The Jewel of Mirkwood

Chapter 17

The young prince awoke to the unfamiliar smell of freshly baked bread and most unusually a strange perfume. It was a harsh smell that seemed to overpower him to the point at which he felt like sneezing. Unlike the fresh smell of flowers the court ladies in Mirkwood wore this smell was harsh like fresh cut wood and smoked nuts. Before opening his eyes Legolas listened to the sounds around him to try and asses where he was. Beside him he could hear someone’s breathing deep and steady like a man asleep, not far away he could hear the sounds of women talking in westron and hooves of horses upon coble stones. They were all sounds he would have heard in the town outside the palace and so reluctantly Legolas slowly opened his eyes. If he was indeed still within Mirkwood forest his father would not be far away to come and get him and take him safely home.

It was a shock however to open his eyes and find himself staring up at the high rafters of a wooden thatched building of some sort. Panicking a little Legolas struggled to find his hands on the blankets of the bed and force himself to sit up however a strong-callused hand touched his shoulder and pushed him firmly back to the pillow.

“Relax master elf you are still injured and must rest.” Swallowing hard Legolas looked sharply across to his right having heard the sound of the deep mellow voice of a man. The man was old with a pair of wire eyeglasses. His grey beared trailed to the collar of his tunic and curled in wisps around his thin, parched lips. The man had a strange long pipe dangling from between his lips that puffed out smoke with every breath the man let out. The smell when he’d first woken up, Legolas now associated with the pipe and he coughed deeply as the smoke filtered into his lungs like stale air. Obligingly the man tapped out the pipe on an open windowsill sensing the elf’s discomfort with his smoking.

“Where am I?” Legolas coughed one last time to clear his lungs welcoming the fresh air into the room from the open window behind him. The old man smiled warmly and gestured to himself.

“I am healer Warwick of the farming village of Sailston and this is my home.” Legolas frowned before sighing in despair. He had never heard of any such named town being near Mirkwood and his heart sank having realised that he must be far away from his home. There was no way he was going to talk to the human. He had been taught from a young age that men were not to be trusted their betrayal of elves in the past was well documented in Mirkwood’ Library. If he should ever get home his father would further hate him for having talked to the human stranger, so he was determined to keep his mouth shut and only ask questions that would lead to him going home. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes as he watched the old man get up from the chair beside his bed and shuffle slowly across the room to retrieve a tray of food. “You must be hungry master elf, it has been many years since I have treated one of your kind and I have forgotten much of your habits. I am hoping there is something that takes your appetite on this tray.” Legolas’ felt his stomach growl in approval of the idea of food and the young prince attempted to sit up ready to receive the food. “No, No, you must not move if you are to heal correctly.” The old man shuffled quickly back to Legolas’ bedside and gently helped the elf prop himself up on the pillows. Admittedly Legolas had quite forgotten about his injury but now as he lay back against the pile of pillows a stinging pain swept down his side and embedded itself in his ribs. “Here I will help you eat.” Legolas screwed his nose up in disgust of the brown sloppy oats that were lifted towards his mouth upon a spoon. It was the type of thing the horse healers fed to sick horses during the winter to warm theelliellies and was certainly not fit to be eaten by an elf. Turning his head away from the approaching spoon Legolas shook his head determinedly, his lips tightly closed in protest. Really he shouldn’t have been so fussy considering the man’s generosity but Legolas could not stomach anything so unappealing as horse feed. The old man seemed to get the hint and lowered the spoon again this time reaching for a freshly baked roll of bread and a small dipping bowl of honey. “If the porridge is not to your liking perhaps a little bread and honey will be more to your tastes.” The old man’s wrinkled hands broke a little of the bread away from the roll and coated it in honey before lifting it to the prince’s lips. This time Legolas took the offered mouthful savouring the taste of a honey certainly not made from pinewood bees. A smile graced the older man’s face as he watched the elf before him swallow the mouthful before reaching himself for another piece of bread. “There you see I have not forgotten too much, I see all elves are partial to a little fresh bread and fine honey.” Legolas ignored the older man and continued to break the bread roll into pieces dipping it into the honey before quickly eating it.

Warwick had watched Legolas until he had finished the entire roll and bowl of honey before he stood and poured a glass of cool sparkling water from a pitcher beside the bed. Desperately thirsty Legolas accepted the water, careful to sniff at it for signs of spiking before deeming it subtitle and drinking it down. The older man chuckled at Legolas’ suspiciousness but said nothing as he removed the tray from Legolas’ bed and helped the elf lie back down again. Legolas felt better with a full stomach yet he was still wary of the old man who didn’t seem to take his eyes off him no matter where he went in the room.

“You are fair of face master elf, may I inquire from where you hail?” Legolas bit his lip cautiously torn between telling the man of his origin and keeping his silence. Deciding it was a better idea to speak Legoopenopened his mouth and slowly whispered his short reply.

”Mirkwood.” Not intending to say any more Legolas watched as the Warwick turned around from his mixing of potions on the desk the far side of the room to smile widely at the elf, slightly surprised.

“Mirkwood indeed? I did not know the elves of Mirkwood had manes of blonde?” Legolas swallowed hard and self-consciouswirlwirled a stray braid around his finger before pulling the covers up closer around his naked chest. Only now did he realise that he was all but naked beneath the bedclothes, his loincloth the only item having not been removed. No one had even seen him so exposed before accept for Filgree. The name of his tutor brought pain to his heart and the tears he’d suppressed earlier sprang to his eyes again this time trailing down his cheeks.

“Where are my clothes I wish to go home now?” The old man stared sternly at the young elf and vehemently shook his head.

“You are not going anywhere master elf it took most of the night to remove that arrow and I shan’t have you undoing all that work by getting infection.” Legolas stared shocked at the Warwick’s stern words. “Now tell me your name master elf and I shall send a message to your family informing them of your situation.” Legolas swallowed hard as Warwick came to stand at the end of the bed his hands on his hips looking quite disturbingly powerful. Hesitating in speaking Legolas tried to think of an imaginary name for himself but nothing came to mind and in the end he merely whispered the only name he could think of.

“My name is Filgree and I have no family so the message will not be necessary.” Legolas lowered his gaze from Warwicks suddenly frightened that the older man might pick up his lie but nothing was said and Warwick moved to the door to the room, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

“Very well Filgree I will leave you to rest, there is a bell on the window sill if you require anything and should you need to relieve yourself the bedpan is under the side table to your right.” Legolas was visibly disgusted by any such idea of relieving himself in a pan and scrunched up his nose in disgust. His father had been right, humans had dirty habits concerning their health, it was no wonder that the alehouse in the town smelt so fowl when the humans were in town for trade discussions. When the door to the room closed again and Warwick had left Legolas sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Getting home would not be as easy as he’d always been led to believe. Filgree had said once that your feet know the way home even when your mind had forgotten yet he very much doubted that now. Gingerly Legolas turned over to face the window, the midday sun was just shining through the window onto the bed and Legolas basked in its comforting warmth. There was no point in running away or sneaking out he would not get far with the gash in his side, especially if he did not know the way home. He would rest until he was well then he would leave and try and find his own way home.

TBC>...............