The Sylvanus

by Oliver McBride

  Hours later, Legolas made one final swipe of the stone over the magnificent blade he held reverently in his aching hand, and then lay it down next to the others. His nose tickled and he reached up to scratch it, only to find it bled.

  He sniffled and then wiped it away, just as the captains left the hall and surrounded him once more, their eyes wide at the sight before them, for there, under the light of a waxing moon, lay their blades, presented in a semi-circle, the accompanying knives and daggers beside their larger brothers. They had been placed according to age and origin and their disbelieving eyes spotted their own weapons and took them up to inspect the impeccable work.

  Tirion smiled and then startled, for he could have sworn that Dorhinen's lips had twitched.

  "Get up."

  Legolas stood once more, his uniform dishevelled and his braids sticking out on one side. One eye was shadowed and the corner of his mouth was split. A trickle of blood ran from his nose which was slightly swollen and there was a red blotch on his temple.

  "What is it you want?" asked Thoron as he stepped forward.

  "I want to be a captain."

  "Why?"

  "To serve the forest and her people."

  "And those that do not live in the forest? Those of us that live here? The Sindar?" he said.

  "We all live in the forest, be it under the trees or around them - there is no difference."

  "You would serve the Sindar then? as fervently as you would the Silvan people?"

  "There is no difference."

  "Of course there is a difference. We are different, you will it or not."

  "The colour of our hair or eyes, or the hue of our skin - what does that matter?" asked Legolas, knowing he was pushing his luck now.

  "But you, are Silvan! You make a point of it, don't you. You are ashamed of your Sindarin heritage - aren't you, admit it you half-breed bastard - you can't stand the Sindar people because they are your father's people, the elf that swept you aside without a thought, abandoned you to a life of shame and ridicule - that -is why you hate us, isn't it!" he shouted mercilessly, and Legolas flinched at his words. But he did not fall for it, for while that had been true, it no longer was.

  "I am not ashamed of my Sindarin heritage."

  "You lie!"

  "No. I do not lie. You would be right had you asked me that question a year ago. But it is no longer so, the name the Silvan has simply stuck because it is ironic - I do not look Silvan, it seems…"

  Someone snorted in mirth but was summarily silenced, and Thoron returned to the circle of captains.

  Another took his place and circled him, his arms clasped behind his back.

  "They say you single-handedly protected a caravan of wounded elves on your way to Imladris. Why single-handedly?" he asked curtly.

  "It was the only way. Four injured and impaired, three injured but unimpaired and the threat of wargs but hours away. Had they attacked we would all have been killed. By falling back I would indeed be alone but I would have a chance at distracting them."

  "With the smell of blood on the air, you would not have been able. You put your own life at risk and left the caravan with its only able-bodied elf to defend them."

  "No. I knew my chances of defending them were increased if I moved away from them and towards the enemy."

  "It doesn't make sense unless you explain why your chances were better - so tell us - why?"

  There was no way Legolas could answer this question without making reference to his abilities, but then he would have to discuss that, sooner or later. The question was, that if they were already attacking him, after he told them of his status as a Protege, they would all but tear him apart.

  "My chances were better because I was able to predict the enemy's movement."

  Silence ensued until Thoron spoke once more.

  "How - would you do that?"

  Legolas' eyes slipped to the onlooking captains of their own accord - hesitating visibly before he spoke.

  "I - have an ability."

  "Another one!" exclaimed Thoron - "What a star you are! Pray tell us what this new skill is!" he asked sarcastically and Legolas mentally cursed. This was the second time he had had to explain something so difficult, under the pressure of mockery.

  "I can communicate with the trees," he said simply, hoping this would be enough, indeed it had to be. Too much information on his status was not going to help him.

  "You are a listener?" asked Thoron.

  "Yes," said Legolas quietly. It was not a lie, just a gross understatement.

  "What? Speak up you fool, what did you say?!"

  "I said yes, I am a listener."

  He tried to steady himself, harden himself. Hs eyes strayed to the warriors still watching from the first floor, and then to the Inner Circle.

