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”My father will know the second I step into his kingdom,” Legolas explained, hovering at the very edge of Mirkwood.
“Is that a problem?” Aragorn asked, concerned about the elf’s uncharacteristic behavior. “I was under the impression Thranduil endorsed our quest.”
Gimli snorted, hefting his axe.
“My father warned me about this. Here’s one dwarf he wont imprison as easily!”
“No, no.” Legolas shook his head. “You misunderstand. My father will be delighted to see us and let us recover from the road. I have no doubt he will send us away with our spirits and stores replenished once it’s time. It’s just….” Looking peculiarly embarrassed, he fumbled for an explanation. “My father has had very limited dealings with mortals. He spends all his time surrounded by elves, and for good reasons. Even when dealing with Lake Town we usually send an emissary. He…doesn’t do well with mortals. He doesn’t understand you.”
“We’ve dealt with haughty elves before.” Gimli started. “Thinks he’s better than us, does he?”
“Not better, merely different.” Legolas gave up. “Still, what choice do we have? I ask only that you try not to judge him too hard. And I pray you will not hate me.”
Before anyone could answer to that, Legolas took a step into the woods and like a puckered string on a harp, a great surrus went through the lands. It made Frodo think of the time Bilbo plucked the spider’s net; but this was an altogether wholesome sound. The trees shivered and rejoiced that their prince was back and every dry dead leaf on the forest path before them was blown away, revealing a straight even path.
With a deep breath and a straightening of shoulders, Legolas stepped forward.
They had walked only about half a day before they came to the enchanted river and the stone bridge over it, now repaired and guarded by russet wood elves in similar green and grey as their prince. They quickly bowed and smiled as they saw him approach.
“Welcome home, your highness! I see you have picked up yet another litter of strays?” The guard captain smiled.
Legolas smile grew strained.
“It is good to be back underneath the trees once more. Has my father been informed? Please let him know we are a *fellowship* of eight and assure suitable accommodations to all.” The slight emphasis on *fellowship* did not pass anyone by and there were quiet mumblings amongst the guards.
“Of course,” The captain bowed once more and sent one of the guards hurrying down the path ahead of them. “We have been instructed to serve as your guard until we reach the Halls.”
“Why? Have the lands turned so hostile?” Legolas frowned, indicating with a hand that they should get going and stepping in line with the captain.
“There are strange creatures abroad, my prince, and there has been many skirmishes.”
Legolas made enough small talk with the captain along the way that none in the fellowship could ask what the captain had meant by ‘litter of strays’.
“My dear son!” Since Legolas almost never spoke of his father, the fellowships accounts of Thranduil had been mostly from what tales had trickled down from Glóin and Bilbo and they were all a bit surprised at the warmth with which he embraced his son. Legolas hugged him back, but seemed to be whispering something rapidly and quietly into the royal ear. Whatever it was, Thranduil either didn’t hear it or chose to ignore it. “I am delighted to see you back. Come, you must tell me all of your travels and news.”
“Ada, let me introduce you to my comrades first. Chosen by their own will and the wisdom of the Council of Elrond. They are brave and hardy and I am proud to be one of them.” Legolas quickly caught his father’s arm, steering him back to the completely ignored mortals. A strange smile came upon Thranduil’s face, at once patronizing and indulgent. But it was aimed at his son, not the fellowship.
“Of course, Legolas. Show me what interesting creatures you have brought home this time.”
Only the absolute mortification on Legolas’ face stopped the rest of the Fellowship from protesting that insult.
“These are the four hobbits, Frodo son of Drogo and nephew to Bilbo, who I am sure you remember. And Samwise Gamgee, his…gardener. Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, Merry and Pippin. Heirs to their own lands in the Shire.”
“Well they are adorable, absolutely charming.” The king smiled as the hobbits bowed. “And very well trained I see. Should we tell the kitchen to prepare warm milk? I think we still have some bottles left. ”
Legolas looked like he might just sink through the floor and die. The hobbits all exchanged stunned glances.
