Legolas thêl amarth o noss tîn [Legolas
Resolves his Family's Fate]
Kneeling on the rough stone floor just behind the hide covered entrance
to the Prince's nursery, Legolas breathed long and slow, measuring his
respiration to calm and quiet his exhaustion and his nerves. He
rested his cheek against the cool solidity of the abrasive texture,
marvelling that the rock's temperature felt soothing against his
skin. Legolas was more overtaxed than he had realised, so
absorbed had his attention been upon the gruelling task of moving
toward this one spot. Awkwardly he stretched his injured leg out
in the cramped space, exasperated that he could not quite extend the
limb fully and relieve the insistent throbbing in his thigh. The
exacting demands of the climb through the tunnels had strained the
knitting tissues and his body was not shy of complaining about
it. He sat with his sore limb bent to the side and leaned his
shoulder upon the stone for support.
The darkness had retreated, dispelled by the faint illumination leaking
from the chamber beyond, and after the total blindness of the narrow
conduits the dim shimmering was as uplifting to the Tawarwaith as the
first streaks of Anor's rays breaking over the great expanse of the
Greenwood's canopy viewed from the heights of the Sentinel at
dawn. Legolas inhaled a long lungful and puffed it back out, not
quite silently, from his open mouth to dampen the dispassionate walls
with a fine film of his body's moisture. Tentatively he reached
out and trailed his fingertips down the thick leather curtain blocking
both his view of the room and discovery by the occupants within.
At the pressure, the covering flattened against a densely smooth object.
A cabinet of some sort, even as the wardrobe in my quarters guards
the
entrance to the escape chutes there, he reasoned. The
furniture
would be easy to shift, but doing so was unnecessary as the cupboard
undoubtedly was constructed with a false back that neatly slid open to
allow access to the hidden exit. Legolas wondered who had been
the carpenter, for Fearfaron obviously knew nothing of these clever
contrivances, else he would have taken measures to secure the one in
Legolas' suite.
His father, perhaps, the archer thought, and was aggrieved by
the
sudden realisation that he did not know who this elf was or where he
might be, or even if he yet lived or waited amid the many feär in
Mandos' abode.
My adopted father deserves more attention from
me
than this omission admits! I will learn of Fearfaron's life before I
return to the Tasks.
Beyond the bolthole, Thranduil and Meril were speaking together.
He could hear them, and for some reason this was a circumstance Legolas
had not envisioned when constructing his plans for meeting baby
Taurant. The new parents were engrossed in their talk, obviously
content in the presence of each other and their newborn, exchanging
thoughts and emotions that would only be revealed by two who were
completely assured of the bond of love and loyalty they shared.
Legolas listened to a conversation unlike any he had ever heard in all
his lifetime. He curled up on the small landing, knees folded and
an ear pressed against the tough deerskin boundary, shamelessly
straining to catch every syllable, every nuance of tone and timbre
between the royal couple.
"Beloved, the joy you have brought to my heart nearly erases the scars
wrought there by the loss of my parents and my brothers," whispered the
King.
"As your love has vanquished my own grief, dearest one!" the woodland
inu [female elf] replied gently. "My sorrow knows a purpose in
this creation of life between us. Taurant is the nearest thing to
perfection I have ever seen, is he not?"
"Such a question! Of course he is perfect. He represents
the melding of all that is best in both our peoples. His life
will be marked by greatness; I could sense it the moment he was
conceived."
"You may be slightly biased in that assessment, yet I find myself in
agreement."
"We must raise him with the understanding of both halves of his
heritage, Beloved. I will undertake to teach him the ways of the
Sindar, and you may initiate his instruction in Sylvan custom.
Together we will raise this child in wisdom and strength."
"Let us consider the education of both our little ones, Thranduil, for
Gwilith grows more precocious by the hour."
This observation coaxed a light and sparkling laugh from the Sinda
Lord, and in the humble alcove Legolas was shocked, for he had never
heard the King generate such a sound.
"Aye, you are right there. She has a fine mind, not unlike her
Naneth. Did you hear what she has decided to call our
stablemaster?"
