Edair, Ionath, Gwenyr    [Fathers, Sons, Brothers]

In Annaldír's room, Legolas strained against the weight of Gandalf as the wizard held him firmly pressed against the mattress.  The elf cried out piteously as the healer scrubbed the rotted remains of flesh from the inflamed areas and used a rather caustic mixture of herbs and water to further burn away any remaining infection.  He was vaguely aware of the hands and voices surrounding him and fought to retreat from increased perception of his painful state.

The healer wanted him awake, however, and relentlessly called and coaxed him to sensibility.  He was at least able to cooperate when she attempted to force a potion past his lips, getting the desired response when she explained the fever would break sooner if he swallowed the vile-scented concoction.  After that, they let him drift back towards the darkness yet kept him from fully becoming enveloped in it.  Fearfaron watched with anxiety from the doorway, and turned back to the talan's opening as he heard the returning steps of Maltahondo.  He hurried to meet the false-hearted warrior below.

"You cannot stay here!  He will wake in a few hours and you must be gone!" Fearfaron demanded before the warrior could utter a single word.

"I mean to stay and help him, if I am able!  He is in peril you cannot know of," he retorted and regarded the carpenter gravely.  Fearfaron was no one to pass judgement on him.

"Indeed?  Well, the peril I do know of is sufficient to denounce you before the Council if you refuse to go!" he whispered loudly.  Maltahondo frowned at his former friend.

"You do not know the truth about this, Fearfaron.  It is a private matter and it is over anyway.  Why force Legolas to endure the public disclosure of such a sensitive subject?" he argued.  At this Fearfaron was almost beside himself with anger, a state of emotions he had rarely had opportunity to experience in his long life.

"That is just the most preposterous statement I have ever heard!  I know the truth of it, for Legolas himself told me!  A private matter?  I dare say that is what you have hoped for all this time, to spare yourself!  Over, did you say?  You can not be further from understanding how it is with Legolas if you can say that!  As for public disclosure, he has already endured that experience in a like vein and I would gladly spare him whatever pain I might.  You must go and not seek him out again!  Allow him the opportunity to heal his heart as well as his body!" he spoke heatedly as he gestured towards the rooms above him.  Maltahondo tried to take this in, conflicted between defensive self-protection and remorseful repentance.   He found himself unable to let go of either emotion when next he spoke.

"I too want him to be well and whole, Fearfaron, though you seem not to believe it.  I do know the damage done; I can not undo it however much I may wish it.  It was Ningloriel who gave him to me, and I could not resist although I tried," he began, but Fearfaron cut him off with an enraged shout.

"Silence!  Do you think such words carry any worth except to your own ears?  By the Valar, you would blame the mother?  What did she do, hold him down for you, grab you by the penis and shove you in him?  I cannot believe you have the gall to speak so!

"And what of her; you and she were lovers for centuries; did you do this out of revenge for her feelings for Elrond?  And what of your relations with her; for all you know you may be his father!"  Fearfaron had to turn away for he found he wanted to strangle the warrior and the idea shocked him.  After calming himself a moment he faced Maltahondo once more.

"And do not act as though you did this just once and then realized your transgressions!  You used him for how long, Maltahondo, how long?" he demanded as the warrior flinched under the barrage.  "Do you know that he still loves you?  Do you know that he wonders what he did to cause you to give him away?  Gave him away!  I cannot even tell you how sickening it was to hear him speak those words!"

Maltahondo remained silent and still, hearing the indictments that he had staved off for so long finally thrown in his face and he knew he had no defense.  The weight of the guilt actually lessened as he endured the derogation of Fearfaron and was at last forced to admit his shame.  His shoulders dropped and his proud demeanor vanished.  The warrior no longer felt worthy of the death awaiting him in the southern patrols, and wondered if the Law allowed him to take his own life as recompense in such a situation.

The carpenter was breathing loudly and exerting such effort to bring himself back under control that he failed to hear Gandalf descending the rope ladder.  The wizard observed the two a moment before speaking.

"I think it would be best to continue this discussion in a more secluded setting, for Legolas' sake at least," he said and Fearfaron jumped, turning swiftly to him.  "Though the paths are empty, elven ears are notoriously acute and elven curiosity equally heightened!" he added.

The warrior gazed about at the vacant city in alarm; had any heard Fearfaron's shouts?

"Yes, you are right Mithrandir.  I do not know what has come upon me to behave so!" Fearfaron said, but Gandalf smiled.