  "So you see, Silvan," spat Thoron. "You are not Sindarin for you have the magic of the Silvan people - you are loyal to them, not the Sindar."

  "I am loyal to my king," said Legolas, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice for he was tired, and they had gone over this so many times already.

  "So you say…" said Thoron. "Kneel, and do not move until you're ordered to," he instructed and with that, the captains disappeared once more.

  Inside, a heated argument had begun…

  "There were rumours, Thoron, that he was a listener. Dimaethor said this himself, and Tirion - you would know, you have ridden with him," said Dunorel.

  "If you would let me speak, I would shed some light on this, yes.

  "Go on," coaxed Huron.

  "I knew he was a listener, yes. He had various episodes while we served together. He was still unaware of his ability and it frightened him. Dimaethor was there too. He successfully warned us of enemy presence and he was not wrong. That he is a listener there can be do doubt, and a good one at that.

  "Why did you not tell us of this before, Tirion?" asked Huron.

  I arrived only the day before yesterday. Lainion perished and I had time only to prepare myself for today.

  Celegon nodded. "The same happened on our way to Imladris. He tried to warn us of a double ambush but Silor wasted precious time antagonising him, with the results you all already know of. I would also share with you something I myself witnessed in Elrond's study, as we took council together. There was a moment in which Legolas had a - somewhat strong emotional response - and I swear I saw a drooping plant move itself, until it stood upright. It was speculated even then that the boy had some sort of - ability - green magic, perhaps."

  "Then there is certainly enough evidence to at least give Legolas a chance, would you not say?" asked Tirion, pushing his advantage now. "I say we move on, measure his skills as a warrior and strategist and then we take council together."

  "Alright," said Celegon. "Tirion is right and we do not have much time. Scouts have already reported the approach of the Silvans. They flock to the fortress by the hundreds and they will want their answer. We are together in this. We stick to the facts and we put him to the test, but I want no repetition of any prejudiced behaviour," he warned, his eyes lingering on Brethil and Barathon.

  "We move on then, to phase two. Standard protocol applies as of now and," he emphasised, "we have a wounded warrior in our midst. Guard! Send for a healer."

  "Sir!" saluted the guard.

  It was all Tirion and Dorhinen needed to stride into the courtyard and hoist Legolas onto his feet.

  "The worst is over, Legolas," said Tirion as they steadied him, and then took him inside, to a room with a small bed. Someone had lit candles and fresh water stood in a bowl in one corner.

  Sitting slowly, Legolas allowed his eyes to slip shut, and by the time he opened them once more, fingers were in his hair, letting it down and unravelling the untidy braids at his temples. Yet he startled when he realised it was neither Tirion nor Dorhinen, but Captains Dunorel and Lanthir.

  The smell of food reached his nose and his mouth watered. He did not care what it was, he just wanted to eat it, fill
his empty belly and drink his fill of cool water.

  There was one thing though, that he would not do - he would not think - for his mind was too full of the incredible things that Celegon had spoken of. Should he start to think of them he knew he would not stop, and although Tirion had told him the worst was over, he knew, nonetheless, that it had not finished.

  His tunic was unlaced and his shirt removed. Cold water bathed his face and chest, and kind hands prodded his nose and his cheek. Opening his eyes for a moment, the deep blue eyes of Llyniel stared back at him and he startled momentarily, before smiling widely, and then wincing when his cut lip told him not to.

  Friendly hands squeezed his shoulders and soon, he was left almost alone, save for Tirion and Dorhinen, standing just outside the door.

  "Eat," smiled Tirion, watching as Legolas grabbed for the bread and cheese, making short work of it before biting down on a pear, its sweet juice running down his chin unchecked.

  He chuckled. "Well, you are still a growing lad, I suppose," said Tirion and Legolas smiled ruefully. He had not been able to eat breakfast for his nerves had gotten the better of him.

  "Are you surprised, Legolas? Surprised that your own people could treat you as they have?"