“Father, no. They are adults. And this is Boromir of Gondor…..” to everyone’s utter confusion, Thranduil stepped forward and walked around the man, looking him up and down as if he’d been a horse in the market. Only Legolas frantic and pleading gesturing made the Man hold his tongue.
“A strong specimen, and of such good breeding.” Again, Thranduil patted his son’s shoulder and smiled the indulging smile of a parent putting up with a child’s whim. “But you know how Men are, very excitable and prone to eat all kinds of trash. Don’t get too attached, you know they don’t live very long.”
Something inside of Legolas seemed to have given up and died by now, for he just waved his hand and said.
“Aragorn, son of Arathorn.”
Thranduil stared at the Man as if the name stirred a memory and the fellowship collectively held their breath.
In what could almost be called a theater whispering, Thranduil said.
“Isn’t he a bit old to try and teach new tricks? Also it looks like he would be prone to bite.”
“Ada!” Legolas wailed distraught even as Boromir tried to hide his bark of laughter in a pretend cough and Aragorn turned bright red.
“And these, you must be careful of those.” Thranduil waved a hand at Gimli who looked torn between wanting to attack at the slightest provocation aimed his way and trying not to laugh. “They escape all the time, gets into fight, die in the most ridiculous ways, you never can tell if they want to be inside a room or outside it because no matter where they are they will make an unholy noise….”
“Ada. Please!” Legolas managed through gritted teeth.
“Very well, they can stay” Thranduil sighed, waving a hand through the air. “They are your responsibility though. And I hope they are all housebroken, we’re not having another incident like with the badger family again. “
“Yes, father.” Legolas sighed.
“What was all that?” Pippin was the first to answer once they had retreated to Legolas’ rooms. The elf all but fell onto a chair, burying his face in his hands.
“I am so sorry.” He managed between fingers. “I told you my father….this is why we try to keep him away from mortals.”
“Did he think we were your….pets?” Frodo stared.
Legolas nodded.
“I had a habit of bringing animals home when I was a child. All kinds of animals; deer, squirrels…..snakes even. I used to nurse them back to health, play with them and release them back once they were healed. Father indulged me. I suppose he thinks he still does.”
Absolute quiet fell over the room, until Gimli took his pipe out of his mouth and took a deep breath. Every eye in the room was suddenly on the dwarf.
“That,” he rumbled. “Is *adorable*.”
Legolas looked up and stared at him, and then at the rest of the quietly chuckling fellowship.
“He sees you as some kind of cat!” The elf prince pointed out, as if his father’s words had somehow been hard to understand. “And...and hunting dogs!” He stabbed a finger at the Men. “Squirrels, probably.” he signed wearily at the hobbits.
“Don’t worry, I know all about difficult fathers,” Boromir grinned. “Wait until you meet mine! I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t put himself on fire out of pure spite one day.”
“Aye, mine is so cheap he all but cries when he need to takes a sh….when he goes to the lavatory.” Gimli pointed out.
“Try to get mine to talk about anything but potatoes, I dare you.” Sam muttered.
“Mine had the disrespectful habit of drowning,” Frodo shrugged. “That’s what the Sackville Bagginses call it. ‘A disrespectful habit.’ As if he did it more than once.”
“You are all….” Legolas looked at them, one by one. Slowly his mortification died off, replaced by gratitude. “Thank you.”
A knock on the door interrupted them and servants filed in carrying trays of food that smelled delicious. The Fellowship gathered around the ladled table - and stopped.
There were four plates piled high with nuts, acorns and berries, two with large bones that still had plenty of meat around them, one with several uncooked fishes.
The fellowship stared.
Legolas sighed and reached for the wine pitcher, pouring himself a large glass.
“My friends.” he drained the glass. “Welcome to Mirkwood.”