“There you are, Legolas! We’ve
been looking
everywhere for
you!” a tiny elf, only a little over half Legolas’ size called out,
nimbly
vaulting the waist high-fence around the gardens and landing near where
the
prince knelt on the grass beside a huge flowerbed. Legolas’ hands
were earthy
and a pile of uprooted weeds was quickly growing next to him.
"What
are you doing?” a second elf, this one a few hairs taller than Legolas,
followed after, raising his eyebrows when he saw his friend’s somewhat
grubby
appearance.
Legolas
looked up from his work, rocking back on his heels. Pushing stray
locks of
hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand he left a dirty smudge
across
his forehead. “What’s it look like Raniean? I’m weeding the
flower bed.”
Legolas looked out at the mammoth patch of brightly colored flora and
ugly,
nettled creepers. “The very large flower bed,” he amended
slightly, blowing
his wayward hair out of his face once more in a rueful sigh.
“Why?”
Raniean blinked several times.
Trelan
elbowed Raniean in the ribs. Although the shorter elf’s unusually
diminished
stature made him look younger, much to his eternal chagrin, he was in
fact the
same age as Raniean and Legolas and had twice as much sauce as either
of them.
“Because
he must have got in trouble for something, you nift,” the shorter elf
hissed at
his friend in a not-so-quiet whisper.
Legolas
rolled his eyes. “Yes, I did, and if you’re wondering, no, I
don’t want to
talk about it.”
“That’s
fine ‘cause we don’t want to hear about it,” Trelan said cheerily,
earning him
a scowl from both Legolas and Raniean.
“Hey,
look who’s on garden duty!” another voice interrupted the
friends. Legolas
sighed as he looked up and saw four other young elves leaning against
the fence
and looking over at them. A ripple of laughter ran lightly
through the small
group of newcomers. “What’d you do this time, Legolas? Don’t
tell me you
smarted off at Lord Dridian again!”
“None
of your business, Sarcayul,” Raniean rolled his eyes. “I don’t
think anyone
here was talking to you. Or wants to.”
“Yeah,
why don’t you move along?” Trelan added.
“Why?”
the older elfling lounged against the fence post, smiling
tauntingly. “I think
we’d rather stay here and watch. Not everyday you get to see how
a prince
pulls weeds. Hey I think you missed a few over here!”
“Legolas,
you’ve um... you’ve got something on your face,” Sarcayul’s younger
brother,
Legolas’ sometimes-friend Sarcaulien, shot his older sibling a
long-suffering
look before rubbing his forehead demonstratively.
Legolas
wiped his forehead quickly.
“Don’t
you think you’re a little old to be playing in the dirt?” Sarcayul put
in
again, ignoring his brother’s glare. “No, wait, if you plant
shrimpy do you
think he’ll grow?” the older elf indicated that he meant Trelan.
“I
think you should leave,” Legolas felt his color rising again, but he
spoke
quietly, refusing to let the other elven boys get a rise out of
him. “Now.”
“Why
you-” Trelan spluttered at the insult and Raniean had to quickly wrap
an arm
around his friend’s waist to hold him back from charging at the bigger
boys on
the other side of the fence.
“Aw,
leave the little guy alone,” Amon, another one of Sarcayul’s friends
mocked
with an unkind smile. “At least his father doesn’t seem to think
he’d make a
better gardener than a prince,” he said, shooting a sardonic glance at
Legolas. “Your father’s made a mess of this kingdom anyway, my
father says, so
you might as well learn another profession while you can.”
Legolas
jumped to his feet. They could rag on him, but the instant they
started
touching his family they had crossed the line. “You take that
back!”
“Make
me!” Amon scowled. “Unless you’re as much of a weakling as your
father is.”
“Amon,
shut up!” Sarcaulien hissed at the older elf. He and his brother
may have been
bullies at times, but they were loyal to the royal house, and that was
treason
Amon was talking.
Legolas
was across the fence faster than it took to blink and tackled Amon,
knocking
him over. The two young elves rolled over a couple times,
tussling in the dust.
Raniean
and Trelan followed him over and the whole situation would have
degraded very
quickly except that another one of the young elves in Sarcayul’s party
gave a
quick cry of warning. Morifwen did not like conflict and had held
back from
the altercation. Since he was on the fringes, he heard the
approaching
footsteps first.
“Somebody’s
coming! Break it up, somebody’s coming!” he called quickly,
tugging Sarcayul
and Sarcaulien back away from the fight.
Everyone
else stopped too at the warning, although Amon used the opportunity of
the
distraction to strike Legolas in the mouth with the flat of his hand
before
pulling away and taking flight after his friends. None of them
wanted to get
in trouble for fighting, especially with the prince.
