A knock sounded on the cabin door. Legolas was surprised to find a small girl-child standing on the threshold, staring up at him with wide blue eyes. She looked about eight years of age, but then Legolas was not very practiced at guessing the age of human children.

"Strider said to tell you that you're welcome to join everyone in the main hall for dinner." The girl's voice was high and squeaky with excitement. "We've roasted pheasants tonight, and there's toasted bread with butter too. Oh, and mead!" Clearly this young one had had some hand in helping to prepare the food, judging by how she was fairly bursting with pride to tell him about dinner.

Although he was unaccustomed to such bold behavior, he decided to humor his young hostess, and with a half-smile said, "I would be honored to accept such an invite." The prince said in his best courtly tone. "May I escort you to dinner, my lady?" With a short bow, he offered out a bent arm to her.

The girl was delighted and she tugged him across the yard to the large wooden building, which served as the town's main hall, almost bouncing with every step.

What Legolas had not counted on though, was the reception they would get once they crossed over the threshold into the large building filled with loudly talking bodies and the scent of meat cooking. The folk who noticed the elf with the girl-child hanging on his arm, immediately erupted into a barrage of good-natured teasing.

"Why Gelwin, what a fine escort you've found yourself! Did you braid his hair for him before you came?"

"Isn't he a bit old for you, girl? Hopefully he's wealthy!"

The girl flushed a shade of scarlet, dropped Legolas's arm and dashed away among the crowd towards what looked like her friends. The mirth from the gathered Dúnedain fairly shook the walls, but Legolas bore it as best he could. He clearly had more to learn about human humor. Rodorin, the slightly overconfident young Ranger, from earlier in the forest, caught his eye and walked over with a smile.

"I imagine this is not like the elven courts you are used to. The laughter in New Fornost flows as easily as the mead does."

"New Fornost?" asked Legolas, curiously.

"Hah, New Fornost is just a nickname for this small village. However, we are not far from the ruins of the ancient city, known fully as Fornost Erain, the 'Northern fortress of the Kings'. It was abandoned after the war of Angmar and the fall of Arnor. I'll take you there sometime if you want to see what remains of it," he said, with very likeable amiability.

As he conversed with the young Ranger, he noticed Strider leaning against one of the large wooden pillars that supported an upper level to the hall. Legolas took his leave of Rodorin and approached Strider. Strider's keen eyes marked the elf's approach, even from across the room. By the time Legolas was within speaking distance, he was already excusing himself from the small cluster of Rangers nearby. Waving a hand toward one of the empty benches and a table, Strider indicated that they should be seated. A dark-haired woman nearly as tall as himself or any of the Dúnedain men, thrust two wooden plates of peasant breast in front them. Legolas's sharp eyes didn't miss the bowstring calluses on her fingers as she did so, or the fact that he had already noticed her at the Rangers' initial return.

"Thank you Nerwen," Strider said with a smile. She nodded brusquely whilst casting a critical eye over the elf.

As Legolas began to eat, he realized that both he and Strider had a fair few questions for one another.

"Having come from the Greenwood, you must have news of recent happenings in the East." Strider spoke conversationally, but was clearly probing with his measured words. "Word has reached us of a great battle; a battle involving five armies?" Those clear grey eyes seemed to regard Legolas with knowledge that by rights, the elf knew he could not possibly possess.

Knowing that every word he spoke would carry more weight than even he intended it to, Legolas chose his answer carefully. It would be all too easy to betray his own secrets.

"I was there, at The Battle of the Five Armies, as it has been named." He confirmed. "Thorin Oakenshield, grandson of King Thror sought to re-take Erebor, and in doing so roused the dragon Smaug from his slumber. Our people left our forest halls and ventured forth in strength of arms at the command of the king, seeking to settle an old debt owed from the hoard beneath the mountain..."

It was a long story. Legolas recounted it to Strider with as much detail as he figured the Ranger ought to know. By the time he finished his tale, concluding with the defeat of Azog and the crowning of the new dwarf king, Dain Ironfoot, Strider was sitting thoughtfully with his flagon balanced on a knee.

"These are tidings of great fate and change, and I thank you for having brought them, Legolas." Strider straightened on the bench and gave a strange half-smile. "It is not often that we receive direct word from lands as far east as the Lonely Mountain. It was only just a few weeks ago, that the ravens flew overhead calling out the news that the dragon was dead, and the winds of war blew soon afterwards. "

"And have you felt the effects of the battle this far northwest?"

