~Many, many years later... The war is over, Legolas has returned home and Lasriel wants to see him. Thranduil makes her promise to keep her mother's identity secret.~

"The past can hurt. But the way I see it,
you can either run from it,
or learn from it."

– Rafiki, The Lion King

~♕~

2. Reunited

"Naneth!" Lasriel put her full baskets down. "I have fantastic news!"

Her mother looked up from her book, using a finger as a bookmark. "Oh?"

"We won!" She twirled on the spot. "I just heard it in the market. The war is over!"

"Are you sure? The Necromancer..."

"His fortress in Dol Guldur was torn down, and the Dark Lord of Mordor defeated. Most of his minions have fled. The forest is safe!"

"Elbereth be blessed!" She joined her daughter in the impromptu dance. "I have been so worried about our village and the life we lead here. That we would be forced to leave... But no more of that!"

"Indeed. No more orc attacks!" Lasriel removed her boots and leather rain cloak and hung them up. Schooling her voice to sound neutral, she added: "The king has invited the whole realm to celebrate the victory – and the return of his son."

"I see." Her mother's smile waned.

"I know we never see them anymore for good reasons, but I am so curious what he..." She hesitated; she had meant to say 'looks like now', but that sounded superficial. "Uh, what he has been through during his journey. I really think we ought to attend, this time.

"You know we cannot."

"But surely, after all these years..."

"Lasriel. Please."

She sighed. "Sorry for bringing it up." Biting down her disappointment she began unpacking the food.

"Chin up. We celebrate on our own, here where we are safe. Just you and I, as always."

"Just you and I," she repeated, sounding only a tiny bit bitter.

~♕~

A fine mist covered the garden when Lasriel slipped out a couple of days later, silently shutting the door behind her. It was before sunrise and the air was crisp.

Naneth would be so angry when she found her room empty, but she just had to do this. After many long, sleepless nights she had come to the conclusion she needed closure – and she was certain he did too. It would only be a brief visit, enough to see him and see if they could still be friends, after everything.

It couldn't hurt, could it?

Creeping along the path into the dark, looming wood, she anxiously squeezed the filet knife she had brought with her. There were still giant spiders in these parts... She increased her pace. Perhaps she ought to just run the whole way to the palace?

A branch cracked and a couple of frightened wood pigeons flapped out from the underbrush. Lasriel's heart tried to escape through her throat.

Yes. It was probably safest to run.

When she arrived in the central part of Greenwood a few hours later, her hair and clothes were soaked with perspiration and sprinkled with mud from the path. But she was alive, and that was the most important of course.

Despite the early hour there were lots of elves around, some standing in small groups talking, others walking purposefully this way or that, carrying loaded baskets or pushing small carts. Walking through the crowd, Lasriel started to feel very small and very out of place, like the country elf she was. But she kept her chin up, determined to go through with this. She had to.

Where would the feast be held? Inside the palace or outside?

It was probably best to just ask someone.

"Excuse me." She awkwardly edged closer to an elegant elleth. "Where will the party be?"

"That way." She pointed, looking like she tried hard not to wrinkle her nose at Lasriel's disheveled state. "Just follow the path until the forest opens up."

She thanked her and hurried on. Never mind muddy clothes; the celebration would begin in the evening and it was still only morning, she had plenty of time to dry and catch her breath.

The feast area was a large clearing, with several long, halved logs as tables and similar logs as benches on either side. At one end a huge pile of sticks and branches had been prepared for a bonfire. A few servants were placing autumn leaf decorations on the tables and hanging lanterns from the trees.

Lasriel looked for a place to hide while she dried. There! A tall oak in the outskirts of the clearing seemed perfect. She quickly scrambled up it, ignoring the extra stains she got on her dress in the process. Sitting down comfortably where the trunk forked, she could finally relax; now all she had to do was wait.

~♕~

Gazing thoughtfully into space, Legolas munched slowly on a piece of ham, the large part of his breakfast still untouched on his plate. But his new dwarf friend compensated by eating for two.

Thranduil peered worriedly at his son; something was off and he couldn't figure out what it was. He wished he had been able to talk to him without a dwarf as an unwelcome audience, but apparently the two were inseparable.

In an attempt to break the uncanny silence, he asked: "Is that what you are wearing tonight?" It was not the travel stained tunic he had arrived in, but a similar one from his wardrobe; plain hunter's green.

Legolas smiled. "I was only away for a year; I do remember some court etiquette still."

"That is a relief. You are a prince and need to look the part."

"Hm." He became thoughtful again.

It was disconcerting to see his eyes grow vacant. In the past, he had always been a cheerful and lighthearted ellon, taking most things as they came without complaining – even during the horrible first years after he lost his mother. Thranduil himself had been a broken mess, but despite his youth, Legolas had comforted him and confidently told him they would soon meet again in the Undying Lands.

But now... Since returning from the war he had been silent, sometimes even brooding. What was wrong?

Thranduil decided to stop beating around the bush and just ask, ignoring the dwarven third wheel. "You are very quiet, son. What are you thinking about?"

"My naneth, actually."

A slight chill crept along his spine. "What about her?" he asked carefully.

"I have decided to go see her. Sail there, I mean." His expressive eyes had a longing look.

Thranduil's chill became a full-blown ice storm and he nearly choked on his tea. "S-see her?"

"I saw seagulls some weeks back and was reminded of her, so I figured–"

"You can't," he blurted without thinking, and then instantly regretted his carelessness. Legolas must not suspect anything. "Uh, I mean, it is a bit early for you to leave Middle-earth," he added in a calmer voice – or at least he hoped it was calm. "Does not the new king need help? That King Elessar you mentioned." His fingers had clenched around the armrests of his chair, now he willed them to relax.

