The Sylvanus

by Oliver McBride

  "What do you mean?" he asked with a smile and a scowl - "of course they are alive…"

  "There is blue and purple in them - have you not noticed?"

  The scowl deepened and Glorfindel thought he saw a hint of fear. No, he obviously had not noticed, and he resolved to tell Elrond of it later.

  "You are tired," he said.

  "Thanks to you, yes. I have much to prove to you if you are to take me as your apprentice," he said and Glorfindel watched him as he sat up slowly with a wince.

  "Don't push it too far, Legolas. You have been injured recently, and Elrond would skin me if he knew how much you are training."

  "You won't tell him?" asked Legolas worriedly.

  "No," smiled Glorfindel. I won't tell him but heed me, child - don't get cocky.

  Legolas snorted at that and then crossed his legs before him.

  "Glorfindel - I hope you don't mind, but there is a question I would ask you."

  "Go on, I am listening," he said, watching his student as he settled himself and organised his thoughts.

  "I have known Idhrenohtar and Ram en Ondo since I have memory of the world - brothers in every way except blood. We grew together, played together, trained together - until now, seven hundred years later - we find ourselves here, on such an extraordinary adventure. As you can imagine we know each other well - trust each other like we never will another."

  "But?" asked Glorfindel, wondering where Legolas' thoughts were wandering.

  "Since my - heritage - became known upon the road here, something has changed. It worries me that they see me differently now, that knowing who my father is will change what we have, distance me from them."

  "Why? Why do you think that may happen?"

  "There is something different. For instance today, when Idhrenohtar told me he is training for the archery grade. I told him I was proud of him and he looked at me…" he trailed off, as if searching for a word.

  "How?"

  "… he was shy. Glorfindel, Idhreno has never been shy with me…" he said worriedly.

  Glorfindel smiled sadly before turning his head to the sky and wondering how to explain to Legolas what he understood so clearly from the outside.

  "Your question is easy to answer, Legolas."

  He felt the child's eyes on him, felt his surprise that Glorfindel should say such a thing about something that had obviously worried him for some time.

  "You are becoming a leader, Legolas. 'Tis all it is…" Eventually, he turned to face the Silvan, his eyes frank and confident.

  "Will I lose them, do you think?" asked Legolas softly.

  "No - you will not lose them, but what you share will change, Legolas."

  "But what have I done, Glorfindel. What have I done differently to what I have always done?"

  "The question is not what you have done, but what has changed. Legolas, you are the son of their king, however illegitimate you may be. That changes things - you cannot expect life to go on as it was, knowing what you all know."

  Legolas was silent for a moment, before he spoke once more.

  "I have always wanted to excel on my own strengths. Wanted to prove that you didn't have to be a Sindar to be a leader in the Greenwood - did not have to rely on heritage to get what you wanted. Yet see now, the paradox - " he said miserably.

  "'Tis enough that you are not using that for your own gain, or that others do so. You are doing this on your own, Legolas, because you have the necessary skill and more - but you cannot expect others to ignore the blood that runs through your veins."

  "No - but that is a double edged weapon, is it not? The Company has taken positively to my heritage, but what of the Greenwood. The very thought of returning and facing it all…"

  "… is not enough to break you, Legolas," Glorfindel said with a smile. "There will be those that repudiate you, that will use your existence for political gain - and I do not only refer to the Sindar, Legolas. The Silvan people will be just as ruthless in this - mark my words."

  Legolas looked at Glorfindel, wondering whether he was right. Would his own people use him? It seemed unlikely to him now, but he trusted Glorfindel, respected him on an instinctive level - he was the nearest thing to a father he had ever had, and the thought brought unexpected tears to his eyes.

  Turning away, he took a steadying breath, damning his volatile emotions.

  "Legolas," said Glorfiindel softly, "do not be ashamed of your emotions. Tell me what it is that affects you so…"

  Legolas turned to meet Glorfindel's kind eyes and wondered, wondered if he could, just for once, indulge himself and give voice to his heart. With an apprehensive glance at the trees around him, he spoke.

