child.
"Oh yes, Lind'on! Gwilith so starved! You kept tea away!"
The little one returned to her pattern of baby-speech in response to
the obvious strain in the atmosphere. She understood Naneth was
angry with Lindalcon and hoped the reason was this oversight. The
elfling only wanted everyone to be happy again and smiled at Lindalcon
endearingly as she darted to his side to clasp his hand in hers.
Lindalcon glanced quickly at his mother, noting her brief nod of
assent, and then once more looked to Legolas. The Tawarwaith met
his eyes with a calmly reassuring smile as he softly stroked the silky
strands adorning Taurant's crown, and in an instant the young usurper's
anxiety vanished. He found that he was not sorry at all for what
he had done. He was quite proud, in fact, and squared his
shoulders before he faced Meril again.
"It was right, Naneth," he said firmly and then made his retreat.
Just before the brother and sister reached the door, Gwilwileth
snatched her hand free and flew back to Legolas' side, wrapping her
chubby arms around his knees and hugging hard as she bent her head back
to make sure he was smiling.
Indeed he was, and Legolas crouched down to encircle his little sister
in a final embrace, resting his brow upon the top of her head before
settling a sound kiss there. When he pulled back he discovered
the child beaming happily and he returned the exuberant grin.
"Thank you Gwilwileth; you said the pictures perfectly. Go and
have your tea now." He released her reluctantly and stood.
"You say them next time, Legolas!" she rejoined and skipped back to
Lindalcon's side, pleased to have restored the status quo as she exited
the room with the carefree jubilation of innocence.
As soon as the door shut Legolas strode to Meril and handed over the
babe.
"I would speak with you, Meril," he began before she could utter a
sound. "Tuck Taurant in and let us speak softly, for what we
discuss should not become the little one's burden, ever."
Meril was struck dumb by the events she had just witnessed and could
only stare in undisguised shock as she mechanically reached out and
collected her infant up in her arms. Vision fixed upon the wild
elf, her perception recorded the incongruous impression of both menace
and tenderness emanating from his person. Somehow Legolas had
managed not only to meet and befriend her daughter but had clearly
established a strong bond with all three of her offspring.
I was wrong to allow Lindalcon this friendship, for it has generated
this unseemly connection! Gwilwileth must not be marked by his
ill-fate, and Taurant need never know he had a predecessor., she
mused, cautiously regarding the recovering warrior. Perhaps
Thranduil's assessment of his potential as an adversary was not
exaggerated.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded coldly, pacing across the room
and back as the infant stirred in her rigid grasp.
"As I said; we must speak together for there is much I would say to
you," Legolas replied. Though mild in timbre and tone his voice
remained as steady and strong as the trees he held so dear, his words
clothed with the power of Tawar even as green leaves draped the
branches of the canopy in summer.
This was not the soft-spoken, unassuming archer she remembered from her
days as Valtamar's mate. Meril faced the Tawarwaith, wild and
primitive, barely withholding a deep rage she quailed to have
revealed. Somehow the fact that he held this anger in abeyance
did not quiet her uneasiness. Abruptly she strode to the cradle
and did as he had bid her, trying to assemble some remnant of the calm
authority her role as the mother of the Woodland Realm's new prince
granted. As soon as she faced Legolas again she realised her
promotion would not impress the forest's champion.
Yet, she would not concede so quickly. Folklore's precedent or
not, Legolas was still noss-dagnir, accursed off-shoot of an illicit
affair, abandoned child of the faithless Queen and Meril felt she
should show the outcast his proper place. She lifted her chin and
folded her arms against her bosom hiding her trepidation with what she
hoped presented as cold contempt for the condemned perpetrator of her
first husband's demise.
"You speak with assurance you have no right to assume!" she
began. "I have neither need nor desire to hold discourse with
such as you."
"Then Thranduil has not revealed to you his plans?"
"Nothing does the King withhold from me. Our union is not such as
you observed between him and your mother."
"Truly? You are both fortunate and blessed. Yet, I would
not have thought you so eager to have Erebor brought up again." Legolas
retorted with sharp and icy ire.
How dare she speak of my mother!
He
had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the King's consort startle and
turn an unnaturally pale shade as this statement met her ears.
"So, he has failed to enlighten you," he gloated without even trying to
mask a sneering smirk.
