Upon the Branching Years by IgnobleBard

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Knight Life

Will Legolas ever learn, will Glorfindel?

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The life of a knight was taxing, with hours of exercise followed by weapons, combat, and melee training. Every night the first week he fell into bed, exhausted, after bathing and getting a rub down from the trainers. As much as he wanted to be with Glorfindel he was simply kept too busy to seek him out. Nor did Glorfindel call for him, making Legolas wonder if he had changed his mind.

Legolas took his first patrol four weeks later. By then he had developed his stamina to the point that leaping up and down small peaks and boulders among the steep mountain paths became as easy as strolling the wide streets and boulevards of the city. His navigation was infallible, impressing the knights of the Tree as well as those from other houses with which he shared the watch. The patrols were changed every two weeks and Legolas learned that in times past there had been greater numbers with longer tours, but those had been cut back years ago when the king decided their concealment was ensured by their location and enchantments.

After returning from patrol, Legolas returned to the training schedule until his next patrol assignment. He still needed a lot of practice with the heavy spiked clubs the Tree guard favored. They felt awkward and took much brute strength to wield. Erestor showed him the technique many times but try as he might, Legolas could never best him in combat.

“Your footwork is good, but your heart is lacking. How is it you can kill a fly with an arrow from a hundred yards, yet cannot deliver a killing blow to a man directly in front of you?” he asked one day.

Legolas was panting heavily while Erestor was barely winded from their exchange. “Perhaps because I don’t have to face the possibility of the fly caving my head in.”

“That’s not it. You find the weapon inelegant I think, but you must work with what you have. Each house has its own weapons and fighting style for a reason. If one system fails, the others will win through. That is why you must learn, even if you don’t like it. It might save your life one day.”

“I’m trying,” Legolas said, barely ducking in time as Erestor swung at his head.

“As long as your reflexes are good, you’ll be all right,” Erestor replied genially. “Just try harder.”

“I would rather just use the sling, and perhaps a long knife,” Legolas grumbled.

“Neither will help you against a Balrog.”

Legolas remembered the book of history he had loved as a youth, with illustrated pictures of the battle of Gondolin. Reading about the events would not prepare him for the time to come, this training was the only thing that would. At times he got so caught up in everyday events he neglected to remember his mission. He had to be ready and so he resolved to develop the skill to the best of his ability.

“Then let’s go another round,” he said, swinging at Erestor with all his might.

One evening he asked Orthul to accompany him to dinner. They had not seen each other since the knighting ceremony as Legolas lived with the men at arms now. Orthul was thrilled, eager to catch up with him on his adventures. After the meal, they strolled to the King’s Square to listen to a concert. Legolas was certain he caught a glimpse of Glorfindel at the concert but when he looked for him he was nowhere to be found. At last Orthul bid him good night, saying he had an early day tomorrow and could not lay abed like Galdor’s lazy guard. Legolas laughed and gave him a friendly punch on the arm.

“Ow! You don’t know your own strength,” he said, rubbing at the spot.

“Sorry, I guess all that practice with the clubs is paying off.”

“Looks like I’ll have to bet on you at the next tournament,” he teased.

“Is that allowed if you are my second?”

Orthul’s eyes grew wide and then he broke into a delighted smile. “I hope you are not jesting with me.”

“No jest, I was going to surprise you.”

“You succeeded!” he said happily, giving Legolas a hug, then pulling away quickly. “I’m sorry, Captain. I forgot myself.”

“Think nothing of it. When not forced to bow to protocol I am still only Legolas.”

Orthul gave him a grateful smile. “You’re one of the good ones,” he said, then hurried off, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

Legolas thought he should turn homeward as well, yet was loath to leave the square. Ithil was full and bright overhead, sailing through Elbereth’s crystalline sea. He sighed as he gazed at the stars, nearly toppling over when he heard a voice beside him.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

He took a step back to keep his balance and there was Glorfindel beside him. “How do you do that?” he asked irritably.

“Do what?”

“Never mind.” Legolas glanced at him, then quickly away. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to seek you out. I wanted to.”

“I was going to approach you earlier, but I saw you were with your friend.”

Was that a tinge of jealousy in his voice?

“He’s a friend from the armory. We haven’t had much time together lately so I invited him to dinner.”

“I know, I saw you at the Laegel ar Larma.”

“Have you been following me then?” Legolas asked with a teasing gleam in his eye.

“Perhaps,” Glorfindel admitted. “I must say it gave me pause when he hugged you. I feared you might have expanded your interests.”

Legolas took his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I have a couple of weeks off before my next patrol. Maybe we could spend some time together, get to know each other, as you said.”

“I would like that, but we must be discreet. Turgon discourages fraternization between the Lords and their men. It can lead to problems within the ranks.”

“Yet the Lords do it anyway,” Legolas said with a knowing grin.

Glorfindel chuckled self-consciously. “Indeed we do. There are only twelve of us after all.”

“I find this system odd and restrictive. It it different where I am from.”

“Mithlim, is it?”

Legolas had almost forgotten his lie, which caused him to hesitate a beat. “Yes.”

“Honest about your feelings, but not much else.” He heard the challenge in Glorfindel’s voice.

“You still distrust me?”

“You have to concede that your mysterious appearance and rise within the Tree is quite exceptional, especially for a Laegrim. And you are almost too good to be true. A forest dweller with an inferior weapon but fighting skills greater than you should have. Loyal, hard working to a fault, eyes like a cat’s in the dark your fellows say. The only survivor of a terrible attack. Your background must be fascinating.”

“There is a lot of luck in my story, and a lot of speculation in yours.”

“Easy enough to clear up,” Glorfindel offered.

Legolas turned away, grief stricken. Glorfindel could not accept him and he could not tell him his secret.

A touch upon his arm and Legolas turned despondent eyes to Glorfindel. “Then perhaps we are not meant to be.”

“Or perhaps this will tell me everything I need to know,” Glorfindel said, and kissed him.

Legolas returned it with his whole being. He rested his hands lightly upon Glorfindel’s upper arms, deepening and lengthening the kiss, trying to communicate every emotion, expressed and unexpressed, he had ever felt for him.

When they parted Glorfindel looked dazed. “Whatever you are, you are not evil,” he panted.

“No,” Legolas said breathlessly, “I am most assuredly not.”