  "I was just thinking," he began somewhat unsteadily. "I was thinking that you are the closest thing…" he could not continue and his voice broke off - he could not say it.

  Glorfindel's own eyes filled and he smiled softly.

  "You have been bereft for so long, Legolas. You have been strong, for others, to defend yourself against the mockery of others but you are only an elf, child. I am honoured," he paused for a moment, "that you should trust me so. If I had a child, if I could choose - it would be you," he trailed off as the onslaught of emotion silenced him and both elves sat observing each other in wonder now.

  Yet no more words were spoken, for something special had happened to Glorfindel and Legolas in the gardens that morning; a bond had been formed that would never again be broken.

  Rinion sat at the dinner table, to the right of his father and in front of Councillor Aradan, who was currently speaking of the upcoming summit with enthusiasm.

  "They have come by the hundreds, Thranduil. All the village leaders with their foresters and herders, the summons has been a great success," he proclaimed as he ate.

  "I bet uncle Bandorion is overjoyed," drawled Rinion sarcastically as he sipped on his wine.

  Thranduil glanced at his mercurial son for a moment, wishing he would not be so unnecessarily cutting.

  "And would you agree with him?" asked Thranduil flatly.

  Now it was Rinion to return the sideways glance at his father, and Aradan rather thought there was a war of wills going on here.

  "That would depend," said the crown prince. There will be singing, drums and rivers of alcohol - if one is looking for a party, I have no qualms," he said.

  "And if one is looking for political consensus - what then?" asked Thranduil.

  "We have not seen your agenda yet, my King. I can hardly give council on an empty parchment."

  "I am not asking for council, Rinion, but your opinion in general, not on specific points."

  "Then suffice it to say I have no opinion, until you disclose what it is we are to talk about."

  "Suffice it?" he asked in silent reprimand, before turning to his friend and councillor. "And you, Aradan?" asked the king.

  Aradan could see the king's frustration, even if Rinion probably could not. The Crown Prince was busy trying to antagonise his father, as was customary. The only thing that seemed to have changed, was that he had not been quite as vehement as he would have been but days before.

  "They have gone to great lengths to travel here, their numbers are indicative of that. They seem hopeful that something will change, and in that, they will be receptive, I believe. However," he paused with a wry smile, "I cannot help but agree with Prince Rinion in that it would be passing helpful to have an agenda, my king," he said with a hopeful smile.

  "And you will have it. There are three days before the summit begins. We will meet tomorrow to discuss it - but this much I will say," he said, looking at both prince and then councillor. The appearance of my youngest son will be made known."

  Silence prevailed, as Rinion and Aradan froze. The councillor had deduced as much, of course, but Rinion was shocked.

  "You cannot be serious. Publicly announce you have a bastard son? Recognise that you were unfaithful to your queen?" he asked, his incredulous face searching that of his father.

  "Y
ou think they do not already know, Rinion?"

  "One thing is knowing, and quite another to rec…."

  "Stop, and think before you shoot your mouth off, Prince. If they know, and they know I know, the result of not recognising his existence is to lose credibility, lose their trust. This boy's face, from what I have been told, is almost identical to that of your grandfather - he will not go unnoticed, Rinion, however much you wish to sweep him under the table and pretend it is simply coincidence!"

  Rinion stared wide-eyed at his father, before turning back to his meal in annoyance. Aradan watched him carefully, his shrewd eyes searching the boy's feelings. He did not believe half the things he said, concluded the councillor. His entire dialogue was centred around one thing. Hurting his father, as Thranduil had hurt him. It was infantile and yet so ingrained in his behaviour he was surely finding it hard to change.

  There was a difference though, for whereas before, Rinion would have continued to argue his point with a less than elegant vocabulary, now, he was biting his tongue and checking his words. It was a start, indeed he would have to council Thranduil to have patience with him, for Rinion deserved that much.

