Never Realizing

Chapter 10 : A Short Story

“Spying, my love?” Legolas whispered into Fanya’s ear. Fanya, who was crouched behind some bushes and wearing Legolas’ Lothlórien cloak (it smelled of him; her own cloak was neatly folded in a drawer at home), gave Legolas a scornful glance.

“I am not spying. I am collecting knowledge,” she whispered firmly.

“You are spying, beloved wife, on our younger son,” Legolas whispered in her ear. He kissed the tip of her ear and smiled when she nearly overbalanced and had to grab at his leg to keep steady.

“That was cruel.” She stood and faced Legolas. “Go and speak with him.”

“So I am to spy now?” Legolas asked with a smirk.

“No, because it is not spying when they know you are watching. Now go.” Fanya pushed Legolas out from the cover of the trees and Legolas strolled across the pitch to where his son stood. Elfaer shot and hit the target straight on. Legolas beamed, he couldn’t help but be proud that his own son was so proficient.

“Good morning, son,” Legolas said as he strolled across the grass. Elfaer looked around and nodded, before returning to shoot again. Legolas stood by Elfaer while he went through the quiver. Elfaer went and retrieved the arrows, and when he returned he handed the bow to his father. “You shoot.”

Legolas shot. While he did, he observed Elfaer, and the expressions passing over his face. He knew his son well – he had raised him – and he could read in his expression and posture that something was deeply wrong. Elfaer was troubled, and Legolas wanted to help him. Even with his shoddy concentration, Legolas was the expert shot. When he moved to retrieve the arrows, he said, “How are you, son?” and knowing that it was a lame statement, he added, “Your mother is worried about you.”

Elfaer thought for a moment, seemingly sizing up his father and whether or not he was trustworthy of information. Evidently, he decided he was, because as Legolas returned he started to speak.

“I think I have fallen in love, but fear I will never receive it in return,” he said simply. He had never been one to dance around a subject. He angled his body away from his father and gripped his bow. Legolas stood to his side, saying nothing, waiting patiently. Elfaer heaved a sigh and his body relaxed. “It is Tathen.”

Something in Legolas’ brain clicked. “Tathen, who is currently involved with Alagos?”

“Tathen, who is currently involved with Alagos…” Elfaer repeated with a disheartened shrug.

“Alright, son,” Legolas said with a small smile. “I have a story to tell you.”

Elfaer eyed his father warily, but consented to listen. Legolas leaned against a post and began his story.

“There was once an elf who fell in love with another who could not stand his presence. He followed her across the world trying to convince her of his love, and with a great deal of persistence, he managed to convince her that his love was true. With time and a persistent kind of love from the elf, her hatred for him waned and together they began a new cycle of love. They were married and still are today, have three wonderful children who are grown and who sometimes have troubles of their own that they sort out by stealing away to the archery range in the early hours of the morning.” Legolas’ smile was wide as Elfaer followed his story.

“…Mother hated you?” he asked, disbelief written clear on his face. He knew how in love his parents were with each other. Even if it were sometimes a bit more graphic than he would wish.

“Yes, your mother hated me. It was short-lived, though. She obviously could not resist my charming demeanor and strikingly good looks,” Legolas said with a chuckle, grooming his neck proudly.

“I doubt that,” Elfaer said with cheek.

Legolas laughed. “You have nothing to worry about, Elfaer. If you love her, then you need to fight for her – it is as simple as that.”

“But what if she refuses?” Elfaer asked. His hesitation was clearly voicing a deep-running fear of his.

“Then she is not meant for you. You have nothing to lose,” Legolas encouraged. Elfaer nodded. Legolas stared at his son, who was so similar to him in so many ways, and felt a surge of pride for his strong, silent offspring. After a few moments of silence, Elfaer said, “Thank you, Father,” and left the pitch, carrying his bow with him.

Legolas had to wait all of a minute before his wife emerged from the cover of the forest. “I did well, did I not?”

“Mediocre, at best,” Fanya teased.

“You are an insufferable snoop, my darling,” Legolas replied with a cheeky grin. Fanya sashayed up to him and wound her arms up around his neck to draw him in for a kiss.

“I am not,” she replied coyly.

“You win, for the moment. Now…” Legolas said, drawing her further into him and saying softly, “About that baby…”