Promises Made: Legolas/ Elladan

Legolas’ Story

On his return to his home, Legolas had been melancholy. He missed Elladan. There was an easy companionship with the older elf, Elladan was patience and considerate of him, showed him things that he had not been allowed to do at home. With his father’s consent he had held his first bow, a weapon fashioned to his size by Elladan himself, had even been permitted to hold the sword of his friend. The weeks had passed far too quickly, and now he was back in his father’s realm and lonely. Thranduil smiled indulgently at his young son, recognising the hero worship in him. It was not a bad thing, Elladan was a worthy subject for Legolas to model his life on, bold, but not to the edge of recklessness, loyal to his land and its people. Legolas could have chosen worse, and Elladan had been aware and treated the young one with respect. Thranduil was grateful for that also. He was aware of the flow of letters without rising comment. However, there were duties now that had to be performed, Legolas being groomed for his position with his own home and soon there would be little time for such things.

Thranduil sat on the bench, his arm around his son as he spoke of his hopes for the future. Legolas already had displayed an aptitude for the bow, so it would not be such a hardship for him to follow this path and defend against the darkness that pervaded the trees. Thranduil wondered where the years had gone, it seemed so short a time passed that he had held a new born son in his arms and marveled at the miracle that had granted him this gift. The passage of time had granted him more marvels watching the elfling grow. That he was proud of Legolas was undisguised.

“Almost of age,” he whispered softly as he kissed the shining blond hair.

“Some years to go yet Ada,” Legolas replied, “I have yet to test myself.”

“That time will come, you begin on the morrow your training.”

Legolas beamed, kissing his father’s cheek as he embraced him. “You will be proud of me,” he vowed.

Thranduil returned the embrace tightly. “I am already my son, I am already.”

Legolas launched himself into his tasks with the enthusiasm that is youth. Eagerly he shared what he could with Elladan in his letters, telling him all. With as much eagerness he read Elladan’s letters to him, reveling in the detail that Elladan disclosed of his life. As the days swept passed, Legolas eased the frequency of the writings. It was not that he had lessened his desire to tell Elladan all, it was more he learned that the twins were seldom within the borders of Imladris, and Thranduil had suggested tactfully that there were other matters that required Elladan’s attention and it may not always be possible to respond to the letters as they accumulated when the twins were absent for months at a time. Legolas reluctantly saw the wisdom in those words. He would write again when the chance came for Elladan to remain at home.

Estar was striking in appearance. His dark hair highlighted with silver, tall and muscular for his age. The son of one of his father’s advisors he had not often been seen within the confines of the palace, living most times with his mother’s family until the time came for him prepare for adulthood. Already he had captivated many though he fended most away with a politeness that left few offended. With Legolas there was an immediate affinity, and before long the two were companions, often found training together and sharing their studies.

This did not displease Thranduil, nor did the new acquaintance’s effects on his communication with Elladan. The older elf would understand the turn of events, acknowledging no doubt the increasing maturity of his erstwhile friend. Legolas indeed was becoming less the little one who had been so enamored with Elladan in Imladris. Time had added to his frame and to his form, a combination that had not gone unnoticed. It may be a father’s less critical eye, but Thranduil could not help the satisfaction he felt when he regarded his son. Not only was he a sight to behold physically at such a young age, but he matched this with a reserve of character that was equally attractive. Yes, Thranduil thought as Legolas and Estar walked with arms around each other from yet another training session, this liaison was not an unwelcome one.

Legolas clasped his friend on the back, turning to embrace him more fully as they made their separate ways. Legolas looked up with a wave to his father before skipping up the steps to his rooms. Once there he sank into the prepared bath to soak away the fatigue and heat of the day’s events. He smiled as he recalled the news that had been delivered from returning scouts.

There had been little open talk of Elladan, but Legolas had not forgotten as many presumed he had. He shared his thoughts with Estar who listened in rapt attention at the pictures painted of the hidden valley, dreaming his own dreams. Time and space had given Legolas a new perspective on his affection for Elladan. Studies had taught him of the belief in a destiny that now gave reasons for what he had felt in Elladan’s company, feelings that were not understood at the time. Estar’s friendship helped Legolas crystallize these emotions.

Letting the scented water lap around him, Legolas laughed softly at the gossip that linked him to his friend, none knowing as he did of the love Estar was discovering. But the thoughts that brought the brightest smile was news that Elladan was well and returned to Imladris. The Greenwood had been too distant from the battle to be of any assistance though there had been those who wished to try. The small group that had been granted permission brought the news of the success albeit with the lives of elves lost. Legolas had been fraught, his dreams restless until the news received this day. In awed tones they had spoken of the prowess of the twins sons of Elrond, gallant and proud in battle, bringing honour to their name. Legolas was merely thankful that the blood spilled was not Elladan’s.


Later, after he had dressed and eaten, he would sit at the desk and write. He had much he wished to tell.