  "Does the boy have a name then?" asked Rinion with a slightly stiff upper lip, as if he cared not, but his subterfuge was not skilful enough to hide the truth from Aradan.

  "Legolas," said Thranduil simply.

  "Well, you don't get more Silvan than that," he scoffed.

  "You do not approve, of course," said Thranduil with a light smile.

  "I do not - but that is of no consequence," he answered, before taking a long draught of his wine.

  "Are you going to recognise him - as your son? As a prince of the realm?" asked Rinion.

  "I cannot name him Prince, but this you already know. He was not born to the queen, it is forbidden."

  Rinion nodded in satisfaction as he continued to eat.

  "I can acknowledge him, of course, indeed I must as we have already discussed. But this is secondary, of course. Yet know this, Rinion. A time will come when you will meet Legolas, and I expect you to comport yourself as befitting a Crown Prince." said Thranduil, his eyes lingering on his son.

  "I cannot foresee that, Father. I cannot foresee how I will feel when I see him. One thing I can say, and that is I will not be welcoming him as a long lost brother - I am sure you can appreciate this," he said somewhat arrogantly.

  "So long as you do not disgrace yourself, Rinion. That is all I require of you."

  Aradan saw the spark of hurt in Rinion's eyes at the king's words. He did care, he did want the love and attention from his father that had been denied him since the queen had left.

  "Aradan…" said the king, snapping the councillor out of his own musings.

  "Apologies, my King. What…"

  "I asked who the representatives are, of all the Silvan and Avarin leaders, who has been chosen as spokesperson?"

  "Ah, Erthoron of Broadtree and Lorthil of Silver Vale for the Silvans, and Barhon for the Avari," he said.

  "Do you know them, Rinion?" asked the king.

  "No, I have not visited those villages. They are towards the South, Celegon would not condone me visiting those places."

  "I see," said Thranduil, knowing the Commander would not wish to place the Crown Prince too near the darkening forests of the South.

  "Rinion," said the king, almost as an afterthought. Turning his face to his son, he studied it for a moment, before continuing.

  "Did you mean it, what you said the other day…"

  "What did I say," asked the prince with a scowl.

  The king paused for a moment, wondering if he should continue, but the puzzled look on his son's face spurred him on.

  "You said you loved me once…"

  Rinion was taken aback but Aradan could not say if it was because he had not expected his father to mention that, or that the words seemed too harsh to have come from his own lips.

  "I did mean it," he said carefully, "but that does not mean I cannot love you once more. Father," he said, turning fully now to look squarely at the king. "I cannot change centuries of bitterness. I was old enough to see the damage you did to my mother, to my younger brother and sister. They were not entirely aware but I was. I tried to minimise it, explain it away when my own heart was breaking and I hated you for that," he said harshly. Now that I know some of the details, that my grandfather started all this by prohibiting your love for the Silvan woman, now that I know the extent of your love for her and my own mother's prior knowledge of it. My rational mind can understand these things, but the damage was done and I acted in consequence."

  "And can you change that? With time, can you come to love me once more?" asked the king softly.

  Rinion's eyes filled with tears but the prince would not allow them to fall.

  "I never stopped loving you - that is why it hurt so much…" he whispered furiously, before standing abruptly, and leaving.

  Thranduil and Aradan were left sitting in stunned silence, until Thranduil smiled and turned to Aradan.

  "Time - time and a loving father will heal him, Aradan," he said happily, and Aradan smiled back, for while he agreed essentially with what Thranduil said, he knew that Rinion would still have his outbursts, bouts of cutting words uttered to hurt. This was not the end of the tunnel, and he just hoped that his friend knew that too.

  "Get up!" thundered Glorfindel as Lindohtar struggled for breath on the ground. Heaving a wheezing breath he stood shakily and nodded at the commander.

  "Get him, floor him!" he shouted, goading the warrior on. Lindohtar steeled himself and ran head first into the Wall of Stone, crashing into it with a mighty hrumph. But still, the massive elf did not stumble, indeed it was Lindohtar who nearly fell to his backside. At the last moment, he remembered a move, and shot his foot out to catch Ram en Ondo's heel, hooking it and sending him down into a cloud of dry dirt with a mighty crash.