"Thîrheidad? [Face of Purpose]"
"The same. From the first day I took her riding with me, he has
been Thûlhaer. [Bitter Breath] Even the warriors are naming
him thus now!"
Both elves burst into merry peals of bright giggling at this
unfortunately appropriate misnomer and could not contain their mirth
for several minutes. Mixed within their joyous outburst Legolas
could just catch the gurgling glee of an infant's laughter and his
heart contracted in sorrow despite the jovial mood within. It
occurred to him to wonder if he had ever uttered such a delighted
chortling when a babe, for surely he had never joined in such
harmonious interaction with his parents. He tried hard to recall
impressions from his earliest days, and was thoroughly flabbergasted
when his mind completely refused to bring the memories forth.
It cannot have been so bleak! Naneth loved me then, even if
there was no affection between her and Thranduil. It is just too
long ago for the images to have remained., he reasoned, but this
did
not ease the uncomfortable tightness encircling his chest.
"Look how clever he is! Taurant understands our joke," cooed
Meril, and this earned a boisterous guffaw from her husband.
"He shares our merriment, but cannot begin to know of what we speak,
Beloved."
"That is what you used to say of Gwilwileth."
"Aye, but even she did not comprehend the complexity involved in
word-play when but days old! We are safe to say what we please in
Taurant's presence for some months yet, I would deem."
"Perhaps. What then of Gwilith? I will have less time than
before, yet I do not wish for her training to be handed off to an aid,
though that elf be chosen by myself with the utmost care. She is
not yet even three years and needs our strength, too."
"True, yet I am here also. We need not trust to any other for a
time. Let me take on the little one; she will lighten my mood
when I must be away from you."
"Thranduil, what will you do with an active child in your council
rooms? I will not have our daughter subjected to gruesome reports
of the activities of Orcs or for her first understanding of our home to
be of the Shadow threatening us."
"Calm yourself, Meril," the Sinda soothed his wife. "I would not
have it thus either. Nay, there is still Lindalcon to depend upon
as well. When I must meet with my warriors or discuss the
encroaching Darkness, her brother will safeguard her at play in the
gardens. I need but arrange my schedule to accommodate time with
her."
"Indeed, that you must, for I will not be shorted on your company
either. Taurant and I will still need the bulk of your strength
in the days ahead. Let the Council do their duty and assume the
tedium of administration for a time. You may be called upon for
the important meetings and left in peace otherwise! So shall I
tell Iarwain!"
"Then so shall it be done, O Queen of the Woodland Realm." Thranduil
was smiling around his words and the two shared a silent moment that
was yet not totally quiet as the unmistakable sounds of lips caressing
and hearts sighing in the slow and languorous enjoyment of the
sensation filled the chamber's airspace and filtered into the tiny
portal's vestibule.
Legolas clenched his hands and drew his head away from the covering
instantly. The euphony of their shared elation ignited a spark of
angry denial in the Tawarwaith's heart. This was not a
proclamation Ningloriel's replacement deserved. Thranduil's mate
she was in truth, yet the fallen archer could not bear to think of any
but his mother as Greenwood's Queen. Nor was the romantic
friction the couple were engaged in an activity he wished to witness,
even removed from the sight of it as he was.
Why could it not have been Ningloriel that Thranduil adored and my
parents there beyond the blocked door, delighting in each other?
Loyal to a fault, Legolas refused to admit that his mother deserved
part of the blame for the antagonism between his mismatched
progenitors, though his heart knew it well enough. And the
concept of Thranduil as a loving father helping with the raising of his
offspring galled the former prince. To this day, the King had not
once touched Legolas nor spoken his name.
Too easily now did these memories arise unbidden into his thoughts. The
shifting scenes flashed through Legolas' mind chaotically, mere minutes
marking years rolling on like a river's perpetual flux, and his mental
mirror revealed him to be a babe or a toddler one moment and a youth
the next. Legolas regretted his desire to relive his infancy and
early childhood; yet once begun the images flooded his mind and
overtook his body, instigating a surging swell of somatic responses.
