10

The temptation to run without looking back was immense. Leagues upon leagues of luscious forest lay in every direction conceivable, decorated with sky high trees of too many different names to know, plant life and flowers of all shapes, size and shade; wild animals, birds, mountains and rivers and deep woodland pools beneath tall waterfalls that shimmered like crystal prisms in the light of day or dancing stars in the dark hours. All of this natural beauty, untouched by the eternally marring hand of urbanisation, ran for hundreds of miles, pure and clean and a refreshing rush of air after long weeks of waiting. It was a healing balm that needed no ingestion. Yes, the Elves who had set out from the breathtakingly different kingdom of Lindon a whole lifetime ago had finally arrived in Greenwood the Great; tears had existed in more than one pair of eyes with their first glimpse of the verdant vastness – tears of overwhelming awe, tears of relief, tears of regret for those who had not made it that far, but more than all else, tears of unadulterated joy.

Stepping over the threshold of the forest a little more than an hour back had brought to the immortals a sudden realisation that their freedom knew no bounds. They saw with stunning clarity, as though their eyes had only just widened, the unacceptable oppression and prejudice that they as a people had suffered in their forsaken home; but this gave them no grief. Instead they wore smiles, and some laughed at the simple ability to do so without receiving a condescending sneer for their trouble. Yet in spite of their blissful happiness, they knew to walk amongst the imposing trees in near silence, conversing only when they had to and using unspoken words if a simple nod or glance could convey their thoughts. For the time being they were strangers in a foreign place, no matter how much it felt like home, and they had the sense and decency to respect that fact for as long as they had to.

Walking with his friends just a short distance from their respective guardians, Thranduil drew his gaze from the green surroundings to glance first left, then right. Veassen's face was yet flushed with anticipation, but Linwë... He raised one hand to touch the other child's arm. "What is it?" he whispered. "You have not been yourself for a long time. Are you still morose about leaving the horses? You know the boats could not have carried them all."

"I know, and I am past that moment of sadness," Linwë replied in a murmur. "It is nothing."

"If you say so," Thranduil concurred.

"I do."

"Very well, then."

"But if you want to know..." Electing to ignore the silent glances passed between his friends, Linwë began his explanation with a long sigh. "I just... Since we left Lothlórien and arrived here, I have been thinking."

"Without wishing to offend you, your thoughts have a habit of landing either yourself or others into trouble," Veassen said quietly. He raised one hand and began ticking off the evidence on his fingers. "That time you pulled out Thranduil's tooth – yes, he told me of it –, the fights you tried to start when you and he were not speaking, your incident on the ice, dragging us to Galadriel's glade-

"There was no dragging involved, and you two were no less keen to go there. And it may surprise you to hear that this bout of thinking will not land anyone in hot water." Linwë hesitated, taking his moment of pause to look around and lower his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that only his companions could hear. "What if we are not welcome here?"

"Why would we not be?" Veassen asked, wariness touching his voice.

"Think on it. We have been in this forest for past an hour now, and the only life we have seen is in animal form. We know there are Wood-elves, and since they have not come out to greet us or warn us away from their home, they must be watching," Linwë explained. "The fact that they have left it so long worries me. I do not take it as a good sign. What do you think?"

As two pairs of questioning eyes turned upon him, Thranduil spread his hands slightly. "I cannot agree this time. I think that you are looking for trouble where there is none; it's the end of the journey so you expect one last thing to go wrong. Why would it? It has taken us long weeks to get here, and along the way we have all been through much; some more than others, but that makes no difference. We have lost friends and family, we have battled against everything imaginable – weather, enemies, our own emotions and dilemmas – but we came through. We came through it all. That gives us the right to be happy. We deserve that. I know the Valar have tested us, but we have not failed them. Now they will not fail to reward us."

"That told me," Linwë conceded with a rueful smile. "I would argue, but none of my words could stand a chance against what you just said."

"It was beautiful and very right," Veassen agreed softly. "You halted all of my fears."

The admiring glances sent his way went pointedly ignored by Thranduil, and he tried to cease his companions' comments from ringing in his ears. He had spoken nothing but the truth, and he did not want or deserve praise for telling the other immortal boys something that was already, without any shadow of a doubt, certain. Their journey was over. They had started a new chapter of their individual stories upon reaching the eaves of the forest, and the pages would only flip forwards, not back. He believed with all of his young heart that nothing but happiness awaited his friends and family in Greenwood the Great. He had faith in that.

The small company of travellers walked on beneath the interlacing branches and brilliantly green leaves of their new home, and the next passing moments seemed to eclipse by in a flash so swift that none knew what had happened until their minds caught up with what their startled eyes were seeing. For surrounding them on all sides, where before there had been nothing but air, was a larger group of Elves than their own in simple tunics, leggings and soft shoes of woodland hues. The warriors instinctively raised their weapons, ready in a second to defend the unarmed women and children, before Oropher called a command to halt, laying his own blades and bow upon the soft forest floor as a silent signal of peace.

Nothing happened for nigh on a minute. The Sindarin people stood together in a tight circle, accepting the scrutiny in stoic quiescence and simply waiting for judgement to be passed. Eyes of polished jade green and unending tunnels of hazelnut brown regarded them from beautifully aloof faces belonging to male and female alike, and still no words were exchanged as long fingers tapped against spear heads. One of the Elflings shifted uncomfortably, studying the rustic weaponry and deceptively strong wielders with a fearful glance, yet still all remained unmoving and deathly silent. Until... Out of the Silvan folk stepped a russet haired Wood-elf, his long locks tied out of his face with a simple rope cord. Balanced in his hands was one of the slender lances clearly favoured by his woodland kin, and he held it in a ready position, his stance that of a fighter and hunter, before leaning down to lay it carefully upon the floor. When he straightened from his contribution to the peace offering, a warm smile was ready upon his fair face.

"Welcome to Greenwood, friends."

THE END

Well, here we are at the end of the first story in my series. I will be continuing it; I am writing the second instalment at the moment, which will be posted as soon as I have enough done. I don't intend on it being as long as this one – although this was by no means huge – but the third story in the series is going to be a long and angst-ridden piece. Yes, I know you all enjoy the angst as much as I do. There's just something so lovely about tortured Elves. Hmm, maybe I should contact my therapist. No, in all seriousness, I don't want to be away from posting for as long as I have been in the past. If you can just give me a month or so to prepare something and get it up to the standard I want, that would be great.

Thank you very much to everybody who has read this story, whether you are constant reviewers, occasional reviewers or lurkers. The fact that you take the time to read my humble writing means a lot, and I hope to see you again when I post my next story. Goodbye for now, and it shouldn't be too long before I am back again.

Misto

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