Raniean
and Trelan helped hurry Legolas back to the side of the fence they were
supposed to be on and everything looked nearly normal when Ravir
rounded the
corner to check on Legolas’ progress.
The
prince hastily wiped his bleeding lip with the back of his hand and
started
pulling weeds fastidiously.
Ravir
thought his young charged looked a trifle too fastidious and Raniean
and Trelan
were acting a little too innocent, but he just raised his eyebrow at
the
prince’s friends. “Don’t be bothering his highness now you two,
and don’t step
on the geraniums on the way out,” was all he said before going on about
his
duties.
Raniean
and Trelan looked at each other and burst out laughing after the
gardener had
left. “And don’t step on the geraniums on the way out!” Trelan
mimicked.
Legolas
didn’t laugh. He was still upset over what Amon had said.
“Well
we’d better go I guess,” Raniean said after a moment. “But the reason
we were
looking for you was to find out what time you wanted to get to the
tournament
grounds tomorrow. We should get there early if we want a good
spot.”
Legolas
looked down at his hands, twisting a bent weed between his
fingers. “I can’t
go to the tournament tomorrow, Ran.”
“What?”
the other boy was shocked. “But Legolas, we’ve been waiting for
this
competition forever! It’s the archery finals of the season!
Cúrorth and Galdil
are going to be facing off for the championship!”
Legolas
did not look up, but the weed in his hands snapped in two. “I
know! I know.
But I don’t have a choice, Ran. I have to help Galion in the
cellars
tomorrow.” The young elf’s disappointment was keen. He had
indeed been
waiting for this event all year; he tried not to let his friends see
how he
felt, but it was a futile attempt.
Raniean
and Trelan looked at each other. They felt badly for
Legolas. They knew that
he had wanted to go probably more than either of them did.
Archery was the
young prince’s favorite passion.
“I’m
sorry... is there anything we can do?” Trelan asked quietly.
Legolas
attempted to smile and shrug it off. “No, don’t worry, I’ll be
fine. You two
will just have to tell me everything that happens, and then it’ll be
like I was
there, all right?”
The
other two elven boys were not convinced, but took their leave shortly
thereafter, not wishing to get the prince into anymore trouble by hanging
around.
After
they were gone, Legolas felt the tears of disappointment welling in his
eyes,
but refused to let them fall. It was childish. What did it
matter anyway? He
dug back into his task quickly to keep himself busy so he didn’t feel
the ache
of the growing loneliness inside him.
Dutifully,
Legolas made his way to the cellars after lunch the next day.
Usually he would
have had lessons still after lunch, but it was a festival day, so
lessons were
cut short. Legolas was half tempted to take the fact that it was
not after
supper and only after lunch to mean that he did not have to go to work
yet and
could catch the beginning of the tournament... but he knew that his
father had
meant that he was not to leave the palace until his punishment was over
and the
very last thing Legolas wanted to do was get in trouble again and
further
disappoint his father, or garner more of Doriflen’s wrath. He
still didn’t
have an answer for his Uncle about yesterday and the prince knew that
sooner or
later today he was going to need one. It made his palms clammy
just thinking
about it.
Galion
regarded the downcast young prince with kind-hearted pity. He
knew what the
boy was missing. The butler put a gentle hand on the younger
elf’s shoulder as
he showed Legolas what needed doing.
Legolas
was having a bit of difficulty rolling one of the heavier barrels up
the ramp
into the upraised storage area on the far wall, when another set of
hands
joined him; hands that were too small to be Galion’s.
“Let
me help you with that.”
Legolas
started and nearly dropped the barrel.
Raniean
caught it and kept it from rolling backward until Legolas got his
shoulder back
against it again.
“Raniean?
Trelan?” Legolas looked quickly between his two friends. “What
are you doing
here? The tournament grounds must be packed by this time, you’ll
never find a
spot!”
Trelan
shrugged with an impish grin, adding another hand to the precariously
balanced
tub. “It doesn’t matter, I can never see no matter where we
stand.”
“Yeah,”
Raniean nodded. “We decided it wasn’t worth contending with the
crowds.
Trelan always gets stepped on and then smarts off at whoever did it,
and I have
to save him...”
“HEY!”
the small elf elbowed his friend sharply. “Do not!”
“Do
too! Raniean chuckled and shoved his friend away. “But
anyway, we decided to
skip all that; what’s one more tournament anyway? We thought
maybe you could
use some help down here.”
Legolas
blinked, totally stunned. “Y-you can’t do that, I know how much
you two have
been looking forward to this! Go on, go, I don’t need you to feel
sorry for
me.”