The woodland warrior shook his head to halt the unwholesome replay of
his growing years. These were not the thoughts he wished to
entertain on the threshold of meeting his infant brother and he refused
to succumb again to the lure of lingering preoccupation with
circumstances which had never been under his control in the first place
and clearly could not be changed now. With a jolt Legolas realised his
heart was racing and his ribs were aching from the nervously shallow
breathing his distress generated. It was the same old sensation
of dread and self-loathing he experienced whenever he had to be near
Thranduil.
No wonder there is tension here; it springs from me! He was
surprised
that the source of discomfort was the ingrained conditioning begun in
his infancy, for he had automatically attributed his worries to current
events.
I am a child no more, nor have I been for many long
years. Worse than Thranduil have I endured! he admonished
himself soundly and drew a steadying inhalation in the close
confinement, holding the air a few seconds before releasing it.
I must not bring discord to the little one, or it would mar forever
Taurant's thoughts of me. The struggle to master his
childhood
reflexes became easier as his notice was drawn again to the occupants
of the nursery room.
The infant prince was fussing over the loss of attention suffered due
to his parents' incipient spooning and cuddling. The Wood Elf
King snickered and then the sputtering, wet sibilance of lips against a
ticklish tummy preceded a bright bubble of bliss bursting through the
air as the babe laughed as loud as his lungs' capacity permitted.
Meril joined in the gentle horseplay and soon the air resounded with
their admixed laughter, punctuated by the noisy razzing.
In spite of himself, Legolas chuckled too as he vividly imagined this
scene and clearly acknowledged his brother's delight. As soon as
the softly melodic giggle left his throat he clamped a hand over his
mouth and stared wide-eyed at the dimly outlined entrance. His
heart rate surged anew as he waited for the inevitable thudding of the
King's boots across the floor.
Taurant became silent all at once and in response his parents did
likewise. For nearly a full minute the chambers were quiescent,
and then the infant let out an irritated wail nearly as voluble as his
previous peels of joy and gregarious whoops. The abrupt
change in mood spurred the adults to action, yet no one approached the
hidden hatchway, for though the inadvertent laugh had seemed loud and
resounding to Legolas, the happy couple had been too engrossed in their
play to notice the vocal accompaniment to their private hilarity.
"Ah! He is hungry and wet, I wager," spoke Thranduil sagely.
"Very well, since you cannot feed him, you may make him dry," retorted
his mate with a light laugh.
The child continued to whimper and cry as movement within the room was
documented by the sounds of the creaking bed when the father rose to
care for his son. Thranduil murmured soothingly while his
concentration was tendered to the task at hand. That Meril had
arisen also was evident from the new location from which her words
emanated, joined by the almost soundless pressure of wooden rockers
upon a plush fur rug.
"Here let me take him now," her voice was gentle and sweetly maternal,
the way Legolas remembered her speaking to Lindalcon when he had first
met Valtamar's family so many years ago. Soon the new child
ceased his crying and as she nursed the babe Meril filled the
comfortable peace with a lullaby all Wood Elves must have heard in
their infancy.
And though this was not his Naneth, nor was he held in the warm
security of loving arms, still the song comforted Legolas and he
relaxed again within the stony cocoon, relieved to remain undiscovered.
The Tawarwaith needed the respite after the strain dealt his body by
the lengthy toil to climb the tunnels. The unnerving realisation of the
hollow drear of his earliest days in comparison to Taurant's perinatal
experiences was draining in its own way. He allowed his mind to
be lulled into reverie, content to pretend the lullaby was for him, too.
Legolas did not care to mark the passing of time as he rested in
harmony with his little brother. It might have been hours or
days; such minutia was irrelevant. This was the first experience
of true reverie he had enjoyed since before encountering the Noldor and
he intended to claim the soothing state of being as long as
possible. He could do nothing until Lindalcon arrived and the
couple left for their repast on the balcony anyway. He let his
wandering feä roam the mountain's bowels, hoping to merge with the
timeless and unconditional acceptance of Tawar. As before, no
means of breaching the inviolability of the rock presented itself, and
yet Legolas did find one source of comfort open to his errant spirit.
