Anariel of Erudin: Valmoria's Wrath | Lord of the Rings

17. The Woodland Realm

Our encounter with the great spiders had steered us far off course, forcing us to take an alternative path that stretched deep into the forest and past the mountains. We spent three days navigating through the Wood of Greenleaves, seldom stopping for rest.

Among our party, it was easy to distinguish the elves from the men: as we walked, the elves looked to the trees, embracing their environment with a deep fascination, while the men focused on the ground, carefully watching their aching feet. I too could rarely tear my eyes from the unfamiliar terrain, but I found satisfaction in simply observing the elves and noting their ever-changing expressions, none so dynamic as Legolas's. His eyes alone carried this wondrous gleam that grew brighter and brighter the further we hiked. Occasionally, he would just stop without warning to admire the scenery, and at night I would often find him sitting atop the tree branches, enjoying peaceful solitude.

Honestly, I didn't understand how he could find a gloomy wood of dead trees so captivating, yet he gazed at them like they were the most precious things in the world. But maybe it wasn't simply about the trees; maybe it was the memories attached to them that made him smile. I wondered what it was like all those years ago, when the trees were still green and full of life, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not see it.

"How long since you last walked these woods, Legolas?" Elladan asked.

"Over two hundred years," the elf answered, a nostalgic smile on his face. "After being absent for so long, I admit, I feel like a stranger. Much has changed."

Elladan nodded his head in agreement. "Rivendell felt foreign to me as well."

"You two have lost touch," Elrohir concluded as he hopped onto a fallen tree log, where he stood for a few seconds, inhaling the musty scent of the forest. "I, however, feel perfectly at home here, as if I had never left."

He remained atop the log for only a few more seconds before his twin roughly shoved him off. That was the first time I'd ever heard an elf's feet make noise upon hitting the ground, but the sound was still far too quiet to describe with my limited vocabulary. As soon as he recovered, Elrohir returned the favor earnestly, pushing his brother back so hard that he nearly slammed into one of the trees, but the nimble elf managed to catch himself at the last minute. The two were laughing the entire time.

"What do you think would have happened if we had never departed these lands?" Elladan asked his brother after they'd declared a silent truce between them.

"Well, one thing is certain," Elrohir replied as he gently flicked the bare branch of a tree. "Middle-earth would be much greener."

I'd probably asked myself that same question a million times, especially in the winter, when the sun would disappear for months and the air would become so cold that you couldn't even step outside.

Seven years ago, we experienced the coldest, darkest winter of the Fourth Age. Bundled beneath countless layers of fur, Winnie and I would spend all day in our room just staring out the window and wondering why the sun had gone away. Having no other explanation, I came up with my own: I said it was because all the elves had left Middle-earth. Yes, I blamed them for snow that covered the flowers, for the grey clouds that blocked the sun, and for the sickness that later struck my sister and nearly took her life.

For that winter, I hated the elves. I thought they were selfish for taking away all the beauty of the world and then leaving us with this frigid wasteland. Even now, long after the snow had melted and the sun had returned, a small part of me still harbored those bitter thoughts. Deep down, I believed they were just as responsible for Middle-earth's destruction as we were. After all, they were the ones who left in the first place.