"I do not believe you! Thranduil has no intention of reopening
such a grievous hurt upon our Realm."
"No need have I to be false. Such an investigation can do no
further harm to me, yet would I forestall it. I am not as
ignorant of all that transpired as some would imagine, Meril, yet for
the sake of my brother and sister I would rather none of this come to
light."
"What?" she spat indignantly to cover the impact of that sentence and
sought a place to sit before her strength failed her. Lightly she
lowered herself to the rocker, never taking her narrowed and hostile
eyes from the wild archer's penetrating glare. "I do not
understand you!" she prevaricated.
"Aye, you do. Yet your guilt prevents you from owning your
responsibility. However, I am not the one you should worry over;
there are several others who suspect the same. Indeed, it is
through Mithrandir that my comprehension of this mess was
clarified. Fearfaron determined the truth independently, but he
has not kept the ideas to himself and has shared with Iarwain."
"What?" she sputtered feebly and her hand found its way to her face to
pass shakily across her suddenly parched lips. Eyes locked upon the
elf's before her, the belligerent attitude shaping Meril's expression
transformed into an outlook of unabashed dread under the blaze of
righteous vehemence highlighting the archer's fair face.
And then Legolas pitied her, for he could see she did not understand
his motivation and could only sense her world about to devolve into a
more bitter sorrow than that which she had already endured. He
sighed lightly and his steely gaze softened as he held up a hand and
shook his head.
"I am not the one you need to fear," he restated. "That is my
brother sleeping there, and Gwilwileth is my sister. For them do
I act; even as you wish to safeguard their hearts so do I," he said as
he pointed to the cradle.
Instead of inspiring confidence in his faithfulness, she viewed his
compassion as weakness, and surmised the whole scene was no more than a
bluff. He was playing upon her instincts as a mother, trying to
stir her heart with false claims of filial devotion toward her
young. This idea enraged her.
It is all a ruse, he knows nothing for certainty and neither does
the
wizard or the counsellor!
Fearfaron she cared not a whit about, for everyone knew he was besotted
with the fallen prince. With a renewed sense of control Meril
snidely sent him a brittle smile of dogmatic disdain.
"Unwarranted confidence or rather foolish pretence brands your
speech! Whatever you imagine in that depraved mind of yours is no
concern of mine or of the Council's. And I am sure of your
relationship to my offspring, child of Ningloriel, for it is
non-existent! I am one of the few who knew of your guardsman's
coupling with the faithless Queen."
Meril flaunted her gift for gathering gossip and winnowing out the germ
of truth from which it sprang. She flung out this rebuke with
deceptive carelessness emphasising her indifference with a toss of her
bronze-hued hair. She was pleased to see the confirmation of her
deduction in the flash of pain that shook the wild elf's frame as he
unconsciously wrapped his arms around his body as though a sudden blast
of winter's breath had found its way within the stronghold. Yet,
she did not understand the true cause of the archer's distress, and
learned all too quickly that he was not ashamed of his mother's
behaviour.
"That is twice now you have let reference to my mother pass your lips
with less than kindly intent," he uttered in low tones as he raised his
fiery gaze once more to her smug complacent one. "I will not hear
another," he warned and heard her gasp as her soul responded to this
command. "I say again, for myself no worse can conditions be, for
I am already banished and outcast. My siblings, however," he
emphasised the relationship, "have much to lose! If you love
them, as I know that you must, then cease your sniping jibes and hear
me."
"I hear you! Why should you seek to halt the investigation, for
you have much to gain if you can convince the Council of your
innocence! What trickery are you about, hecilo? There is
nought you would speak that I need know of," her words were bold yet
her voice trembled and the potency of their impact waned under the
stern appraisal of the Tawarwaith. Meril drew in another audible
breath and darted her eyes towards the balcony, desperation overcoming
her artificial pretension once more. "Go from here, or I shall
scream for Thranduil!"
"Would you so terrorise your child?" demanded Legolas
incredulously. "Taurant and Gwilwileth must not be forced to live
under such a weight of shame that forebodes to crush them! Are
you truly willing to chance their future well-being rather than trade
words with me, whom you have wronged?"