"Never mind, you need not apologize for speaking the truth, even if you were a little loud about it.  Maltahondo, I believe you have true regret for what you have done, is this so?" the Istar asked.  The warrior looked at him and nodded listlessly while Fearfaron glowered, unbelieving.  "Come up, then, and we will discuss what is best to do.  Let us try and remain cool-headed and choose what will best serve Legolas' future."  The two elves followed the wizard into the talan and they seated themselves awkwardly while Gandalf paced slowly about the room.  "We must take care; Legolas lies between sleep and waking while the fever still claims him.  I know not how his mind will interpret what we say here," he said.

Fearfaron got up to check on Legolas again, leaning into the room and gazing down at the still form on the bed.  Legolas lay on his stomach and his head was turned away, but his back looked cleaner and the lashes were sealing over with the normal dark brown of dried blood rather than seeping the puss filled ooze that had predominated earlier.  His torso rose and fell in even intervals and the gleam of sweat was lessened. The healer looked up and smiled reassuringly.

"He is more comfortable now and the infection I have cleansed away.  With enough rest and care I believe he will recover fully," she said and Fearfaron smiled his thanks.

"Do you think he can hear and understand what we are saying?" he asked worriedly.  The healer shrugged.

"Who can know?  It is possible, yet he still struggles against the fever.  It may be that he can hear, but fails to comprehend what is being said. He drifts near but does not reach wakefulness, nor is he likely to for some time as the sickness works its way out of his system.  Perhaps it will seem as a part of the delirium," she could offer no firmer reassurance and Fearfaron nodded, returning to his seat.  He looked over at Maltahondo and frowned again.

"This is just not forgivable.  Really, you must go.  It is the only thing that can help Legolas at all.  What would you say to him that could possibly mitigate what you have done?" he said in a strained yet quiet manner.  Maltahondo shifted in his chair and kept his eyes down not certain if he was expected to respond.  Gandalf nodded slowly and drew out his pipe, taking his time to fill and light it as he leaned against the trunk of the tree.

"I am curious as to what brought you back here," he said but continued without waiting for the warrior to answer.  "And I would like to know if you are the father.  What say you to the charge, Maltahondo?"  The warrior's head snapped up at that and he shook it firmly to indicate his negation.

"No, that much is not true!" he insisted.  "Ningloriel assured me of this long ago, when Legolas was born."  At this Fearfaron groaned.

"It is telling that you needed to ask, Maltahondo!  This proves nothing and only adds more confusion.  Obviously, you suspected your paternity or you would have needed no reassurance from her!" he said irritably.  Gandalf grunted his agreement but Maltahondo again shook his head.

"No, of this I may be certain: I am not his father.  It is true that when he was born, I hoped it would be so.  That is why I questioned her.  Clearly, you know the Queen but little.  It is not in her nature to bear the child of one so low in rank and power as I am.  My family has served hers since they first arrived from Ossiriand, and have been pleased to do so, owing a life debt as it were from those days.

"Ningloriel always wanted more for her family, and sought an advantageous connection among the High Elves.  Her father agreed this would strengthen the position of the Danwaith and chose for her Thranduil, for the Noldor were implicated in the curse of Feanor.  This, she never forgave him for, and it was me she turned to when the despair overcame her.

"She meant to run away alone to be with her sister in 'Lorien.  Of course I went with her, and thus did the pattern of her behavior emerge.  In me she confided her true desire to bond with the Lord of Imladris, as she considered the wisdom and skill of the Noldor greater than the Sindar, and she scorned the ineptitude and pride that had caused the decimation of the Sindar at the Last Alliance.  Yet, that was not to be, as he had already made arrangements to wed Celebrian of 'Lorien and thus form a powerful alliance of his own," Maltahondo's words ended as he recalled these events.

"Her infatuation with Elrond did not prevent you from presuming to overstep your duties to her, your charge, did it?" Fearfaron spat.  "It seems she is not the only one whose pattern of behavior revealed itself!  You have a propensity for taking sexual satisfaction from those entrusted to your guardianship in exchange for needed emotional support!"

Maltahondo stood in anger and faced his old friend then.  "No, it was not like that with her!  I would have bonded with her, had my station been such to allow it!  Believe what you will, but my motives towards Ningloriel are not base!" he rationalized as Fearfaron also rose.

"Really?  And then what of your rape of her child?  Where does that act stand in your true devotion to Ningloriel?" he yelled.  The warrior would have responded but Gandalf stepped between the two and cautioned them to be quiet.

