No Place That Far
by Tathren

"Pardon, son of Thranduil. May I have a moment?"

Lake-blue eyes looked round to meet their mirror in emerald green. At Legolas's back, the last of the Fellowship's provisions were being loaded into the boats; Aragorn and Celeborn were speaking in hushed tones; the company was all but ready to depart.

Too soon there would once more be cause for wariness and mistrust, but for now they were still in elven lands. Legolas felt at ease here, more so even than in his own homeland. He had spent what time he could alone among the Galadhrim during their too-brief sojourn here. He had befriended many of the elves in that time, and they had helped him rediscover a hope within his fëa which he'd thought he'd lost when Gandalf fell. But the one who spoke to him now, he'd met only briefly, and that on the day they'd first entered the woods.

He was the younger of Haldir's two brothers, Rumil. And while Legolas remembered him, he remembered too that he'd spoken barely a word in the presence of the company even then, and the Mirkwood elf thought he'd never spoken directly to him. In fact, he realized suddenly, this was perhaps the first time he'd ever heard this elf's voice at all.

Why Rumil should seek him out now, at the hour of their departure, Legolas could not imagine, but he stepped away from the others so that they might speak privately nonetheless.

"I have heard rumor that your company heads towards the plains of Rohan," Rumil began trying to disguise his hesitancy beneath a veneer of self-assurance.

"Little is certain. We have decided only to travel down the Great River as far as the falls of Rauros. But beyond there I cannot say." Privately, Legolas thought that their chances of passing through Rohan were slim, but he knew that decision was yet before them, and his wonder at this strange encounter was growing by the second. "Why do you ask?"

"I would beg a favor of you, if your path should take you there."

Legolas had the good breeding to hide his surprise, "If it is in my power, I will see it done. Tell me." -Tell me what deed an elf of the Golden Wood could wish done in the land of the Horse Lords.-

Rumil averted his eyes, but not before Legolas could see the trepidation there. The young elf's gaze was fixed on his hand, his palm closed concealing something within that Legolas could not discern. Nor could he have known the fear in Rumil's heart, the cause for his held breath: what he held was a secret, enclosed there in his palm, and if he was wrong—if it was not a secret that Legolas too shared...

Frivolous trysts and discreet encounters were one thing, but few elves looked kindly on making a life's bond with a mortal. Especially for a male elf and a mortal man.

Legolas had been very discreet, but Rumil thought...or maybe it was only because he so dearly hoped... But now that he'd come to this final moment of truth, he began to wonder if he'd only imagined he'd seen it at all.

"If your path should cross with a man named Éomer's..." Rumil forced himself to continue, fighting down the quavering in his voice; he had said too much to turn back now. Still, he stared at his palm as though he could hide himself away there like he hid the token secreted within. "He is sister-son to the king, the Third Marshall of the Riddermark.

"If..." with a deep breath, a leap of faith, he opened his palm. "If you should see him," Rumil dropped the little ornament into Legolas's hand. It was a simple ring of silver etched with a band of emerald leaves. "Tell him..." But there was no need to say. Any elf would understand what such a gift meant.

Legolas lifted the ring by its simple leather band, letting it rest in the cup of his palm, shielded from prying eyes. When he looked up at Rumil again he knew they were seeing each other for the first time. "You have my word," he answered, and his tone left no mistaking—he knew what he'd just been entrusted with, and he did not take the charge lightly. "If any chance or luck shall let me meet this man, he shall have it. And he shall know."

The smile they shared was resplendent with knowledge and solidarity.

Their hands clasped each others shoulders in farewell before they turned away. "Namárïë, Rumil."

"Namárïë, Legolas Thranduilion. Hannon lle."

Turning back to his comrades, Legolas met one questioning gaze in a moment that lingered outside of time. There was a glint in his eye and a flash of that secret tranquil smile that he shared with his beloved alone. And then he drew his eyes away from the Gondorian and turned to help the others into their boats.

Fin

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