Momentarily stunned by the unexplained sense of the wild elf's presence
near him, it took Mithrandir a few seconds to comprehend what was going
on. Once he determined that he was encountering the archer in
reverie, the wizard encouraged fusion between them, and welcomed
Legolas' dream-walking soul into his own. Gandalf was intrigued
to say the least.
He tried to send his thoughts to the archer, but met a firm barrier
against communication. He was unable to ask anything of Legolas, for
the warrior was not open to him in that way, nor could Mithrandir
determine where, in physical terms, his friend was resting for the same
reason. The wizard found that he was not required for advice or
counsel, the Tawarwaith merely needed a protected place to confront his
reality.
Gandalf found himself a witness to this elven state of mind in a manner
few even among elf-kind were privy to observe. Every thought,
feeling, and memory that passed through Legolas' brain for the next
hours was shared entirely with Mithrandir. The Maia was quite
touched by the trust the wild elf placed in him to permit this.
Engrossed in their search for the Tawarwaith, the carpenter and the
mortal noticed the abrupt change in the wizard and waited for an
explanation of his dazed and abruptly silent demeanour. Yet
Gandalf found he did not want to explain to his comrades what was going
on, feeling too much would be read into such a communion in light of
the arguments against his previous aid to the archer. So he merely
explained away his amazement by saying Legolas had contacted him and
the warrior was safe. Fearfaron was far from satisfied with this
response but all his questions were pointless, for truly Gandalf knew
nothing of Legolas' plans.
Safely immersed within the encompassing and compassionate spirit of the
Istar, Legolas could evaluate his situation more calmly. While
pleased and grateful for the wizard's welcome, he still sealed himself
away from Mithrandir's highly active intellect, for the distinction
between the Maia's spirit and that of the forest was striking.
Endlessly expansive, joining to Tawar granted the incongruous
perspective of enveloping distance, allowing Legolas to see his
existence as he might view the Greenwood from the canopy. Confluence
with the Istar's mind, however, would be more like cataloguing the
number and shape of individual leaves on every tree, assigning a reason
for each specific variation discovered. The Maia's consciousness
was aflame with dazzlingly complex, often distractingly contradictory
systems of thought and fraught with the futile energetics of managing
details.
The primary enlightenment Legolas achieved during this union was the
separation between his soul and Taurant's. Perhaps this might
seem an obvious distinction, yet the former prince had fallen into the
trap of likening the little elf prince to himself, and then became
disturbed by the vast inconsistencies between their situations.
The time of introspection also granted him the opportunity to assess
the interconnection between his past and the current reality he
inhabited.
What had been before had nothing to do with what was occurring now, and
yet none of this could have come to fruition had the events he so
regretted never taken place.
Ningloriel would still be here, spending her days between Elrond and
Maltahondo, Greenwood and Lorien, a bright but seldom seen presence in
her son's world. Legolas missed her, but all of his lifetime he
had yearned for her loving care even without understanding what it was
his heart required. She was gone from him, yet had she ever been with
him fully? Nay, and if she had remained, so would he continue to
endure that longing.
Elrond and Malthen. The father he wished to love bedded him
instead and the lover who bedded him turned into the father he was
seeking to love. Here the wild elf's courage failed him and he
could not look upon these injuries and find peace in their
rendering. Too much pain was concentrated within these wounds to
accept them as necessary. Legolas' panicking subconscious shied
away from these two embodiments of his tormented self-hatred, turning
his contemplative eye toward the centre point of his new existence: the
carpenter.
Fearfaron would be only a friendly acquaintance, quietly going on with
his simple life in the talan shared with Annaldír, had nothing
changed. As strange as it seemed, Legolas was actually closer to
Annaldír's soul now than he had ever been when the warrior was
living. And the vast chasm in his life that Fearfaron now bridged
was an incomprehensible void to the archer, and he could not bear to
realise the depth of the emptiness he had accepted as his lot prior to
the sorrow that had drawn them together. The Tawarwaith would
remain fatherless but for the sacrifice of Annaldír in battle
that day and the humble carpenter's outrage against the injustice of
the chastisement twelve years later.