"This will not do!" he said and furrowed his bushy gray brows in a menacing scowl that he flashed at both the incensed elves.  Maltahondo returned to his seat as Fearfaron glared sideways at him, taking a chair further from the warrior.  "Now then," the Istar continued more graciously.  "It seems Ningloriel is the only one who knows the true answer to this riddle!  Do you know when the relationship with Elrond began?"

"Yes, I know they were lovers almost from the time they met and this precedes my own involvement with her," he chanced a glance at Fearfaron as though expecting another outburst.  "For her, it was as close to love as she is capable of feeling.  For him, I think not.  He wishes to add the lands across the Misty Mountains to his holdings.  And he has always had an unusual interest in Thranduil's treasure horde, an unlikely thing considering he has never shown a desire to accumulate like wealth," the warrior continued.

"They met through Celebrian, as a matter of fact, so we may assume the affair was as long-lived as the true bonding.  A long time to remain with one you do not love when no obvious motive of alliance can be seen," the wizard mused.  They were silent for a time and Fearfaron observed as the wily old wizard, drawing contemplatively on the stem of his pipe, pondered the information.  It seemed to the carpenter that what had thus far been told served not Legolas in any tangible way, and rather he suspected the Maia was gathering news for his own purposes.

"What is to be done?  None of this aids us in comforting Legolas through this mess!  He asked her himself, and her response was anything but gentle!  She alone knows and she is gone, and still Legolas must deal with it all while serving out this Judgement against him.  What she may have wished in her heart may not be truth in reality, as her long-standing belief in Elrond's love for her attests.  So I say again, Maltahondo; you may be his father!  Then, this would make the injury you have done already that much more abominable!  Did you not think on this before you committed such atrocities?  How could you use him so, who never harmed you and trusted you with his life and soul?"  Fearfaron was quickly becoming agitated and rose from his chair to loom over the warrior.  Gandalf reached over and carefully drew the elf away, silencing him with a pointed dip of his head in the direction of the sleeping chamber.

"Peace!  You are right; this does not help the fallen archer!  Now, what did bring you to return here, Maltahondo?"  Gandalf asked, again directing the topic to less volatile ground.

"And how do you plan to answer for your misdeeds?" Fearfaron added.

Maltahondo looked from one to the other miserably.  How could he explain to them the cock-eyed reality one inhabited in the company of Ningloriel?  All they said to him now sounded true and he was filled with disgust for what he was become.  Yet, when with his Queen it had all been so easy to overlook and shrug away, considering his own feelings paramount.

He loved her, and had accepted whatever she chose to give him of her heart.  That this had included Legolas had not seemed so scandalous at the time.  After all, it was common for parents to choose an elfling's first, and Legolas had clearly wanted it.  The idea of rape had never entered his thoughts; he had just been too rough and rather careless.  He had made it up to him later; Legolas had reveled in his attentions and craved their love-making.  And when the time came to end it Legolas had not complained, so it was easy to assume his heart had not been affected by the joining.

Maltahondo had salved his conscience with these lies, while assigning motives similar to Ningloriel's to Legolas; knowing nothing could be more false.  Maltahondo remembered more clearly now the devastation on Legolas' face when he had announced that a new lover had been found for him; the confused but trusting acceptance as Maltahondo made his excuse of having merely been teaching the young one of the ways of love. Now he saw his actions through the eyes of Fearfaron and understood the rage the carpenter felt and he ground his teeth in frustration.

"I returned to warn him.  While in Lorien I was approached by Lord Elrond.  He said that he was acting out of fondness for the Queen and that he promised her to help her son.  He bade me fetch Legolas back to Lorien to his care.  This I do not trust, for I have long known he was using Ningloriel to seek information against Thranduil.  He has tried many times to draw him into open conflict and thus take from him the Greenwood, but Thranduil has been wise enough to spend his rages at home.  Thranduil has a repugnance of harming any elf, even Noldor, and will not raise sword against any elven realm, no matter the bad blood that arises," he stated.

Gandalf was clearly unimpressed with Thranduil's magnanimous restraint, thinking of the circumstances Legolas found himself in.  Fearfaron was just as clearly amazed, but rather at Elrond's audacity, and turned to Gandalf for his comments only to see the Istar brooding in contempt.

"He seeks to turn Legolas against Thranduil because of the Judgement?" the carpenter wondered aloud, and Gandalf raised troubled eyes to his.

