Wanderlust (Legolas LOTR)

Heart Sore

That evening found all the travelers relaxing in a large outside pavilion with an open fire pit, settled on the gentle slopes overlooking the rambling rows of vines curling across the trellises set among the loamy fields. On the far end of the pavilion, Legolas hung back, still mulling over the conversation he had with one of the leaders, Elrestor, of the group from Imladris. He did not trust these elves' intentions, whatever they may have been; so he kept his eye on the two strikingly similar elves, listened, and waited. If his luck held, they would be gone at first light the next morning, and his cover would be safe once more.

His eyes followed the dark-haired elves as they jested with Narylfiel, trying to teach her a song from their own 'Hall of Fire' back in Rivendell, and then Legolas' gaze lingered on her sister, Thaliniel, who perched eagerly on the stone ledge beside her. He reminded himself that his curiosity was purely academic, of course, and that he was chiefly interested in her writing.

Then why did he keep staring at the adorable dent in her upper lip? Or kept noticing how the waves of her rich, chestnut hair gleamed in the firelight?

Purely academic interest, Legolas told himself. Right.

Meanwhile, Narylfiel caught him staring at her sister. The young elleth recalled the hushed conversation, which she had overheard earlier in her father's stables.

"Master Locien," she called and hopped up from her seat between Elrestor and Elfindel to pull a rather reluctant Legolas right into the gathering of elves around the fire. "Sit next to Thaliniel; we would be remiss in our hostess duties if we let you stand all the way over there," she suggested with a gleam in her eye.

Legolas could not help but acquiesce and gave a small smile to Thaliniel as he took a seat by her.

"Master Locien here is from the Elven King's Halls," she informed the other elves proudly and added, "I wager he knows some great songs from their minstrels there. Please sing us one-perhaps about King Thranduil, or-oh, I know-Prince Legolas! I would love to hear more about him."

Legolas turned a delicate shade of green. He coughed politely. "Well," he started to say and then coughed some more, for effect, "I think the smoke from the fire is getting to me."

Thaliniel caught his arm, sensing his embarrassment, perhaps, for being singled out by her irrepressible sibling. "You do not have to sing, Locien, but I would love to hear more about the king or the prince." She turned to the other guests and told them excitedly, "I have seen King Thranduil before, riding with the Royal Guard down the country road that passes by my father's estate. He was nothing short of being, well, incredible-he was all gleaming and silver, so kingly."

"What does Prince Legolas look like?" Narylfiel enquired to Master Locien, her voice all innocence.

At this point, Legolas considered crawling into the firepit itself as a cheerful alternative to Narylfiel's questions.

"I have seen him and King Thranduil before," supplied Elrestor with pitying glance at Legolas. "They actually look very similar-blonde hair, blue eyes-same superior attitudes."

"I do not-" Legolas started and checked himself, "do not...believe that the royal family finds themselves superior to any of their people."

Just then Aunt Maeben joined the group and beckoned for Thaliniel to join her outside the pavilion. Moments later, Maeben left and Thaliniel rejoined the group, shrugging apologetically. "Aunt Maeben sends her regrets that she will not be able to join us tonight. She has been called to the village. One of the women there has gone into labor, and the usual midwife has a broken leg. Maeben did bid us to open up one of the smaller casks from my father's stores, though!" She directed her father's overseer to choose one from the storeroom and bring glasses for everyone. Then their quiet party became very merry indeed.