A Secret Untold: Part XII by: Thalisirwen
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It took me several minutes to reach the top of the house, where Legolas’s room was. Admittedly I was not in haste to reach him. What was I to say? And how do I say it? What was the right way to tell a friend of years that I wanted to be more than friends?

So I walked upstairs slowly, mulling over my situation, and what I should say. I decided to stop at my rooms first in order to freshen up a little. I found I had broken into a cold sweat during Arwen’s talk earlier, and didn’t want to greet Legolas in such as state, despite the fact he’d seen me in more of a mess before, after a rather bad fight with orcs. I shuddered, remembering.

Reaching the floor where Legolas’s room was, I paused in the hallway. What if he rejects me? Arwen believes he feels the same way too, but how could she know such a thing? She is wise, but not a mind reader.

I stopped outside his door and drew a deep breath. And knocked.

No answer.

Carefully opening the door I peered into the room. It was empty. Candles, still lit, sat on the table. The wardrobe doors were wide open, showing nothing but emptiness inside. I walked into the room, looking for signs of the elf prince. His cloak, his clothes; everything was gone. It was as if he’d never been here.

As I was leaving the room I noticed a piece of parchment stuck under the candlestick. Grabbing it, I unfolded the parchment and read, hoping to find some clue as to where Legolas had disappeared.

"For a simple chance at love
I risk friendship, Love's foundations.
For a moment of true happiness,
I pledge my heart and soul.
My radiant friend how I feel for thee,
And yet I hide it behind closed doors
Our time together, that I cherish..."

Legolas’s poem! But why had he left it behind? Though he may be troubled with Valrodiel, surely he would not leave such a precious thing as a poem behind?

Folding it carefully, I placed it inside my shirt and darted from the room in search of the elf.

“Have you seen Legolas?”

“Where is the Prince of Mirkwood?”

“He is missing!”

“Which way did he go?”

All those I passed had questions fired at them; I had to find him, desperate to see him, talk to him, and yes, to confess to him my true desire.

A maid said she saw Legolas leaving towards the stables, I ran there as fast as I could, grilling the stable-hand as to my friends whereabouts.

“He took his horse and left towards Mirkwood,” replied the stable hand when I enquired.

With that knowledge, I hurriedly saddled up a horse and cantered out of the stables. The gates of Rivendell opened as I approached; the gatekeeper seeing who I was, and that I was in a desperate hurry.

I galloped through the forest, murmuring to the horse to go faster, and praying to catch up with Legolas.

I rode for hours through the trees, watching and listening for any sign of the elf. I heard shouts and a muffled cry up ahead. A horse passed me, wild with fright, and I recognised it instantly – this was Legolas’s horse! Dashing around a bend a terrible sight came to my eyes. Orcs. And they had Legolas.


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