"Perhaps.  I had hoped to talk to Legolas about the Judgement more closely, but this may be impossible until he is recovered.  In any case, I would not think it a bad thing if he goes to Lorien and comes under the influence of Elrond.  It is equally possible that he is Legolas' father, and would explain his interest in less mercenary terms," the wizard replied thoughtfully, but Fearfaron disagreed.

"No, he must not go to Lorien now.  If Elrond is the father, he has shown only disregard for Legolas thus far.  If he cared for the relationship as you suggest, he could long ago have sent word to him through Ningloriel to join him at Imladris.  Once in his majority, Legolas was free to leave if he chose to do so.  Given that he used the Queen for his own purposes, he is likely to do the same with her son.  Legolas has only his Tawar and myself to depend on, and neither can reach him there.  He is far too trusting, assuming the motives that drive his actions are the same for others," here the carpenter shot another scorching look at Maltahondo.  "He cares not for power or possessions and does not understand jealousy or hatred at all.  I do not think he would fare well among the Noldor!"  Fearfaron's prejudices could not be put aside, yet Gandalf could not deny the soundness of much he said.

"I agree with you, carpenter, though you may disregard my opinion. The Lord of Imladris is not inspired by kindness.  At any rate, Legolas would never leave without completing the Tasks, for you are also right about the genuine quality of his motives.  He will fulfill the obligations of the Judgement or die in the attempt," the warrior said and Gandalf stirred.

"Then that must be helped along.  I have no intention of allowing him to die; I have seen something unusual in him and would have it develop further.  I need him, and can lend him guidance in exchange," he murmured as Fearfaron arched a brow in his direction.  {At last, the Istar reveals his true purpose, and it has nothing to do with Legolas' wellbeing for his own sake,} he thought angrily.

"He will not accept your help and your guidance would serve him in what way?  You have not said anything about what you are doing here, Gandalf!" he said and Gandalf calmly dumped out the blackened ashy remains of his pipe's bowl, casting it over the edges of the talan before answering the challenge.

"I do not claim to have only Legolas' interests foremost in my mind, yet you do not have any reason to distrust me, Fearfaron.  Did you not send for me to come when you arrived?  It seems that in spite of your protective nature, or more truly because of it, you seek to involve me in your foster son's future."

Fearfaron sat up straight and wondered at these words as Gandalf's eyes crinkled warmly to see his reaction.  Yet, the carpenter found the concept neither foreign nor unpleasant and let it run a few times across his thoughts before replying.  Maybe it was right to claim Legolas as his foster son and as he thought this he acknowledged that he had already done so, on the night of Edinor Baudh.  With a flash of realization he understood that subconsciously Legolas had accepted, and that this agreement was somehow linked to Annaldír's release.  Fearfaron smiled to himself and focused again on the Istar's speech.

"You know that what Maltahondo states is so, and on considering it, I also agree; Legolas will not cease trying to complete these Tasks until he frees all the lost warriors or dies.  I can be at his aid when neither of you can for no Law or Custom of the Wood Elves binds me.  And, my council will indeed benefit him as I have reason to believe he intends to locate himself near Dol Guldur!" the wizard continued and watched as Fearfaron's placid features contorted in alarm.

"Why would he do that?  There is surely enough trouble near by to keep him busy for numerous years and to fulfill the completion of many Tasks!" he complained.  What cruelty was this to give him another son only to snatch the hope for his living long away?

"He has already expressed a desire to continue his efforts in a more substantial way.  He thinks more now of his responsibility to Tawar than his obligations under the Judgement.  He has become a bit disillusioned with the Laws and Customs," Gandalf replied and Fearfaron snorted at this understatement.   The warrior shifted a bit and stood.

"I can also follow him there and perhaps be of aide," he began but immediately Fearfaron rose to contest him.

"Oh no, I think not!  You will stay away from him; have you not done enough harm?" he fought to keep his tones low as he uttered these words.

"I was with him all the years we served in the guard together and never in all that time did I touch him in that way!" the warrior argued.  "You said yourself he still trusts and cares for me," he was again cut off by the carpenter's derisive sneer.

"No, I said he still loves you, Maltahondo!  I do not believe you honorable enough to refrain from taking advantage of that fact, so far away from any eyes to observe you!  It was your own reputation you sought to protect when you handed Legolas off to some other elf's use!  You did not want word to get around within the guard of your crimes!"  Fearfaron stopped speaking as Gandalf caught his eye with an irritated and impatient scowl.  Maltahondo said nothing to these charges and turned as though to go.

