With a secret mission to marry an elf, Wynne must join Legolas' and Elvenking Thranduil's new quest as a horsekeeper. She begins an adventurous journey, encountering orcs and monsters, friendly uruk-hai, a lady dwarf and many Fellowship heroes - but...
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~ Wynne prepares to leave but wants Legolas' to know why it has to be that way. ~
60. Writing a Letter
When she was alone, Wynne felt numb. She would miss Thranduil too. In the rare occasions he had shown his real self, he had seemed more like a parent to her than her mother and father had ever done. But now she would lose both him, her family and her lover, all in one go.
She wished she could at least say goodbye to Legolas. To leave him without notice was such a cruel thing to do, but she knew he would stop her if she went to him first. He would say that he didn't mind giving up his life – she knew him well enough by now to know as much. But that was wrong, and she couldn't allow it. The lives of him and his father were at stake and it was evident that kind of death was horrible. Wasting away... one's soul dying. She shuddered.
No, Thranduil was right. She liked Éowyn despite being slightly jealous of her. It would be a good home to live in. Perhaps later she could get a job as a stablehand or something, or maybe move to Sidra in the orc town. She could survive without Legolas and he would survive without her too. He still had his father, and his friends Gimli and Aragorn, and he would be busy doing whatever princes do.
But maybe she should at least write him a letter and explain. Yes, that was a better option than just disappearing.
She found a small piece of parchment and a quill on the table beside the chair and sat down to write. How would she begin? How do you convey in just a few words that you have to leave someone you love and never see them again?
Maybe she should just tell him to ask Thranduil about the details? That would save her explaining but it was also rather cowardly.
Dear Legolas, she began. I love you. She wiped her eyes to avoid tears dripping on the ink and make a blotch. I am sorry to cause you pain.
Oh this was terrible, her words were so empty. Cause him pain? He would be miserable just like she would. And angry. He would feel betrayed.
I know you are angry, she wrote. Well, she was angry too, actually. He had made her believe a child would make their relationship work. But there was no space to complain about that here. ...but this is really for the better, she wrote instead. I couldn't let you die of grief when I die. Great, now she had written "die" twice in the sentence.
She had still not decided what to write next when her door was forcefully thrown open and her intended recipient burst in, slamming it behind him. His face was thunderous.
"Why did you not come?"
It must be well past midnight; she had spent too long mulling over the letter!
She tried to hide it behind her back but he had already seen what she was doing and tore the scrap from her. His eyes were dark and stormy as he read what she had written, brow furrowing deeply.