“Legolas,”
Raniean caught his friend’s eyes and smiled. “Don’t you
understand? We don’t
feel sorry for you. We’d just rather be with you than at any dumb
old
festival, all right?”
Legolas
didn’t know what to say. He smiled gratefully at his friends, his
eyes saying
what he couldn’t put into words.
“Now
can we get this barrel up the ramp before it rolls us over?” Trelan put
in as
the tub shifted again.
The
friends laughed and rolled the barrel the rest of the way up.
“Before
it rolls you over you mean!” Raniean teased.
The
three young elves moved the barrels around with quick, light hands and
nimble
reflexes, making games out of the labor and racing the barrels down the
ramp to
see who could get theirs through the trapdoor and into the water
first.
Galion
watched the barrels bump and crash together much more roughly than he
would
ever have let his normal helpers get away with. But the three
boys were
enjoying themselves while they worked and it was all right with
him. He
thought well of the prince’s young friends for the sacrifice they had
made for
friendship.
Evening
was drawing near when the butler approached his young charges.
“Well now, with
all three of you working, things have gotten finished up much quicker
than
expected, so there’s nothing left to do here. However, I do have to
go check how
the wine supply at the tournament is holding out... I don’t suppose I
could get
you boys to come help me...” his eyes twinkled.
“Sure!”
Raniean and Trelan agreed quickly, but Legolas hesitated.
“Now,”
Galion looked at the young prince, sensing his hesitation. “Your
father said
you were supposed to help me, right? Well I need your help out
there. You’re
under my charge and it’s my responsibility, your highness; you won’t be
doing
anything wrong.”
Legolas
smiled brightly. “Very well then!”
Checking
and refilling the large, public wine flagons took less than twenty
minutes,
after which Galion took his young charges up to the roof of the stone
alcove
that housed the festival’s free wine and food. From the roof, the
four of them
had perhaps the best view of the entire tournament grounds. The
match had just
about reached its climax and the three young elves watched with rapt
attention
as the two best bowmen in Mirkwood faced off against one another in a
series of
breathtaking challenges as inventive and clever as they were difficult.
Galion
brought the boys up some of the huge, sticky pastries that were being
given out
down below and the young elves shared the goodies amongst themselves as
they
watched.
“Did
you SEE that?!” Trelan gasped animatedly, gesturing excitedly with
sticky
fingers.
Raniean
shook his head in awe at the skill they were watching, ripping off
another
piece of the pastry without ever taking his eyes off the field.
“Never seen
anything like it! How in the world did he get it to go there?!”
Legolas
watched, entranced. “It was the way he twisted his wrist, right
before he let
the arrow go,” he murmured, keen eyes straining to capture every
detail, every
move.
“You
would know,” Raniean nodded, smiling. Legolas was the resident
archery expert
in their little group.
“Someday
we’re going to see you out there, right, Legolas?” Trelan said with full
confidence.
Legolas
laughed lightly, it was in fact a dream of his. “Maybe someday.”
“Ohh,
oh, watch,” Raniean tugged on Legolas’ sleeve and pointed.
“They’re going to
do that relay shot we’ve been hearing so much about. I’ve never
seen it done,
I was hoping they would do it this year.”
It was an incredibly complicated shot, which
only the best
archers attempted with any success. Two elves stood side by side,
one holding
a bow and the other with several long, multi-colored trailing ribbons
tied
around a ring. A third stood several stone throws distant with
another bow and
an arrow.
“Lagor
revio, thenid revio! Hado! Fly true, fly
swift! Fire!” the archer standing
next to the elf holding the ribbons called out, signaling his readiness
to
begin.
The
lone archer across from the pair shot his arrow at the unprotected
heart of the
other elf holding the bow.
The
crowd held its breath.
Almost
quicker than sight the second archer pivoted on his heel and caught the
arrow
in his hand, stopping it in mid-flight just before it reached his
chest. The
third elf slipped the ribbon-ring around the shaft of the arrow even as
the elf
who had caught the arrow put the projectile to the string of his own
bow and
sent it back to the original archer.
The
whole thing had taken less that a heartbeat to transpire.
With
the same display of fluid grace, the second archer caught the arrow and
sent it
back, keeping the ends of the yellow ribbons trapped in his
fingers. The arrow
was sent back and forth in this manner several times in a kind of
faster-than-sight dance, with the archers twisting and catching the
different
colored ribbons as they went. Less than a minute later, the two
archers
stopped, stretching tight the colorful strands that now hung between
them. The
crowd roared with applause when they showed that they had expertly
braided the
ribbons into an intricate pattern of delicate knots with the colors
arranged to
mimic the rainbow.