Now Strider smiled in earnest. "More than one would think, my good elf. Numbers have greatly reduced in recent months, but we have started to encounter small pockets of them again. Stragglers I presume from the battle, trying to escape and regroup."

It was Legolas's turn to smile.

"That is good news. My bow grows stiff for lack of orcs to shoot!"

Strider only smiled wryly. "Rest assured, you will see more than enough orcs in these lands before the spring. Not since my father's days have we been so fortunate as to have been left in peace for more than a turn of the seasons." With this, the young Dúnedain 's gaze became slightly more careworn, giving the impression of more years than his smooth, beardless face implied.

"It is much the same in our homeland as well," said Legolas, understanding how these people must feel to see their home constantly assailed by the foul presence of evil. He decided it was appropriate to ask a question of his own. "I did not expect to find a village, I had heard the Rangers of the North were solitary figures."

"Some are. However in recent years, the orcs and wolves of the Misty Mountains have become bolder, but the Rangers were scattered and diminished," Strider said. "Out of necessity, the last remnant of the Dúnedain of Arnor decided to regroup, to better stem the tide of orcs and protect our families. Perhaps in time, the true ramifications of the Battle of The Five armies may yet be felt and some of us can return to our nomadic ways and protect the surrounding areas rather than just our own borders."

He paused in thought and hope, taking out a pipe and tapping it to empty the bowl. Pinching off a bit of leaf from a sachet at his belt, the man placed it into his pipe and set to work lighting it. A pair of young boys suddenly appeared from around the fire-pit. They were probably about six or seven, with their bright brown eyes shining like puppies.

"Strider, is it time to tell stories?"

"Yes Strider, can you tell us the story of the House of Haleth again?"

With a laugh, Strider put away his pipe and placed a hand on each of the boys' shoulders. "Are you sure, that one again? Or perhaps we could have Daernon tell the story tonight?" A chorus of vehement confirmation and refusal at the very same time was his answer, and so the Dúnedain gave in. "Very well, if you insist. Go on now, and ask your mothers to pour out another round of drinks for all!"

Excusing himself from his conversation with Legolas, Strider strode into the circle around the fire-pit to the sound of approving murmurs. Deciding to retire for the evening to his cabin, Legolas was just about to rise; when he was certain he saw the dark-haired female Ranger, who had waylaid him earlier in the day, Wren. He stared at her, noting her features now that she was uncloaked. It was as if she knew she was being watched, for she looked up and smiled broadly, directly at him. He was completely disarmed and he cast his eyes to the floor, feeling embarrassed for examining her in such way.

As Strider began to speak in a loud, clear voice, the main hall fell into an appreciative silence. For the second time that day, Legolas wondered just how it was that one so young could command the respect of this entire settlement.

A person sat down beside him without invitation. He turned to see that it was Wren, he could not help but feel annoyance at her presumption.

She began speaking to him almost immediately. "I trust you have been well looked after since you arrived," she said, with her eyes twinkling in the firelight.

He looked at her incredulously. He was baffled as to whether she was she intentionally mocking him again or just being naively polite.

He decided on the former. "I have fared much better, since you have taken a leave of absence from the welcoming party."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, elf lord, tell me you are not still bitter about being accosted? You know that I could hardly let you walk into our lands without invitation?"

This woman was infuriating. Legolas rose sharply.

"Your particular brand of hospitality is not one that I am accustomed to. I take my leave of you. Good night."

The woman appeared bemused; with her eyes still twinkling, a dip of her head and a flourish of her hand, bid him good night with a mock bow.

Legolas was stone faced, he turned and stalked angrily back to his quarters. Outside in the cold night air, the stars shone with a crisp winter beauty, and Legolas savored the rare sight as he walked back to his cabin. The elves of the Greenwood were not used to open skies, but now he understood why Tauriel would often climb above the forest canopy alone at night.

The night sky served to calm his grim mood. He looked back at the hall and realized that the reason this woman so irked him, was because she had wounded his pride. No one had ever surprised him in such way. Let alone humiliated him thereafter, by laughing at him. All this in one day, had proved too much for the elven prince who had suffered very little disrespect in his life; wretched dwarves excluded.

-0-0-0-0-0-

What did you think of the some of the characters you have just met? Is Legolas's response what you expected? I would love to receive your comments and please VOTE on this chapter if you enjoyed it. Each vote and comment help the wider circulation of my story, I really appreciate them!

Aragorn Artwork: kindly used with permission from the very talented 'the wise snail', please see her other beautiful work on https://wisesnailart.deviantart.com/

DEDICATION MiddleEarth111 : Thank you for always cheering me on, your encouragement has meant so much!