Lindalcon would be training for the guards, eager to follow his
father's example, had Valtamar survived. Legolas counted the
young elf more than a friend, through Gwilith and Taurant the two were
now really brothers, and the archer felt pride to be accepted as such
by the unwilling usurper. Even when everyone else refused to
honour his father's bravery, Lindalcon did not become bitter nor
rescind his avowment of Legolas' innocence. The youth's personal
sacrifice of a warrior's calling, traded for the privilege to associate
with the outcast archer, was in itself enough to bind Legolas' loyalty
to him. But as much as Legolas valued this friendship, he would
willingly relinquish it to secure an end to the suffering and grief
Lindalcon experienced.
As for Meril, she would not be the King's consort, nor would Gwilith
and Taurant exist had he succeeded in his duty and made his shot at the
Goblin King.
Could he balance the feär his actions affected, good result
against ill-fate, the Release of one and the births of two against
three immortal deaths?
Nay, for the measure is still weighted in Darkness' favour, and I
have
yet to confound its intent. Those three warriors were not the
only lives ruined.
In his heart the Tawarwaith could not reconcile the deficits his
actions prompted. Not even for the return of the lives of
Valtamar and Andamaitë would he bid the Valar to rescind the
creation of his brother and sister. Yet the joy of these new
souls was not sufficient to set free the spirits of his comrades, who
even now awaited his actions to Release them, together upon the shores
of the Great Sea beneath the brutal sun.
And what of Thranduil, the father he did not choose who chose not to
love his first-born, who shunned and denied his own blood out of petty
jealousy and personal pride? That coldly hostile Elda was not the
same elf as the one within the nursery now, three meters distant from
Legolas. This was Thranduil as he should have been, before sorrow
and grief, bitterness and anger tainted his feä and blinded his
insight.
The Sinda noble was transformed through his love for Meril and his
overflowing delight in the generation of his second and third
children. That the King held dearer than his own life Legolas'
brother and sister the archer doubted not. He could hear it in
his voice, compellingly borne within even the humblest of syllables
referencing his son and daughter.
How can Gwilith and Taurant not love him in turn? It is right
that they should do so. How will they love him still should the
truth of Erebor come to light?
Legolas beseeched an answer from Tawar, for the quandary was tearing
his heart, but Tawar could not hear him. When the Council
convened, the outcome would strike a wound upon the King from which he
would be unlikely to recover. It was inevitable that what
impacted the parent would not spare the children. No wish had the
outcast to visit the despair of his own experiences upon these little
ones. His love for them was equal to their parents' devotion.
Indeed, he found he could not even uphold a grudge against the cruelly
distant husband of Ningloriel when that elf was no longer
present. Neither could he condemn the inu who usurped his
Naneth's place among their people, for this was the same elf that
nurtured Gwilith and Taurant. With the power to destroy the unity
within their fragile family, could Legolas rob his siblings of that
which he had been denied?
Nay, that shall not be so. Even though it be deemed their fate
by Manwë and Iluvatar, yet will I strive against it!
The decision made, Legolas returned from reverie content with the calm
resolve that filled his mind. His purpose was clearer now than he
had ever known it, and he found his wretched rancour towards his
estranged father removed.
At this moment Lindalcon entered with Gwilith and the child squealed
with delight to see her baby brother. The awakening infant prince
promptly responded to her piercing welcome with a startled outcry that
resolved into a series of affronted shrieks. Lindalcon's scolding
could be heard beneath the cajoling of the King of the Woodland Realm
entreating his little son to shush, which opposed the indignant if
barely intelligible protests of Gwilith to her gwador beleg [big
brother], as Meril tried to soothe them all.
Legolas grinned and did not worry about his light laughter drawing
attention from the elves embroiled in the domestic pandemonium
within. Gradually the infant settled and Gwilith became less
agitated, and more coherent converse was possible.
"Nana, Gwilith hold Tauron!" the toddler demanded.
"Nay, Gwilith, you are too little!" her brother cautioned.
"I am not! Tauron little!" the haughty retort drew her father's
indulgent laughter.
"Yes, Gwilwileth, you are much bigger than Taurant. What is this
you are calling your baby brother?" the King demanded lightly, yet he
was not entirely content with such a commonplace designation for his
prince and heir.