Legolas,
Trelan and Raniean jumped to their feet on the roof, cheering
loudly. They had
never seen anything like that and it was incredible.
“We
are going to learn to do that!” Legolas said excitedly. “I know
Cúrorth will
show us how it’s done if we ask him.”
Raniean
and Trelan nodded in agreement as they settled back down to watch the
rest of
the match.
Night
had fallen some time ago as the tournament grounds emptied
slowly. Legolas
said goodnight to his friends, but became separated from Galion in the
crowds.
So it was that he was alone as he walked towards the darkened
palace.
The
young prince jerked and started when a hand clamped down on his
shoulder from
behind. Spun sharply around, Legolas found himself staring up at
his uncle’s
angry face. If he had been startled before, that quickly
solidified into pure
terror now, but he did not fight as Doriflen dragged him off the
path.
“I
waited for you all day, boy. We need to have a talk,” Doriflen
hissed
threateningly.
Legolas
felt his mouth go dry as he stumbled off after the older elf.
This was going
to be bad.
“Uh
oh,” Raniean stooped, picking up a small brooch in the shape of a
circle of
silver leaves from where it was being trodden upon on the ground.
“Legolas
must have lost this. Legolas! Hey! Legolas!” but his
friend was already lost
in the crowd.
Raniean
shrugged, tucking the brooch into his breast pocket. “Trelan,
Nana said we’re
having dinner at your house tonight, so my parents are probably already
there.
When you see them will you please tell them I’ll be along in about
twenty
minutes? I’m going to return this to Legolas really quick.
You know how his
father is about him losing things.”
Trelan nodded. The last thing they wanted
was for their
friend to get in any more trouble. “All right, but hurry or I
can’t guarantee
that my cousins will leave you any supper!”
Raniean laughed as he jogged away into the
darkness.
“I’ll try.”
The
young elf slipped into the palace quietly. It was easy enough for
him to do
since the gates had not yet been closed for the night and all the
guards were
used to seeing the young prince’s friends come and go as they
pleased.
Legolas
was no longer with Galion, so Raniean asked one of the servants, who
thought
that maybe they had seen the prince with his uncle and the young elf
should
look there.
Raniean
made his way to Doriflen’s wing of the palace. No one answered
his ultra soft
knock so instead he pushed open the large doors that let into the Vice
Regent’s
lavish set of rooms and looked around. There was no one in the
main chamber
and Raniean hesitated to search any further. He did not
particularly like
Legolas’ uncle and he supposed he could just leave the prince’s brooch
in his
room for him. The young elf was about to leave when muffled
sounds from the
bedchambers down the passage made him freeze and edge closer.
“How
many times,” whack “do I have to impress this upon you,” whack
“before you
learn?!” whack “You avoid me and shirk your duties and I will,” WHACK “be
more than glad,” WHACK “to show you the consequences!”
Doriflen’s low, angry
voice was punctuated by a sharp, sickening crack of leather whistling
through
the air and striking something soft. But that wasn’t what made
the young elf’s
blood run cold. It was the muffled, miserable, choking sobs of
pain that
accompanied the sound.
“I-I’m
s-sorry... it won’t happen again, I swear it won’t! Stop, please
stop, I’m
sorry...” Legolas’ voice broke as the pain became too much for him
again. A
muffled scream earned him a sharp clout across the back of his
skull. His head
was spinning and blackness tinged the young prince’s vision. His
body was
strong, but it was slowly wearing out from Doriflen’s repeated and
unrestrained
abuse.
Raniean
had never heard his friend beg before and his blood boiled.
Peering around the
corner the young elf saw a scene so unreal he would only have believed
it
possible of a nightmare. Legolas was on his knees on the floor;
his wrists
bound tightly to one of the foot posts of the bed in the middle of the
room.
The prince’s shirt was on the floor next to him and his slim shoulders
were
marred darkly with bleeding welts. Doriflen stood over his
nephew, beating the
boy without compunction.
Horror
rose like bile in Raniean’s throat as Legolas slumped limply against
the
bedpost, unconsciousness claiming him. “Legolas!” he gasped his
friend’s
name.
Doriflen’s
head jerked up and his burning gaze landed on the intruder.
Raniean
reeled back a pace under that menacing glare, but he was so consumed by
the
terror of the sight in front of him he did not hear the footsteps
behind him
until a hand pressed firmly over his mouth and a strong arm wrapped
around his
chest. The youth struggled in shock and surprise, but a quick,
sharp blow to
the base of his skull put a stop to that and Raniean slumped forward,
also unconscious.
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