'Teithoron?'
Startled, the scribe looked up from his writing. Legelion lay sprawled on his belly upon the thick soft carpet of his chamber, a large book open before him; so silently had the boy been reading this past hour that Teithoron Tegilbor had quite forgotten he was there.
'Yes, child?' he enquired.
'How many Elven-folk dwell here in the Woodland Realm?' his young charge asked.
'Many tens of thousands, I would guess,' he replied. 'There are some three thousand fighting warriors in the army of the Elvenking, but alas, I know not the whole number of the Tawarwaith.'
'And in all of Mirkwood?'
The scribe laughed gently. 'To that question, I cannot even make a guess! For not all our folk followed King Oropher northwards from Amon Lanc, nor Thranduil his son when he retreated hither to flee the evil of Dol Guldur; and there are yet Avari who dwell apart in secrecy. Wherefore ask you this?'
Abashed, Legelion's face flushed pink beneath his sun-bronzed skin. 'I... I wondered only if there were perhaps other elf-children... others like me.'
'Ah,' Teithoron nodded in understanding, 'Though now in this latter day our numbers in Middle-earth have dwindled, I deem there might well be.' The boy smiled gratefully, and the elder Elf rose gracefully from his chair and strode swiftly across the room to sit beside him on the carpet.
'I know that the Green-elves of the Woodland Realm, your kin, choose not to beget children in these after-days in which the Shadow of the East grows ever longer across the Hither Lands; that it is their desire to complete the Great Journey long forsaken, and thus they deem it unwise to bring forth children ere they pass over the Sea into the Undying Lands.'
Reaching forward he tucked a wayward strand of long, dark hair behind the boy's ear. 'And though it has been a long count of years since I myself was a child, I well remember the warm fellowship of playmates my own age... it greatly saddens me that you are bereft of such friendship.'
His young friend rose to kneel upon his haunches, his small face forlorn. Distress showed plainly in his eyes, but he listened keenly.
'I know also that your very name -- Methlegel, "the Last Green-elf" -- greatly troubles you, for it recalls this doom that your kin have laid upon you, and therefore in its stead you choose to be known by the unseemly byname given to you by the folk of Thranduil's court.'
'Your words are indeed on the mark,' nodded Legelion gloomily, 'but my kin deems also that we should marry only within our Laegren kindred; thus shall I remain unwed while we yet linger in Middle-earth, even if, by happy chance, I should come upon others of my age.'[1]
'Alas, I have no words to ease your lonely heart,' replied Teithoron kindly. 'Among the Eldar, even in the Blessed Realm, the desire for marriage is not always fulfilled.'
'That is ill news indeed,' exclaimed the boy, 'for I would give my heart's love to another, and share with her my joy of living, and together beget sons or daughters of our own!'
'Patience, young one.' The scribe laid a reassuring hand on the child's shoulder. 'You have seen but sixteen summers since the day you were born, and you yet linger in the first spring of childhood. Not until your fiftieth year will you be of age to wed.' His eyes twinkled mischievously. 'And for some a hundred years may pass before they are full-grown.'
Legelion groaned. 'That does not bring me comfort!' But then smiling, he added, 'But I think I see your counsel.'
Teithoron smiled in return. 'Indeed. In the years that are yet to come, much unlooked-for may come to pass... let hope endure within your heart.'
* * *
The summer sun shone through the forest canopy, its golden light cast green shadows upon a bend in the Forest River where the course of its swift-flowing was slowed to form a large pool of still water, upon which a small wooden boat was moored with a slender elven rope. In the soft lapping of the small waves upon its hull could be heard the music of Ulmo, and amidst the leaves of the silver birches the sweet songs of Manwë whispered in the gentle breeze. The world's breath blew also upon the Green-elf child who lay naked upon the smooth floor of the boat, still dripping wet from swimming in the icy waters; but he paid no heed to the cool forest airs that caressed his bare skin. For Legelion this was bliss; in his young veins flowed the blood of the Teleri of old, for whom water had ever held great delight since the Awakening of the Penedh in Nen Echui.[2] But it would be better had he someone with whom to share his joy.