"Wait!" spoke Gandalf.  "Can you swear that there is no veracity in what has been said?"  Maltahondo sighed despondently.  He wanted to loudly protest that none of the condemnations were accurate, except that the last part of him that was ethical refused to allow it.  He remained silent, head bowed, and waited for the Istar's decision.  The wizard sighed with equal grief and turned away.  "Then, I must side with Fearfaron.  You will stay away from Legolas.  What help you can give you must render from within the confines of your company.  Should you disregard this request, I will back the carpenter's claims against you in Council," he said bluntly.  A movement from the sleeping chamber surprised them as the healer leaned out the doorway.

"As will I!" she growled with fervor before disappearing back within the room as quickly as she had come forth.

Fearfaron refrained from adding to what he had said already and stood as well, moving as though to escort the warrior down the rope ladder.  Maltahondo accepted his dismissal and retreated from the talan, moving off towards Ennyn Telei [the Rear Gates] that opened into the barracks and stableyard.   He planned to ride back to Talagan's company the next morning, relieved that his secret sin was yet a mostly private concern, and determined to prove to himself that there was still something worthwhile within his character.

Afternoon's golden gleam dwindled into tinnu's shadowy softness as Fearfaron and the healer kept their vigil near Legolas.  Gandalf made his excuses before the evening meal was missed and returned to the stronghold, promising to check back later.
 
With a strong sensation of déjà vu, Legolas breathed in deeply the fading scent of Fearfaron's son within the pillows and mattress of the comfortable bedding.

He was aware of the same dull aching across his back and shoulders and the same lightness of breath and dizzy spinning in his head as before on the night of Edinor Baudh.  Was it still that same night?  Somehow this seemed wrong and he struggled to order the fuzzy fragments of memory and regain a coherent timeline.  He sought to lift his head and found it unbearably heavy.  A sharp pounding started immediately in his temples and he groaned into the pillow as he let his head drop back quickly.  Nearly instantly he felt hands gently gripping his biceps, even as he had before, and recognized the touch of the carpenter's roughened and callused fingers.

"Legolas?  Are you awake?" the familiar voice spoke close to his ear and he nodded once against the pounding in his brain.  "Then, you must be thirsty.  But lie still, for you have been struggling long against this sickness.  The healer has only left a few hours ago when she was convinced the fever was finally broken.  Here, drink slowly," he said and helped Legolas raise his head to the waterskin he held, this being easier to drink from in such a prone position.

Legolas found himself parched and would have gulped down the entire contents, but the carpenter restrained him and forced him to rest and breath between swallows.  Slowly the liquid refreshed him and the headache began to subside a bit.  Legolas managed a lopsided smile for his friend before shutting his eyes again and drifting back into much needed healing sleep.

Sunlight, softly muted through the filter of the last lingering leaves of the autumn-kissed beeches, played about the flowing net draperies surrounding the bed in which Legolas reposed.  Exquisitely the gentle afternoon's illumination sang in the air as the cooling breezes blew their own calming notes throughout the talan.  Both cautiously caressed the cruelly used body that held there so strong and bright a soul.  High and sweet the clear tones of a sylvan voice joined the glory of the lengthening day and the soothing sounds eased Legolas into consciousness.  He smiled to hear the sunbeam's song joined by the youthful exuberance of that very elf as Lindalcon recited a tune he remembered from his own lessons in geography of Middle Earth.

"Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui
In the green fields of Lebennin!
Tall grows the grass there.  In the wind from the Sea
The white lilies sway,
And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin
In the green fields of Lebennin,
In the wind from the Sea!"1

Lindalcon crooned in dulcet timbre as he absentmindedly turned the pages of a thick tome filled with maps and verses for all the regions known from the First Age to the present.  Legolas roused himself at last convinced this was not, after all, a dream and the young elf was actually seated next to him on the bed, legs crossed beneath him with the book upon his lap.  Lindalcon felt his movement and ceased singing to peer into his face with concern.  Legolas gazed back with a hazy smile through slumberous eyes.  Lindalcon jumped up and ran to the doorway, a bright smile upon his countenance.