"Aye, I have promised Elessar to restore the woods of Ithilien, so I shall live there for a few decades before I sail." He met Thranduil's gaze. "Maybe we can travel to Valinor together? You must miss her too."

"Of course." He heard how strangled he sounded but hoped his son would think it was due to grief.

It seemed to work. "My apologies; I did not mean to unsettle you." He rose, turning to his friend. "I would like to show you more of my home, Gimli. What do you say to a tour around the city before the feast?"

"A very good suggestion, my lad," the dwarf beamed.

Chatting amiably, the two of them left.

Thranduil frowned at their retreating backs; one tall and lithe, one short and square. This was another worry. Friendship between elves and dwarves was just not natural.

~♕~

The clearing became increasingly busy as the day progressed. On a small dais musicians tuned their instruments and played a few practice pieces, and a heavenly smell of whole deer and hogs roasting on spits spread from the cooking fires.

Lasriel's stomach growled; she had missed both breakfast and lunch. Would the party begin soon?

As a distraction, she looked down at the people walking past her tree, impressed by how finely dressed they were compared to the elves in the village back home, and even servants wore jewelry. She also reflected on how nicely they had done their long hair, with rows of neat, small braids holding it back on their temples. Running her fingers through her own tangles, she tried without much success to smooth them down.

She saw no elflings, but that was natural; the past centuries had been dark and dangerous, and a bad time to bring new lives into the world. But she was certain that would change now that the Dark Lord was dead. Perhaps beginning tonight.

The thought saddened her a little. If not for the tragedy, she might have been a mother already, and Legolas her husband.

Did he think about that sometimes too? Did he regret that they lost contact?

An odd pair entering the clearing drew her eyes. Was that a dwarf? She had seen one once when she visited Dale with her mother, and this one looked a lot like him. He was nearly wider than he was tall, with a mop of wild, red hair that made Lasriel's seem silky in comparison.

The ellon on his side was tall, and his hair an unusual silver blond hue.

Lasriel's breath hitched when she recognized him. It was him!

His face had changed; it was more masculine now, with thick, dark eyebrows and a strong jawline, but his blue eyes were the same, and when he smiled at something the dwarf said his dimples were the same as well.

Her heartbeat increased. Sweet Elbereth, what a sight for sore eyes! As a child he had been cute, and she had quite adored him, but this... This was different. He had become handsome.

Impulsively she dropped out of the tree, landing inelegantly in front of him.

"Legolas!" She scrambled to her feet.

His eyebrows shot up. "Miss ...?"

"I can't believe it is really you, after all these years! Do you not remember me?"

"Uh... I can't really say–"

"I understand; it has been many centuries since the last time. I am Lasriel, and my naneth's name is–"

"Lasriel!" A vaguely familiar, impeccably dressed ellon swiftly came between her and Legolas. "You certainly have grown. How is Thuriniel, your dear naneth?" He emphasized the name, catching her gaze as he did so.

Her cheeks grew warm as she realized who he was, and she quickly dipped her head in a bow. "My lord." It was the king.

"I remember you now," said Legolas. "We used to play when we were little." He chuckled. "I see you still like to climb trees."

"That is right!" she beamed. "We were good friends before your naneth–"

"... passed away, aye," The king cut in, looking at her meaningfully again.

Finally Lasriel understood; Legolas didn't know. And for some reason his father wanted it that way.

Thranduil continued: "You must be eager to be reacquainted with your childhood friend, but first you probably wish to wash up after your journey and change clothes? Follow me." He took her arm.

"But..."

"Please. I insist."

She could not refuse a direct order. Meekly, Lasriel lumbered off in his wake.

When they had left the feast area, the Elvenking's amiable features turned wary. "I am sorry about that, but your naneth's real name is very famous nowadays, legendary even. People believe she left these shores and that your adar went to find her. If they find out that she is still in Middle-earth they will ask why then he left – and I think neither of us want the answer to that to be known, do we?"

"Nay, but... I only meant to tell it to Legolas. I thought he knew the truth?"

"He was very young when it happened and would not have understood. I wanted to spare him."

Lasriel wondered why he hadn't told him later, when he was old enough. Such as now. Was it better to let him believe his mother had died? But it was not in her nature to argue.

"Will you promise me to keep the secret?" Thranduil asked.

"I promise."

"Thank you." He smiled relievedly. "Where is your naneth now? After such a long time, I much desire to speak with her."

She dropped her gaze. "Uh, at home."

"At home?" he repeated incredulously. "She let her daughter walk all that way alone?"

"Well..."

"Oh. She did not, did she?" He suddenly sounded very stern and kingly.

Lasriel tried not to flinch. "I had to come," she whispered. "I wanted to see..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"Well then," he said after a brief silence. "Stay. Renew your friendship with my son. But I shall escort you home personally after the feast."

"But my lord!"

"I insist."

Again, his voice left her no choice but to agree. "If you say so, my lord," she mumbled, mortified.

Elbereth, be merciful. Her mother would kill her.

~♕~

When Lasriel returned to the clearing a while later, scrubbed clean and dressed in a borrowed dress, Legolas was nowhere to be seen.

But what did she expect? Of course he hadn't waited for who knew long. But she figured since this feast was in his honor, he would return in time to see it begin. And then she could talk to him and become friends again.

Perhaps more than friends...?

After all, they were betrothed.

A/N:

For you unfamiliar with Tolkien, elves are immortal beings but they can be killed. The Undying Lands (also called Aman or Valinor) are located on a special island west of Middle-earth; a pleasant place full of elvish magic and healing, where they get reborn – but it is also possible for elves to sail there on their own volition.

Translations: Adar=father, naneth=mother.

Image Credits: Noah (2014 film)