The Dream of Legolas Greenleaf by clotho123

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The Dream of Legolas Greenleaf

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Once there was a young elven prince named Legolas Greenleaf, who was sent by his father King Thranduil with a message to Thror, the king of Erebor.  This story is not about that message, so what it said does not matter. 

Legolas Greenleaf broke his journey at the Long Lake, where the Master of Esgaroth would have received him with honour, but the boatmen, who dwelt on the shore, were holding a festival and called merrily to the young prince and his companions to join them.  Then Legolas drank deeply of a draught of the boatmen, which they said was made mainly from apples, and after a while he felt too weary to go and call on the Master that night, so he went into one of the boatmen’s huts to ask shelter but there was no-one there.  There was a yellow ox skin on the floor that looked inviting, so Legolas lay down on it and went to sleep, and in that sleep he had a dream.

In his dream he rode up the River Running to the ford, and an elf on a tall roan horse rode up behind him.  The elf himself was much taller than Legolas, he had black hair, pale features and very piercing eyes.

“Greetings, stranger,” he said.  “You will be going to the gathering.”

“What gathering?” said Legolas, “Are you going to introduce yourself.  Err, Greetings.”  (Prince Legolas normally had more polished manners, but he was feeling rather morning after.)

“Why, the great gathering of High King Fingolfin,” said the elf.  “As to my name, it is Maeglin, and I am the nephew of Turgon, king of Gondolin.  My family were rather annoyed with me for telling Morgoth Gondolin’s whereabouts, and they told me to go away and think about it for seven years.  Well, I have spent seven years thinking, so now I am on my way back to them, and not before time, because we are all gathering together for the Dagor Aglareb.”

Legolas, who was not completely ignorant of First Age History, knew that the Dagor Aglareb had happened long before the Fall of Gondolin, but before he could point this out he saw a great plain before them, and many bright tents upon it and many banners flying, and two elves on horseback riding up from the camp towards them with their cloaks flying behind in their speed.  One of the elves wore a gold circlet and his dark hair had gold braid plated into it.  The other elf had golden hair, he wore a mithril crown in the likeness of two serpents and a most marvellous necklace which would have turned Legolas’s father a rather unattractive shade of envious green if he had seen it.

“Hello Maeglin,” said the golden-haired Elf.  “Who’s this squirt?”

“This is Legolas Thranduilion of the Greenwood,” said Maeglin.  To Legolas he said,” this is Finrod Felagund, the King of Nargothrond who is famous for his courtesy, and the other with him is Fingon the Valiant, Prince of Hithlum.”

“What a very depressing thought, Fingon,” said Finrod, “the future of the Eldar in Middle-earth will fall to people so stunted.”

“All the same,” said Fingon, “he is our guest, so we ought to take him up to camp and offer him a drink.”  This sounded like a good idea to Legolas.

So then they rode to the plain and right into the centre of the camp, through the tents and the banners and the hosts of warriors.  At the edge of the camp’s centre they passed a dark-haired elf  who was playing a golden harp and singing a song that Legolas did not understand.  Legolas, although he could not speak Quenya, knew the sound of the language and could tell this was not Quenya, so he asked his companions about it.

“Maglor claims it’s the ancient language of the original elves,” said Fingon.  “He says he has reconstructed it by studying existing elvish languages.  I’ve always thought he just likes having nobody understand what he’s singing.”  

In the very centre of the camp Legolas saw a table with a great embroidered cloth upon it that had an apple of gold hanging at each corner.  On the cloth was a gaming board of ivory and the pieces on the board were carved from gold and mithril.  At the table two elves were seated on gilded chairs, facing each other across the gaming board.  The elf on the right had black hair and he wore silver mail with a crystal belt and a mithril crown with a great white gem that shone like a star above his brow.  The elf on the left had hair that was russet like leaves in autumn, his right hand was missing and the right forearm was covered in a marvellous sheath of worked copper and he wore a copper circlet of the same workmanship upon his head.  They were playing against each other with the gold and mithril pieces.

As Legolas watched he saw two elf lords come up from the east side of the camp and one had hair that was tawny-fair, a hunting horn hung at his side and a great hound walked beside him.  The hair of the other was raven dark, his belt buckle and cloak brooch were of most marvellous workmanship, and a dark haired stripling was at his side.

“Lord and brother,” said the fair-haired elf to one wearing the copper circlet that sat playing chess. “The men of the High King are provoking your ravens.”

“That’s rather impolite, uncle” said the elf with the copper circlet. 

“I believe it’s your move,” said the other.

Soon after another elf lord came up, and this one had dark brown hair and eyes, and ruddy cheeks.  He wore a jewelled belt and necklet. 

“Lord and brother,” he said, “the men of the High King are fighting with your ravens,”

“Inconvenient, if we are going to fight tomorrow,” said the elf with the copper circlet.  “Why don’t you call your men off, uncle.”

“We haven’t finished the game,” said the High King.  (Legolas had worked out that is who he must be.)

So they played on, and two more elf lords came up.  They were the same height and most alike in face, but one had hair the same russet as the elf with the copper circlet, and the hair of the other was darker, more brown than red. 

“Lord and brother,” said the darker of the two, “Several of your ravens have lost feathers.”

“Are you going to call your men off, uncle,” said the elf who was addressed.

“Keep playing, by all means,” said the High King.

“Very well,” said the elf with the copper circlet, and he turned to the two elf-lords and said, “Raise the standard.”  Then he turned back to the board and made a move.

(Legolas was getting quite bored by now, and quite irritated that no-one had offered him a drink yet.)

So the game continued until an elf lord came up from the west of the camp.  He had black hair and was very tall, and he wore a great silver helmet and a sword with a gold hilt and ivory sheath, and beside him there was a young girl with hair of gold. 

“Lord and Father,” he said.  “The ravens of Lord Maedhros are fighting with your men.”

“Did you hear that, nephew?” said the High King.

“It’s your move,” said the other elf.

Then there came up two elves who had golden hair, the taller of the two was very broad of shoulder and there was a young elf boy with him, also golden haired, and the hair of the other elf stood up like golden flames.

“Lord and Uncle,” said the taller elf, “The ravens of Lord Maedhros are attacking your men.”

“I’d rather you called them off,” said the High King.

“Let us continue the game,” said Lord Maedhros.

They played on, (Legolas was very bored indeed by now).  Then at last there came up two elf ladies clad in white gowns trimmed with silver.  One had hair of mingled gold and silver, and the other hair that was dark as the night sky, and Legolas forgot he was thirsty for the moment for they were very beautiful.

“Lord and Father,” said the dark-haired woman, “several of your men have been pecked.”

“Really, all these interruptions,” said the High King, “We shall never finish the game.”  And he took one gold piece and one silver piece in his hand and crushed them both to dust.

“Well,” said Prince Fingon, “That probably means it’s time for dinner.”

Just then an embassy of Balrogs came up and said Morgoth had gone to bed with a sick headache and the Dagor Aglareb had been postponed until the next day.  The High King asked them if they would stay for a drink, and they said they didn’t mind if they did.  Legolas was finally handed a goblet, which he drained in one draught.  It burned his throat like fire….

Then he was waking on the ox skin in the boatmen’s hut in the pale light of early dawn.  And whether he was any wiser for the dream this story does not tell, but he never drank the apple drink of the boatmen again. 

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Chapter End Notes

In The Dream of Rhonabwy the game players are King Arthur and his nephew Owain, son of Urien, who becomes Sir Yvain in later romances. 

If you are trying to work out who is who here it may help to know I write Orodreth as Angrod’s son.