The Silvan (Lord of the Rings-Legolas)[Wattys2016]

Chapter 7: Brother

The day dawned painfully slowly, or at least it seemed that way to one who had not slept at all, waiting only for this moment when the sun would peak over the horizon and cast its rays upon the most significant day of his life; the day he would become a novice warrior.

Emotion took him and a tear escaped his half-closed eyes, rolling down his temple and onto the pillow below.

A finger brushed over the furry leaves of a fern that had grown tall and strong beside his window and warmth dissipated the leaden weight in his chest, enough at least to clear his mind so that it could continue its morning's wanderings.

He thought of Amareth then. His message would not have reached her in time – she would not be present; there would be no one from his family to see him take his vows. No one? he asked himself bitterly. Amareth was the only member of family he had.

That cold, biting, all too familiar feeling gnawed at his mind then, the one that assailed him every time his family came to mind but for the first time it was not so much anger he felt, but sadness, a strange sense of loss that he could not explain, for what had he ever had to lose? he scoffed.

No mother to cry for love of him, no father to smile in pride – alone, he was alone...

He was a befeft child.

Anger clenched his jaw, anger at himself for his weakness. Had he not put these feelings behind him? Had he not vowed to accept the truth for what it was? The only family Legolas had, apart from Amareth, were his friends, the Company – Ram en' and Idhreno. They were the siblings he had never had - had always wanted.

He breathed deeply and rolled onto one side, turning his back on the room and facing the green-lined window.

A warrior, a servant of the king. That was his aim, to serve some purpose – to mean something – to someone.

A frown flickered over his features for he had never thought of it that way before, that his obsession with being a warrior had something to do with feeling worthy. Amareth had loved him as a mother, and if he added to that the amount of adoptive uncles he had in the village – nay, it was not for lack of love and it was not for shame for having no father.

There was something else, something he had never understood, as if a part of him were missing; as if his purpose was still veiled, however much it drove him relentlessly upon his path.

All he could conclude was that becoming a warrior was an innate necessity, and yet he had recently come to suspect that it was not the end of the road, simply a necessary step towards a bigger thing, something that escaped him, like river rain through open fingers; but what more could he aspire to than being captain?

Turning onto his back now, the first stirrings of his comrades brought his mind further into focus, and the lingering self-pity and confusion began to fade, not away but behind his mask that was rapidly falling into place. There would be no proud parents to smile and nod at him as he took his vows and that was a fact, one he must now accept with quiet dignity. Instead he would bask in his friendship with Ram en' and Idhreno, in the camaraderie with his newfound friends, and in the hope that family could be replaced with these his brothers, his fellow warriors.

Yes, that is what he would do, he resolved with a smile. It did not matter that he had no father to squeeze his shoulder in pride, it did not matter at all.

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