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You stood in the shadows and watched with eyes that picked up every detail of the scene before you. Dwarves approached the house on which Gandalf had placed the mark. As usual, your clothes were dark to help you hide. You kept your hood over your head and a mask over the lower half of your face. Gandalf had recruited you to join the dwarves on a quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain.
It sounded like a horrible idea if you were honest, but Gandalf had done you a kindness once, expecting nothing in return. This was a way for you to repay the debt. The wizard instructed you to keep your identity hidden as these dwarves in particular had an extreme dislike of elves. It wasn’t a hardship, you would have kept it hidden anyway. Not that there was much to tell. You knew your name and that you were an elf. That was all. The last sixty years had been spent roaming Middle Earth trying to remember who you were. Everything before then was a void. Your true name was a secret known only to yourself.
Making your way to the hobbit hole, you knocked lightly on the door.
“No more dwarves,” a hobbit with curly hair said as he answered. His eyes widened as he took you in. “You are not a dwarf.”
“Indeed, I am not, master hobbit. I am here at the request of the wizard.”
“You and everyone else,” he muttered as he stepped aside to allow you entry.
You nodded your thanks and ducked inside. The dwarves were loud and rowdy and you found yourself a quiet space at the edge of the room. Gandalf’s gaze found you, but everyone else seemed oblivious to your presence. Another knock sounded at the door. When the dwarf responsible walked in, the room went silent.
Thorin Oakenshield. The name came to you before anyone said it. You knew this dwarf, but how? That knowledge still evaded you. You tore your gaze from the new arrival to find Gandalf watching you intently. What was he up to this time? Meddling wizard.
You listened as they discussed the quest and Gandalf told the king that yourself and the hobbit would accompany them. The dwarf was not happy about with that news in the slightest. His eyes narrowed at you in suspicion. “You say the hobbit is a burglar, but who is she that her presence will assist us in our task?”
“I am Shade,” you answered. Once again, the room went silent as all eyes locked on you.
“But…you’re a woman,” the one named Kili pointed out.
“Astute observation, dwarf,” you said, smiling beneath your mask.
“She goes,” Thorin decreed. Apparently, your reputation preceded you.
***
Every day in the Company’s presence, you remembered a little more of your past. Just snippets really, but you felt the whole of your memory hovering just out of your reach. Then came the day that the dwarves were sharing stories about the dragon and what their home was like before they lost it. Memories flooded you and stole your breath. You clenched your teeth to keep from gasping out loud.
Increasing your speed, you moved up beside Thorin. “I need to speak with the wizard. I’ll return,” you told him. You weren’t asking permission, but he would need to send someone else to watch the rear of the line.
Thorin studied you for a moment before nodding once. “Dwalin, take up the rear.”
You veered off from the rest of the group and went in the direction you’d last seen Gandalf. He rarely traveled with the Company, instead moving ahead or to the side scouting for danger or better pathways. At least that’s what you assumed he was doing, you’d never bothered to ask.
It didn’t take you long to track him. He was quite a distance ahead of the dwarves. He sat on a boulder near the river, smoking his pipe.
“How long have you known?”
“Known what?” he asked after a pause, his eyes twinkling.
You dropped your mask and threw back your hood.
His smile widened and he bowed his head. “Your majesty.”
“How long?” you bit out with narrowed eyes.
He pursed his lips around the pipe. “I suspected. I didn’t know. They are two very different things.” When you continued to stare at him without saying anything, he sighed. “Since the last time we met. Some of your mannerisms reminded me of the queen.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me? Or Thranduil?”
His gaze turned sad. “Your loss devastated the kingdom. Thranduil was heartbroken as was Legolas. You were his mother despite not giving birth to him. I had to be certain. Imagine if I was mistaken, if it was a deception of some sort. The damage could have been infinitely worse.”
You replaced your mask and hood. “Send word to no one. We travel through Mirkwood. It is better if I deliver the news in person.”
***
The closer the Company got toward Mirkwood, the more anxious you became though you did your best to hide it from the others. You blamed the distraction of your mind for not noticing the spiders closing in sooner. The Company killed the beasts or dodged out of the way when necessary. You fought with your twin daggers, hesitating only briefly when the elves appeared.
“Lower your weapons,” a voice demanded as the last of the beasts was slain. You slid your daggers into the sheath on your back and turned to see Legolas, bow in hand. Your chest grew tight and you clenched your teeth to keep tears from welling up.
Your eyes remained trained on him as he approached, looking you over. “Who are you?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
“They call me Shade,” you answered, emotion making your voice deeper than normal. He reached a hand toward the hilt of your dagger and you grabbed his wrist to halt the movement. “I thought the last time you pricked your finger would have taught you not to touch my daggers, little leaf.”
His gaze darted up to meet yours and his brow furrowed as he tilted his head. “It can’t be.” His voice was little more than a whisper.
You ran your thumb over the skin of his wrist. “Ionneg.” Hot tears ran down your face before you could even think about stopping them. (son)
His eyes grew wide. “We must get you to ada immediately.” He grasped your hand tightly in his and moved through the clearing. “Tauriel, bring them. I will move ahead with this one.” (dad)
If there was a response neither of you heard it. You ran through the forest, him never releasing your hand. Once you were well out of sight of the others, you stopped and Legolas turned to face you. You revealed yourself and his gaze ran over your face. Suddenly, he pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. “I’ve missed you so much, nana. We thought you dead. Where have you been all this time?” (mom)
You hugged him back just as tightly. “Legolas, my heart, I was injured helping the dwarves and lost all memories of my life before. I only recalled you both a short time ago. Please forgive me.”
He leaned back, grasping your shoulders in his hands. “There is nothing to forgive. You are home now. That is all that matters. Come.” He grabbed your hand again and led you toward the palace and his father.
As you approached the gate, you put your hood and mask back on, not wanting word to somehow reach Thranduil before you. Your step-son pulled you through the gates, through the halls of the palace, and into the throne room. Thranduil sat on his throne, looking exactly as he had the last time you’d seen him. Your hands trembled as your chest grew tight. You realized now you’d missed him even when you hadn’t remembered him. He was part of you. You bit your lip to keep from crying out.
“Who is this Legolas brings before me?” your husband asked, his voice colder than you remembered.
Legolas squeezed your hand before releasing it and stepping back. With trembling fingers, you lowered the mask and pushed the hood back one more time. Your watery gaze met that of the king as he stood abruptly from his throne. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards in the room. He moved down the steps until he stood directly in front of you. His hand grasped your chin and tilted your head back. “Iston i nif gin.” (I know your face.)
Your rested one of your hands on his. “My love.”
“My stars,” he breathed. A single tear rolled down his cheek. “You have returned to me.”
You wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to you to press your lips to his. “I am home, my king.”
He pulled you tightly against his chest and pressed kisses to the top of your head. You were content to simply be held in his warmth, feeling whole for the first time in sixty years.
"A company of dwarves has been brought to the palace, my lord," a voice said from the doorway. "They claim to be led by Thorin Oakenshield."
You cringed as Thranduil went still in your grip. “About that…”