His thought was bent on the words of Teithoron, his friend and mentor, whose counsel had not once failed him in the years of their friendship. Aye, it may be a short time by the reckoning of Elves, but in one so young, four years was a whole fourth of his lifetime! But, he wondered, would he attain the stature and shape of a full-grown Elf when he was fifty years of age, or was he one whose body grew but slowly. Bereft of the company of other children with whom he could compare himself, he knew not if the pace of his growth was common for his kin.
Indeed, Amdirren his mother had told him that his lost brother, Amdiran, had grown more swiftly, but she said that this was due to his fae being that of a warrior, and the spirit of an Elf was the master of his body. Legelion shifted uncomfortably within his boat; could this mean his fae was marred? And would he know if it were? Nay, he reasoned, his mother had sensed in him -- in his inborn spirit, his fae -- the makings of a healer; thus would she have perceived also if aught was amiss. He smiled to himself: if he was indeed slow to fully bloom then it must surely be the will of his unsullied spirit and thus be with good reason, though it be beyond his ken. After all, even the broad and mighty oak sprang from a small and slender sapling!
And what of his friend's romantic counsel? Legelion knew his fate could not be foreseen by any amongst the Elves of Mirkwood, not even his mother's foresight held that power... but Legolas had spoken once of an Elven Lord whose skill was renowned throughout the West. Elrond Peredhel, he named him, who ruled in the refuge of Imladris; but the First Homely House[3] lay many leagues westwards over the Hithaeglir. Legelion shook his head clear of such thought, for little did it avail him; 'let hope endure within your heart', Teithoron had said, and by this he would abide.
A grin spread across his face. The Tawarwaith were not hindered by the unjust customs of the Laegrim, and the uncounted folk of Mirkwood were many and diverse, and they dwelt scattered throughout the greenwoods; thus there must be -- as Teithoron guessed -- some Elf-children amongst their numbers. And what of the Elven-folk that yet lingered in other lands of the western world? Last of the Green-elves he may be, but not last of all the Elves. Thereupon a gleam came suddenly to his eyes... perhaps there were even now other remnants of the Laegil of Ossiriand who had not removed hither after Beleriand came to ruin... perhaps he was not the last!
Thus was there no cause for despair. Lying there upon the sun-warmed wood, he watched the golden rays of Anor shining between the toes of his small feet that rested upon the grey gunwale. Nay, his lonely heart might lie heavy within his breast, as heavy as the stone that lay beneath the waters mooring his boat, but henceforth he would ride upon the tides of fate as lightly as his boat rode upon the waves! Leaping up, he let loose a wild and joyous cry as he sprang gleefully into the icy depths of the river-waters.
Delight in the present, he thought, far surpassed any disquiet that he felt within his heart for days unknown yet to come.
* * *
[1] "Marriage, save for rare ill chances or strange fates, was the natural course of life for all the Eldar."
- Morgoth's Ring, 'Laws and Customs among the Eldar'
[2] "Now the Quendi loved all of Arda that they had yet seen, and green things that grew and the sun of summer were their delight; but nonetheless they were ever moved most in heart by the Stars, and the hours of twilight in clear weather, at 'morrowdim' and at 'even-dim', were the times of their greatest joy. For in those hours in the spring of the year they had first awakened to life in Arda. But the Lindar, above all the other Quendi, from their beginning were most in love with water, and sang before they could speak."
- The War of the Jewels, 'Quendi and Eldar: Appendix: The legend of the Awaking of the Quendi (Cuivienyarn)'
[3] "Because of its location, it was called "The Last Homely House East of the Sea" from the point of view of a traveller going to the Misty Mountains and Wilderland; and also the First Homely House from the point of view of someone coming from these lands to the civilised lands of Eriador to the west."
- Tolkien Gateway, 'Rivendell'
It should be noted that this tale is set in the 2981st year of the Third Age, when Legelion was but sixteen years of age; also that these anecdotes are not in strict chronological order.
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