Wanderlust (Legolas LOTR)

Silhouettes

Wanderlust

Chapter 2: Silhouettes

Legolas arrived at the vineyard Faendol just as the sun was sinking low behind the dark silhouettes of the forest behind him. Before him set gently curving fields with bright green vines and star white blossoms against the deep red of the soil. Even the air felt fresher, brighter, out here, Legolas reflected, and his heart gladdened at the sight of all the open land before him, and the clean-cut lines of the elven manor house against a shady copse. In the distance he could see several workers carefully pruning the vines, and for just a moment Legolas wondered what it must be like to have that kind of life, not to be the prince of Mirkwood.

Pushing the thought aside, Legolas made his way to the front door of the main house, and rapped politely on the front door, which was framed by cascading blossom on bookend style urns.

The door opened to reveal an elleth with an ink-stained work apron standing before him with a hand on one hip. She tilted her head in surprise-clearly he was not whom she expected.

"Greetings," Legolas began politely. "I am here on behalf of the king to discuss your yearly ledger. Is Belchuil here?"

"Oh!" she startled. "My father and his head vintner just left the day before yesterday to take the south field casks down to Estodell for the market days. "

Legolas' face must have shown his disappointment at having his holiday cut short, for she quickly added, "But if it is the ledger you wish to address, I would be happy to be of assistance. I regularly help my father with his accounts."

Legolas studied her for a second. She was a hand shorter than he, with wide innocent eyes, darkened by a generous fringe of thick lashes. She seemed earnest enough, and if she helped her father with the books as she claimed then perhaps she was the one who wrote the manuscript he found!

"That sounds agreeable" he began to say, but was interrupted by a markedly older lady coming to stand behind the maiden.

"Thaliniel, who is our guest, and will you not show him inside?" she queried.

"Oh, I am sorry to keep you standing here!" she exclaimed and gestured inward. "Please come in! Aunt Maeben, this elf is a messenger from the king. He is here to see about our yearly reports that I sent in a few weeks ago."

Now, in this moment, Legolas reached a crossroad of a moral nature. He did not correct the young girl when she referred to him as a messenger; for in fact, he later justified his next decision with himself, was he not doing that very thing? So in a split second decision that he would come to regret painfully later, he allowed the pretense to continue.

"Yes, of course," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Please, call me L-" he improvised "-Locien." He could not very well tell them his given name, for he would immediately be recognized as the prince! He just blurted out the first name he thought of, and for crying out loud, it was the name of his horse, but it was all he could think of in the moment! His ears started to burn in the unfortunate way they always did when he tried to lie. He really was terrible at any sort of deception.

Yet the ladies of the house, if they heeded the pink tinge to the tips of the ears, only took it as a mild form of social awkwardness. The poor ellon clearly did not get out very often.

With a slight grin, Legolas happily followed them into the house, reveling in his decision to change into his simple, plain traveling clothes before he left the palace. If he played his cards right, he could have several days, maybe even a week, of playing hooky from his royal duties.

"We are very pleased to meet you, Master Locien," Maeben intoned. "We are honored to have someone come from the royal courts to our vineyard. I can tell you that my brother Belchuil could not be prouder about being accepted into the king's consortium this year. Our business has not only increased, but we are also very pleased be on the royal vintner list."

Legolas sat down and was about to speak when someone else flew into the sitting room at a startling pace. It was a much younger elleth with big loopy curls and a terrified expression on her face.

"Orcs!" she screeched at the top of her lungs and ran past the settee, heedless of the ladies' visitor. "Orcs have broken into the fortress!"

Legolas jumped up instinctually, his hand going to the knife at his belt, only to see the older elleth, Thaliniel, draw a small short sword from her big apron pocket. "Ready the defenses then, Narylfiel!" she shouted back to her sister.

"We'll cut them off at the gate," Narylfiel bellowed, and then darted from the room.

Thaliniel smiled apologetically at her guest. "Orc attack," she explained as she sheepishly tucked the sword back into the waste band of her apron. "We have at least four or five a day. My younger sister fancies herself one of the fearless forest guard."

Legolas sat back down and let himself smile. "Then I am glad we can trust her with the outer defenses?" he quipped, trying to put the ladies back at ease.

He met Thaliniel's eyes for a moment, and she nodded approvingly.

Aunt Maeben stood. "Master Locien, we are honored by your presence. Although my brother may not be home to speak with you about the reports, you must stay for dinner and enjoy the comforts of our vineyard while you wait for his return. In the meantime, I am sure Thaliniel will be happy to assist you."

"Yes, of course!" Thaliniel straightened from her slouch, and beckoned for the prince to follow her to one of the guest rooms. "We will put you here, Master Locien; this room undoubtedly has one of the nicer views of the whole manor, and this window here looks right past this tall oak, perfectly situated for climbing out... Ahem. Not that I would know anything about sneaking out of the house at night of course."

"Of course not," Legolas agreed amiably and added, "but you must call me L-Locien." He stumbled over the name again, but covered his embarrassment by joining her at the window, and the pair leaned against the wide, open frame and looked out past the verdant, dipping hills to where the sky grew hazy, and distant mountains smudged the horizon.

Legolas cut his eyes toward her; he could practically feel the desire radiating off her, not for his person, of course, but for the promise of those distant mountains. She longed to go there, he could tell, and in that moment, Legolas knew decisively that she was the one who had written the misplaced passage in the annual reports. He desperately wanted to broach the subject with her, but the words just would not come. He hated feeling awkward talking to elleths. Usually back in the palace, they would approach him, and practically carry on the entire conversation as well. He was used to being the 'approachee,' not the 'approacher.'

He sighed and turned away. "Thank you. Perhaps later we can speak of the annual reports?"

Thaliniel straightened. "Yes, certainly. I should probably go and collect my little sister. Who knows what she has gotten into by now?" She excused herself, and Legolas was left alone with his thoughts.

The prince was torn between being extremely pleased with his current situation and feeling completely guilty for hiding his identity from the family that had so openly accepted him. He knew what his father would think. The king would be appalled that Legolas tried to hide his identity, because Thranduil had always tried to instill a firm sense of pride and confidence in his young soft-spoken son. Legolas groaned. What may have come naturally to the father did not apply to the son. Legolas felt that he fell painfully short of what a royal prince should be, and just maybe that was why this new adventure appealed so much to him. For once in his life, he did not have to be the Prince of Mirkwood.

He could just be himself.

Just Legolas.