"He is awake, Fearfaron!  Really, this time he is awake!" he called out and then ran back and climbed back with exaggerated care to resume his place, cautious not to jostle the recovering elf even the smallest bit.  "It is high time, too, Legolas!  Every time I come here you just sleep the whole time, and then Nana sends for me to go home again.  It has been three days thus!" he spoke in exasperated cadence and Legolas smiled more.  He shifted, trying to determine if he could raise himself up, only to find Fearfaron's arms quickly assisting him to roll carefully onto his side.  Legolas propped himself up on one elbow with effort and gazed from one to the other.

"Well now," said Fearfaron happily.  "Three days indeed it has been! It is good to see you clear eyed and cognizant!"

"I thought you were dead; it was awful to see you like that, all white and limp!" Lindalcon breathed out in distressful accents and reached over to touch Legolas' arm lightly.

"Sorry," Legolas' voice was dry and cracked and he frowned, trying to clear it in vain.  Fearfaron went to the side table and poured out a cup of water and handed it to him, watching as he drained it in seconds and handed it back, eyes pleading for more.  Fearfaron complied and sighed contentedly to hear the hurried gulping and slurping as Legolas again downed the contents.  Lindalcon snickered.

"Nana would scold you for such noisy swallows!  Lucky for you she is not here now!" he giggled and then stopped abruptly as Legolas paled and all the peace left his eyes.  Lindalcon dropped his smile and his eyes as he remembered that Legolas' own mother was gone.  How could he be so stupid, he berated himself silently?  But the next instant he felt a hand against his chin and a gentle pressure forcing him to lift his gaze.  Legolas smiled a sad smile to reassure him and dropped his hand back to the bed.

"Have you been here every day?" he asked and was pleased his words sounded more like his normal voice.  Lindalcon was nodding.

"I am allowed to come after lessons and stay until dinner-time.  My tutor usually brings me back and forth." he replied.

"Speaking of dinner, you have been all this time without anything nourishing and I would like you to try and eat something!  I'll be right back," Fearfaron left to prepare something light for the three of them and returned with a tray of sliced apples, sweet and golden as the sunlight.  Legolas devoured four pieces before he noticed the other two were just watching and smiling at him.  He grinned timorously and slowed down to give them an opportunity to help themselves.  Lindalcon snickered again and Legolas raised his brows in inquiry.  Lindalcon tossed his wavy tresses pack from his face.

"I was remembering that picnic we had two summers ago when it was my Edinor-ned-Nauthad [anniversary day of conception].  You ate so fast you choked and Ada had to pound on your back!"  The young elf watched as Legolas' face grew serious and sad again, and he knew his own looked similar, but somehow that felt comfortable at the same time.  "I do not believe you killed him!" Lindalcon blurted out and Legolas caught his breath.

"I did not mean to, Lindalcon, but I was careless.  I am sorry!" he whispered hoarsely, but the elfling refused the apology.

"No!" he countered.  "I have seen the battle over and over, almost every night in dreams!  It is the nasty Goblin King that killed Ada!  He was very brave and he stepped in front of one of the Men to save him from the beast!" the child was crying quietly and Legolas instinctively reached out and pulled him into a tight hug against his shoulder.  "Why does no one ever tell the tale of the battle and sing about the brave deeds?" he wailed and Legolas looked helplessly over the elfling's shoulder to Fearfaron, who had no solace to offer.  "It is as though everyone is afraid to speak about it; as though the fight was shameful and something to forget," Lindalcon went on through his broken sobs as he clung to Legolas.  "My Ada never did any shameful thing!" he cried and Legolas was angry to hear how the fallen warriors were ignored and forgotten so quickly by their people.

"You are right, and your father was very brave and fought well that day," Legolas said.  "He did save that Man, and many others.  Before he was struck down, he twice pushed back Andamaitë from danger.  I saw this myself from above the battle plane.  His efforts should indeed be sung on Edinor ned Dagor-od-Erebor [Anniversary Day of the Battle of Erebor]!  We will never forget him!"  Fearfaron was nodding in agreement and reached out to soothingly rub the elfling's back as his shuddering sobs slowed.

"Aye, Lindalcon.  We will have to remind the others of these things you say.  Valtamar was my good friend, and I am proud my son was beside him at the end," he said, but at these words Legolas descended into despair again as he realized all this sorrow could have been avoided but for his own failings that day.  His own tears began then and he leaned his head against Lindalcon's, whose sorrow spilled over anew as he felt and heard the archer's lament.  Fearfaron sat on the bed and encircled them both in his arms and thus they remained until the sun's golden globe became a coppery orb and Lindalcon's tutor called him away.

TBC
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