  "Somewhat, perhaps," said Legolas. "I understand their need to judge me, I know they have little time but it just seemed…"

  "Cruel?"

  "Yes…those captains, they are the commanders! the warriors I have always looked up to. I know their names, their deeds. I have only ever wanted to be like them, Tirion."

  "I admit there were times, when I wanted to intervene, when Barathon and Brethil had you. But listen to me, Legolas. Their cruelty has not gone unnoticed. You saw Lanthir and Dunorel here now, but had we allowed it, most of those captains out there would have done the same. This is not easy for them, but the responsibility, the consequences should they fail to judge you truly, could mean civil war."

  "I know, Tirion. It is just me and my childish ways, I suppose. Strange that one slap from a captain, can be more harrowing than all the insults they threw at me…"

  Tirion stared back at Legolas, his words sinking in, straight through his heart.

  "Sleep, Legolas, for at dawn you will be called upon once more, only this time you will face us in tactics and combat - and here, we do not use training weapons…"

  That night, Legolas slept fitfully at the barracks while the Captains debated the day's procedures, and at the Fortress, Handir was long to find reverie. The king slept not at all, and neither did Glorfindel, who chose the gardens to wander aimlessly, give free rein to his tumultuous thoughts.

  Elladan sat with The Company, talking quietly of the king's revelations, and further away, in a tent, but two days ride away, Erthoron spoke quietly with Lorthil and Golloron, and Amareth smiled in joyful anticipation.

  Across the plains, further still, a female elf sat amongst the trees, her light blue eyes trained on the stars above, marking their passage as she reminisced of times gone by, her eyes young yet resolute, sparkling with the thrill of adventure.

  And when the night was darkest, an elf tossed and turned in his bed, his face twisted in pain as his head twitched from side to side until his eyes flew wide open and from his mouth a single word was whispered.

  'Aglareb.'

  He had slept so deeply his eyes felt puffy, and then he remembered that one was probably bigger than the other. His nose tickled him and was sore to the touch and there was a scab at one corner of his mouth.

  The only good thing that had come with the mistreatment was the fleeting presence of Llyniel, the Silvan healer he had met on his arrival with Handir; shame though, that he had been so tired he had not fully taken advantage of the moment. And then he remembered the kindness the captains had shown him, for they had unbraided his hair, washed his face and squeezed his shoulder. He was not hated, at least not by most and that was an encouraging thought, he decided. True, there was much to show, to discuss before they could even remotely trust him, and so little time in which to do so.

  He suddenly realised that with the coming of the Silvans, there was every chance that Amareth would be with them, Erthoron and Thavron his childhood friend, and he smiled for the first time since he had entered the barracks, and then quickly sobered, for he wondered if it would be the only one to pass his lips this day…

  Breakfast was underway inside the fortress, and Thranduil sat with his sons, with Elladan, Glorfindel and Mithrandir as his guests, and further away, the Company sat and watched them, for the slightest hint that perhaps the Inner Circle had concluded its hearing. But there was nothing, nothing but tight faces and sparing conversation. They were nervous, it seemed, for surely a meeting need not take so long…

  But then this had been no ordinary meeting, as Elladan had explained to them the previous evening, and wait they must. Only Dorhinen was with Legolas and they prayed the mercurial Sinda would keep him safe.

  "Are you not worried about him at all?" asked Elladan, his eyes trained on Rinion.

  "I'm not," he said blithely.

  Glorfindel was about to change the subject, but Elladan did not let him.

  "Why?"

  "Why?" chuckled Rinion. "I do not know him," he said, as if that was all there was to it.

  "True," said Elladan. "And then there is the small fact - that he is your brother…" he said ironically.

  "And?" asked Rinion.

  "You do not see it, do you?" asked Elladan calmly.

  "Elladan, leave it be," said Glorfindel warningly.

  "As you wish," he said, but his eyes would not leave Rinion's. "You see, Glorfindel. Legolas is my very good friend, and when the time comes I hope he will be my commander. I brook no slight to him, not in my presence."

