Shadow of Mirkwood

Replaced

The death of a great man demands the birth of a great son

The day dawned with a crispness in the air, the sunlight casting a gentle glow over the palace courtyard. Legolas felt the chill penetrate his bones, a stark reminder of the weeks he had spent confined within the palace walls.

A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, a familiar sensation that accompanied the overwhelming flood of emotions and responsibilities he now faced.

As they made their way through the courtyard, Thranduil led the procession with regal authority, his subjects bowing low in deference. Lytharial's presence elicited hoarse cries of recognition, but she remained stoic, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

The vibrant hues of the surroundings seemed to mock Legolas's turbulent thoughts, intensifying the sense of disarray that clouded his mind.

Approaching a grand white summer house, Thranduil directed the guards to seat Lytharial at the far end, a silent gesture of disdain that did not go unnoticed by Faras, who shook his head in disapproval.

Thranduil wasted no time in addressing the gathering, his voice resonating with authority.

    "Today," he began, glancing at Legolas, "I must appoint a new general. Legolas, you have the honor of making the selection."

Legolas stood firm, refusing to take a seat as he leaned against the summer house wall, his arms crossed defiantly.

Surveying the assembled candidates, his gaze lingered on each in turn. Fernas, the seasoned warrior he knew well; a general of formidable stature; an unfamiliar noble elf; and a woman whose delicate appearance belied any hint of martial prowess.

     "I choose Lytharial," Legolas declared firmly, his voice unwavering.

Thranduil's reaction was swift and cutting. 

     "Lytharial is no longer an option," he retorted, his tone laced with finality.

Lytharial's eyes dropped to the ground, bracing herself for what would come next, her heart heavy with resignation.

As Legolas stood poised to make his decision, his gaze fixed on Fernas, a trusted figure he had known for years, Thranduil's insistence halted his swift choice.

     "No," said Thranduil, "you must see them all first, how they all fight, you must test them."

In response, Legolas replied dryly, 

     "There's no need for that. I've known Fernas almost all my life; he'd make a great general."

However, the woman sitting closest to the king interjected, 

     "If you would excuse me, my prince, you may test me."

Lytharial weighed her carefully, her features obscured by shadows. She wore a floor-length burgundy dress with sheer long sleeves and had flowers in her hair. Despite having seen her before, Lytharial couldn't discern her face.

Legolas scoffed, giving her a cold stare.

     "You look like you wouldn't know the difference between a knife and a dagger".

     "I would disagree with you," the woman confronted Legolas, standing up and silently stepping towards him.

Underestimating her, Legolas drew his twin blades, offering her a three-step lead before the fight commenced.

Without hesitation, she rushed at him, daggers appearing in both hands. Unexpectedly swift, she struck him with the hilt of her dagger on his wrist, forcing him to take a quick step back.