"Tauron! Me and Limlas show Tauron the book!" the childishly
petulant voice explained impatiently and inspired a sudden gasp from
the concealed outcast.
"Limlas?" this was Meril's voice.
"Aye, just another of her pet names, Nana. I promised her we
would share the picture book with Taurant this eve," Lindalcon smoothly
covered the young one's slip. He hurried on with his planned
speech. "I hope you are both feeling quite hungry tonight, for
there is a special dinner prepared and waiting, with all your
favourites, Nana! And to honour Mereth od Estol Arad [the naming
day ceremony] tomorrow, I have asked for a concert below the balcony,
so that as you dine you may judge if my choices for this event are
appropriate."
Clever! I had not realised it was already time for the naming
to
take place. Taurant has been among us a ten-day already.
Legolas
approved of Lindalcon's excuse for the serenade.
"Why, that is thoughtful of you, dearest," Meril murmured in words that
sounded slightly damp with joyous pride.
"Indeed! Thank-you, Lindalcon," Thranduil added, but only silence
met his remark.
Lindalcon did not attempt either to acknowledge the false gratitude of
the King or the discomfort his refusal to reply generated.
Taurant fussed and the mood quickly shifted again.
"Very well, my little one, you may go to your older brother now!
Here, Lindalcon, he misses you!" Meril said and passed the newborn
over. The babe settled contentedly amid the soft cooing of
Valtamar's son, and Legolas grinned to hear such gentle gibberish from
his young friend.
"Lind'on! Lind'on, let me hold Tauron!" this demand from
Gwilwileth was met with warmly sounded laughter from her parents.
"Alright! Here, sit on the sofa next to me and I will help you,"
Lindalcon at last conceded to her strident pleas.
"You have things well in hand, Lindalcon, and so we will go to enjoy
this special feast you have arranged," said Meril, voice brimming with
happiness as she observed the tableau of her three offspring upon the
comfortable settee.
Here was the realisation of her long held desire to quell once and for
all the bitter thorns of despair and grief that had pierced her soul
and threatened her existence. For Lindalcon's sake she had exerted her
will to bring all this about, for she could not bear to leave him
orphaned or suffer him to fade along with her. Now both of them
were firmly attached here with these children, and their family was
healed. If Meril chose to ignore the discord between her new mate
and her oldest child, perhaps it was because she knew of no remedy that
would not cause her first-born further pain, and for this a mother may
be forgiven.
The unobtrusive steps marking the retreat of the royal couple sounded
as loud as hoof beats on stone to Legolas, who could scarcely breathe
in his anticipation of at last joining his siblings in the room beyond.
He waited.
Faintly wafting over the breeze from the courtyard garden, the pleasing
strains of a quartet lifted in song accompanied by harp and lyre
entered the stronghold, and signalled the arrival of the King and Queen
upon their balcony. Amid this soft serenading, Gwilith's
imitation of her mother's crooning cadences for Taurant was quite
endearing, and Legolas could endure the separation no longer.
With impatient fingers he lifted away the deerskin hide and searched
for the grip on the cupboard's backing that would allow him access to
his family. Footsteps alerted him to Lindalcon's approach and in
seconds the bright light of the chamber streamed into the dreary
alcove, momentarily blinding the Tawarwaith as he struggled through the
cramped opening on hands and knees. He felt Lindalcon's hand grip
his arm to help him up and then he was through.
With a couple of blinks his vision adjusted once more to the normal
light level and he beheld his baby brother for the first time, nestled
contentedly in the crook of Lindalcon's arm, gazing serenely right at
the wild archer as if he had quite expected to find him there.
Wordlessly Lindalcon transferred the infant to his brother, his smile
nearly matching the exuberantly broad grin gracing Legolas' features as
he took the tiny bundle up.
Legolas sighed in relief, for Taurant was not a bit afraid to find
himself in strange arms. The two studied one another intently,
each apparently committing the face and form of the other to permanent
memory, recognising the blood bond between them as feä met
feä for the first time.
Tbc.
Contents Previous Next Comments