  "Perhaps you should leave?" asked Rinion with a smirk.

  "Rinion," said Thranduil, his eyes sparkling dangerously.

  "Forgive me father," he said.

  "Children, Thranduil," said Mithrandir, "can be difficult, pesky even. They improve with time, they say."

  Rinion's nostrils flared and Elladan smirked into his cup, even though he himself had been included in the wizard's less than flattering judgement.

  "Now, there is nothing we can do for Legolas - not until the captains finish with him, for good or for bad, but if I know that lad just a little, he will do his job," said the wizard calmly.

  "Which is?" asked Rinion.

  "Win their trust. Show them he is not your enemy, that he is loyal to the crown, and - tell them that he obeys a higher power, that will be the real test, Rinion."

  "And is he - all those things?" asked the Crown Prince, no longer sarcastic.

  "Oh yes," said Mithrandir. "He is all that - he risked his life to save your brother, and he would do the same for you. And what of you, Rinion? would you do the same for him?" he asked, an expression of pity on his face for the wizard already knew the answer to that, indeed Rinion did not answer him.

  And so they sat and ate, and in spite of Rinion, the conversation was not stilted. He couldn't be sure, but Elladan had the distinct feeling that Rinion was losing his battle in his role as an uncaring half-brother, and as for Thranduil, he seemed to grow as time wore on, thoroughly entertained by the tales they told him, of the adventures they had lived, of the extraordinary elf that was his son - his silvan son.

  He had dressed in his uniform, strapped on his quiver and reverently placed his new bow inside. His twin knives sat inside the soft leather, crossing over his back and a shorter dagger hung from his belt.

  He had secured his Avarin locks and plaited his hair into one, thick braid that sat over one shoulder and reached down to his weapons belt. He still remembered the threat that Barathon had made about cutting his Avarin braids off. Repressing a shudder, he reached for his cape, just as a curt wrap on his door heralded the arrival of Captain Thoron.

  "Legolas. Come, join us for breakfast."

  Legolas stared at the captain in surprise, hardly believing his words. He ha
d expected harsh treatment, food deprivation, insults but not this for it had sounded normal - friendly, even.

  Thoron smiled, obviously reading his thoughts. "That part of the trial is over, warrior. Come," he repeated, before leading the way into the communal dining hall.

  There, the habitual blanket of silence followed him as it always did but with the warriors, it was but a momentary lull before they were back to their quiet conversations. There were no judgemental stares, no hate, just acknowledgement of his arrival. It was refreshing and he allowed himself to relax a little. True enough he had not seen Barathon and Brethil in one corner for there could be no mistaking the emotions in their hard, uncaring eyes.

  Captain Tirion stood and beckoned him over to his table. Saluting, Legolas sat were he was shown and nodded at Dunorel, and then smiled sparingly at lieutenant Dorhinen, who seemed to be having a somewhat meaningful conversation with Dunorel, a fellow Sinda.

  "But why, why did you refuse that recommendation?" asked Dunorel.

  "Because I was not worthy of it," said the cold Sinda.

  "It wasn't your fault, Dorhinen. Even the king knows this, still trusts you implicitly."

  Dorhinen did not answer and Legolas was shocked to see a fleeting moment of emotion pass over his face. It was grief, he realised, grief for his fallen king if Legolas was not mistaken. He could not forgive himself for the loss of Oropher…

  He chanced a glance at Dunorel and then Dorhinen, but quickly looked back at his plate as the Sinda caught him.

  "It must be difficult for you, that this son of Thranduil should resemble him so much."

  Legolas hesitated for a moment, before finally eating his bread, eyes back on Dorhinen.

  "It is - strange - I admit."

  "It is strange for us all," said Dunorel to his table companions.

  "He is the spitting image," said Tirion. It's how I knew, how Lainion too, had no doubts as to who he was."

  Legolas' head bowed at the mention of his lost brother and Tirion's calming hand fell upon his vambrace. "Peace, child, it calms with time…"