4. Returning to the Fray
where he might return. Half an hour after finding the Prince, he had only just
managed to calm Legolas to stand still, instead of pacing along a rather narrow
and high-up (at least to the Hobbit's perspective) ledge that overlooked the
Western cliffs and beach of Valinor.
I might be able to get him to go back, thought Sam, but bugger
if I'll be the one to get the tale from him. Would be fun, though. Me, getting
that whopping great tale from 'im. But as the Gaffer always tells me, 'It's not
up to you to make 'em bloom. You're just the one to make the ground nice and
"But Mr. Legolas..."
"Sam, out of curiousity, how long will it take you to call me just by my
"Sir? ... Oh, err, Legolas? Right, sorry. But it's just a tale. We've got
loads of 'em what'll make the cheeks rosy, so to speak. None more so than me. I
could weave a good tale about those rascals Merry and Pip, no doubt. But the
stories, they're of no harm. They just make people laugh. And with all we've
seen, and now that everything's over and all, a laugh can't hurt, can it?"
Sam completely missed the sudden glimmer that sparked in Legolas' eyes.
Chuckling briefly about a memory of some past indiscretion by Pippin, he also
missed the decrease in Legolas' attention. Legolas, on the other hand, was
suddenly swept by the gravity of what Sam had just admitted. Indeed, the
gardener surely could spin some tales. But so could Legolas. Millennia of
patient observation of others was not without its rewards, after all.
Sam just kept on doggedly trying to convince Legolas to return. "Besides,
we...I mean you're missing all that wonderful food and drink." Suddenly,
Sam realized how long this was taking, and that three very keen hobbits had
been left behind near the pastry table. Could he be sure they would wait for
him? Would there be anything left? A sudden intake of breath from Sam shook
Legolas from his contemplations. The shock on Sam's face was easily read, and
Legolas was quick to ease his companion's nerves.
"You're right, Sam. They know nothing, and there is little they can do
about it. But we should not keep you from the celebrations. And it would be
wrong to deny our friends. Besides, I have a suspicion that things are about to
Together, they walked through the many halls towards the Great Hall, talking
calmly as old friends are wont to do. Their voices carried nicely through the
hallways, giving plenty of warning to those plotting within. It did not matter
to the Prince. Let them have their warning. It would avail them little. He now
had a store of weapons as varied as memory itself.
Legolas entered through a door in the centre of the northern wall. He hoped
that his entrance was not unnoticed. There seemed to be no change in the ambience of the room. No one swarmed
over to him. Merry and Pippin quickly ran over to fetch Sam so that they might
begin attacking the pastries, with naught but a quick greeting to Legolas. He
casually convinced himself their eagerness was due to Sam's absence, and
thought no more on the matter. He therefore missed the pointed looks and the
sudden redness that swept over Sam's face, as he turned to scold Merry and
Pippin and looked guiltily over his shoulder at the elf who was beginning to
walk unsuspectingly through the crowd.
Legolas had managed to make it a mere yard past the door when he felt a stiff
breeze sweep across his back. Turning suddenly, he stifled a groan in his
throat, unintentionally (but effectively) turning it into a growl.
Barring the door stood a pair of kings, a steward and two princes, four of whom
grinned unabashedly, and the fifth looked as apprehensive (if not desperate) as
Legolas was beginning to feel. So much for having entered unnoticed, thought Legolas, with no small measure of annoyance
"Legolas, my DEAR friend" drawled Aragorn. Having spent so much time
in their company, Aragorn was doing a remarkably good imitation of Elladan and
Elrohir's most sinister smirks, while at the same time trying (and not trying
very hard, at that) to maintain an air of innocence that would fool no one.
Legolas, without hesitation, turned determinedly towards the southern exit at
the other end of the room. Unfortunately, from that direction came Maglor,
Maedhros, Olwë, Elwë and Beren. From the furthest West, Arwen and Lúthien began
descending on him with uncommon grace and poise, leaving the company of
Galadriel and Celebrían. Just to the North of them, came Elrond, Celeborn and
Haldir. And from the East came the most dreaded group yet: Oropher, Thranduil,
Tanglinna, and the sons of Elrond. He was effectively trapped. Too effectively.
They were coming to him.
He grinned inwardly, while outwardly he exhibited all the wariness and
apprehension of a trapped rabbit.
Some will rue the night they chose to cross me.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.