  The rest of the warriors winced in sympathy, watching as Glorfindel towered over them both.

  "Good enough," was all he said before turning to Legolas.

  "UP!" he motioned, before turning to Melven and beckoning to him. The Company shared worried glances at each other, while the Noldorin warriors smirked evilly.

  "Your objective is to down your opponent," he said, turning to face Melven. "No more…" he said in silent warning.

  With a nod, both warriors crouched low and began to circle. Melven lurched forward, reaching for Legolas' arm but the Silvan dodged his move, spinning once and latching on to Melven from behind, throwing him to the floor.

  "Get up!" shouted Glorfiindel to the fuming Noldo, who rose to his feet and then swivelled his shoulders.

  Charging forwards, Legolas side-stepped, watching as Melven rolled forwards and crashed head first into the ground.

  "Ooohh!" shouted the Silvans in sympathy, while the Noldor shared amused glances.

  "Get up!" growled Glorfindel angrily for the second time.

  Again, the dark haired warrior rose and breathed deeply, before deciding his next move. Approaching Legolas more slowly now, he feigned to one side and then landed a blow to Legolas' lower chest, driving the breath from him.

  Stunned silence followed, but before Glorfindel could reprimand the warrior, Legolas caught Melven in a shoulder clamp and before anyone could register it, he flipped the warrior over his shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground flat on his back, only this time Legolas knelt over him, his fierce face staring down at Melven angrily.

  "That hurt…" was all he said, before rising and moving away with a brief glance at Glorfindel.

  "Get up!" said Glorfiindel for the third time, but he said no more of the underhand tactics Melven had used, for there really was no need. Glorfindel had seen enough, and Legolas had made his point clearly enough. Melven was not a bad warrior; it was his mindset that needed changing.

  "Are you alright?" smirked Elladan as he watched Legolas rub his chest.

  "Yes," he said hoarsely, garnering
a chuckle from The Company and Elladan as he sat with a stifled groan.

  After their hand-to-hand session, they moved on to archery and blades, knowing that tomorrow they would choose their two weapons of choice and their training would start anew, only this time it would be less generic, more specific, and spirits were high.

  Training now over, the warriors strode towards the barracks amidst light-hearted banter for the most part. Melven walked alone, silent and brooding, and Legolas could not help but wonder what it was that had turned the elf so sour, so against him, for they had not exchanged a single word. Perhaps it was a Silvan thing, that he thought them rural and wild, but then again, why did he seem to hate Legolas specifically? He disapproved of bastards, perhaps - he would not be the first elf he had met to hate him for that alone, but no. Legolas was not convinced of the strange Noldo's motives, and wondered if, perhaps, he could get close enough to him to find out.

  "Legolas," called Glorfindel.

  "Aye, Sir?"

  "Your presence is required after the evening meal."

  "Of course, Sir," he said with a nod. This of course, meant that he would miss their excursion to the hot springs with Elladan. Well, he scowled as he rubbed his chest again, it was just as well, for truth be told he was too tired. He just hoped he would not disgrace himself and nod off in the company of lords and princes.

  After the evening meal, Legolas made his way to the main house, smiling as he remembered the light-hearted banter they had struck up at the dinner table at the barracks. Even the Noldor had been more talkative, something Legolas attributed to the fact that Elladan was clearly mixing with the Silvans, indeed no sooner had they finished, and Elrond's son guided them to the promised hot springs, towels and soaps in hand as they chatted and joked and waved to their friend.

  Would it ever be the same for him? He wondered… would he still be simply part of that life-long team of friends, equal in all things? No, he realised, no it would never be the same, he said to himself. From the moment he had resolved to become a captain, he had forsaken a part of it, doomed it to certain change. All he could do was to clutch to the hope that it would be a good thing, that he would not lose their friendship, not lose his brothers.