"Wronged you? How can you accuse me, when it is Valtamar whose
life was wasted and Lindalcon who suffered that loss, not you! I
am the one that should be angry and you have no right…"
"Silence!" Legolas took a step towards her; fists clenched and face
flushed though his voice was pitched low. "I have every right and
will hear no more of your threats. Do not dare use your children
as your shield! Know that I consider Lindalcon as much my brother
as Taurant and I will protect him! Do you understand,
Meril? I would have him forever ignorant of the truth of Erebor."
"What is it that you want, hecilo?" she whispered harshly, fear shining
in her emerald green eyes.
"No outcast am I! The Council's Laws have not the power to sunder
me from Tawar!" he hissed back as he leaned over her. "If you
cannot speak my mother-name, then use the woodsmen's christening:
Tirn-en-Tawar!"
"What do you want?" she could scarcely contain her wail and had to
cover her mouth to keep from waking the infant so near at hand.
Legolas drew a steadying breath and backed away. He had not set
out to frighten her yet her words had angered him more than he would
have liked and triggered this outburst. He reminded himself that
Meril was cornered and fighting with any means at her disposal to get
free of him, and might in another moment of panic rouse Taurant or even
shout for her husband. Somehow he had to make her calm down and
understand him.
"I want you to stop Thranduil from holding this investigation. If
it goes forward, everyone will have to be questioned, Meril, everyone,"
he said more gently and gazed at her with all the compassion he could
muster. "Whatever happened then means nothing. What matters
is the future of these young ones, Lindalcon included! Do you not
agree?" he pressed hoping to uncover that strong maternal instinct he
had seen evidence of so often in the past, and had heard in her voice
just hours ago. He watched her intently as her thoughts churned,
mentally writhing between relenting to trust him and stubbornly
protecting her singular interests.
"Thranduil truly loves me. We are right together!" she said with
frantic insistence. "Our children are innocent and do not deserve
to be harmed by a past they had no part in."
"And so it must remain, then, this union you have forged," said the
wild elf gently and nodded to encourage her to continue.
"He would not believe any lies spoken against me!"
"Nay, he would not. But the truth, that is another matter.
He would not be able to deny what he knew in his heart to be
true. I for one do not wish him to have the opportunity to learn
what that entails."
"How would he be taught such knowledge, Tawarwaith? Your words
would never sway him, nor does he hold much regard for
Maltahondo. Talagan already tried to have you cleared and
Thranduil heeded him not!"
"The words will not be his to heed or deny. It is the Council
that will hear these things, and they who will instruct your
husband." Legolas sighed and sat down on the settee facing her,
relieved that she was rational enough to reason out the
situation. "The hearing will be public, all will be allowed to
attend. Lindalcon, as Iarwain's page, will be there. Every
warrior that was present at Erebor will be questioned."
Deep silence weighted the air in the room as the gravity of the fallen
prince's declarations eclipsed the Meril's radiant vision of her
children's carefree future. She considered carefully the archer's
words and recalled each of her first husband's comrades.
"Nay, not every warrior!" her eyes gleamed in triumph and her
hard-heartedness reasserted itself. "Some are dead, and one has
gone to the West."
Legolas frowned, for he knew not how to make Meril view the situation
objectively. What she said was true, but he had already come to
understand that none of the warriors had been unmarked by the battle,
and all of them must have their memories and dreams haunted by the
replay of the dreadful day, even as were his. What Fearfaron had
surmised and Mithrandir suspected, surely some among the company's
remaining soldiers had reasoned out as well.
A cavalry of archers and spear-casters knew each other, depended upon
one another's skill and loyalty, understood and counteracted
individual's weaknesses to strengthen and maintain the unity and
integrity of the company. Centuries of daily sparring,
patrolling, fighting, and surviving shaped these groups into a form of
colonial symbiosis unparalleled in other facets of Sylvan
culture. Everyone in Talagan's troop knew who were the broken
threads within the sturdy cloth of their interwoven lives, and not even
Legolas would place himself in this category. The warriors knew:
the tragedy of Erebor was not a product of the Tawarwaith's flaws.
His opportunity for rebuttal was non-existent, however, for he
discerned the all too recognisable footfalls of the Woodland King
crossing into the outer sitting rooms and parlours of the royal
suite. The disowned heir was not ready to confront his estranged
sire and he rose from the sofa quickly. With a last glance upon
the slumbering infant, Legolas made his escape, hastening through the
open archway to the balcony and down the steps to the garden below.
Tbc
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