The Garden of the Queen

The trouble with elves is that they are so very tall and silent on their feet. One minute you are alone and the next you find yourself beside a creature at least twice your height if not more.

Rosie looked up at the very tall elf, taller than any she had yet met. He’s beautiful. I know we don’t use that word back home for our men folk but really no other would do for this one. The golden hair that fell on his shoulders was braided away from his face and what her Sam called the warrior braid was atop the rest of the pale hair that he had left loose on his shoulders as seems to be their custom near as Rosie could tell.

"My lady, would you be Mistress Rose, wife of Sam Gamgee?’

Rosie smiled for, as she was sure she was the only female hobbit in Gondor, the elf would know that she was, but she had already decided that there was no hobbit bluntness in elves. It was merely their way to be formal and courteous. "I am that and glad to be it. What’s he up to now?"

The elf blinked mentally and almost smiled, but his outwardly serene face reflected none of this to the small one who was looking up at him. His brothers, who could read him better, would have dissolved in laughter by now, but fortunately they were not near. He suddenly realized how tall he must seem to her and dropped to one knee so that, while still far from level, their eyes more closely matched. Rosie was glad of that for he was very tall, this elf.

"I know not what this phrase means, but I am Haldir of Lórien. I am one of the healers for Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, and he and your husband have asked me to seek you out and bid you join us in the Queen’s garden if you would so honor us."

"Well, I must look for Elanor first for she’s a great one for mischief and I should die of shame to disturb the quiet of the Lady Arwen’s house."

"Arwen’s house was not always so quiet as this one in Gondor, for Master Elrond raised twin sons, a daughter and, long after them, Estel, and when I did escort my lord and lady here to visit their grandchildren, these halls were full of laughter and the sights of Lord Celeborn and Master Elrond being used as horses by Elladan and Elrohir while I had my brother Orophin upon my own back. If Thranduil, were on a visit, he would carry Legolas, and then it was truly a race indeed. I know that Arwen welcomes the sound of a child in these halls.

Well, she might but then again I wonder if she knows just how much trouble a hobbit child could be? Perhaps she does though for her father had Pippin to visit before and survived it and even invited him back and that was very brave of him. Rosie smiled. "Mr. Haldir? Did Arwen not ride in these races?"

Haldir laughed. "Ah, Arwen would have no steed but the Lady Galadriel and they always won each race no matter how hard we would try to beat them. That is, unless King Thranduil was here, they never lost. Legolas on his kingly mount is the only one I have ever known to beat the Lady Arwen. And you may be sure that she did not like that all, for their wagers were always great and she lost much of the sweets that Master Elrond would give her in secret. King Thranduil did not approve of sweets, so Legolas could only get them if he beat Arwen. Of course, he is so generous with her that within an hour she had many of them back again."

Rosie laughed with him and somehow he did not seem quite so tall and frightening to her as he continued to speak. "As for the fair Princess Elanor, can you not guess where she may be?"

"With Orophin?" Rosie knew she was right. From the moment, Elanor had first laid eyes on him Elanor had fallen deeply in love with the young warrior of the Galadhrim and sought his arms before even her mother’s if he but beckoned to her to come to them.

I should have known that! Why, it’s as if he’s bewitched her for our Elanor was never one to take to strangers at all, hiding her face in my apron she’s always done before. Yet when the young elf had first knelt before her and bid her come to him in that elvish language which she don’t know a word of she had flown into his arms and begun to cover his face with baby’s kisses, which he returned in full measure. I asked Arwen what charm he had called to her, and she said it was "come to me, little flower princess, come to your squire for I am lost in love for you already and must now be your servant or die of heartbreak."

They did talk fanciful these elves, but Elanor loved them all, from those she met walking in the gardens of Ithilien with Orophin to Legolas, who Rosie knew as the Queen's childhood friend.

I thought I’d die when she clambered right up into Legolas' lap that time when Arwen had all those important people there to meet my Sam and Mr. Frodo. But he did seem to like it, and kept her there as he talked to the important delegation and when it got chilly in the room he covered her bare feet with his beautiful robe and let her play with the silver chain about his neck to keep her quiet as if he did know how to care for a child.

 *****

Elanor became angry with her mother for attempting to stop her from picking the queen’s flowers and suddenly and without warning she ripped three of the most beautiful roses off the bush and tore them apart and let them fall heedlessly to the ground. Rosie caught her up and was about to administer the spanking she so richly deserved when she was stopped by the remembrance of the sharp intake of breath she had heard at her daughter’s mischief. She turned to look at the elves from whom the sound had issued.

All four wore looks of horror at what Elanor had done and Legolas had even tried to leave his bed to stop her it seemed for he was being restrained by Rúmil. Even Orophin, the child’s willing slave, looked appalled.

Oh, Elanor, my lass! I don’t know what it is you’ve done other than be your usual naughty self, but it looks like it’s something big and we’re in trouble sure. 

After what seemed like an age to Rosie that no elf moved or even seemed to breathe, Haldir arose and came down the path to where Rosie stood holding the now frightened Elanor in front of her. Haldir said not a word to them but knelt and gathered each torn petal from the path and placed them in his hand as gently as if each were a wounded child. He spoke over them in his own tongue, and there were tears on his cheeks. When he had done, he closed his fingers protectively over them and turned to Elanor.

"Elanor, daughter of Samwise, look upon me and come forth." The child was frightened but she seemed unable not to obey the elf. She stood before him with her head hanging down. He lifted her chin and held it up as he spoke to her in a voice filled with sadness.

"Dost thou know what thou hast done, child?" She shook her head slowly.

"Thou hast killed creatures whose only life was to bring beauty and fragrance into a troubled world. In your willfulness and anger to have your way, you have destroyed three beautiful things and they will never come again, for they are dead and now will wither and know not even the joy of the short time which Ilúvatar allows to them on Arda. And, their death has served no purpose for they were not intended to make a medicine to soothe the sick or to bring beauty to the rooms of the Lady Arwen, for to such fate they would have given their agreement and found contentment in their end. Instead, they lay in the dust at your feet and their end has come before it should and only because of you. Hast thou aught to say to this, Elanor, daughter of Samwise Gamgee?"

If he’d yelled, she’d be in a tantrum but look at her. Ne’er have I seen my little imp more frightened or ashamed. This will teach her a better lesson than my spanking but it will be painful for her, and I’m sure she’d rather have the spanking and be done with it.

Orophin had joined them and knelt beside his brother and Elanor seemed to hope that he would rescue her, but she was soon disappointed. Orophin did not hold his protecting arms out to her as usual but looked at her sadly and there were tears of disappointment on his cheeks.

"Nay, my princess, I cannot rescue you from this for all must learn to bear what their actions have done. It is the prince of Ithilien who must now judge you, for these flowers were among those he brought to the Lady Arwen to ease the aching of her heart for the home of her father that is so far away.

And he has tended them with his own hands, trusting no other with their care until he knew that they were strong enough to stand. He alone can decide your punishment. Come, my brother and I will take you now to him.

Prince of Ithilien!  Oh, Elanor we are in trouble for I know not who he is but from the reaction of your guardian elves I suspect he is going to be very, very angry. Still, Orophin will not let him physically hurt you. I know that, and he is right to say that the prince must decide your punishment. Oh, perhaps he will send us away and my poor Sam will be disgraced for he does admire the elves no end! Oh, Elanor!

To Rosie’s amazement the brothers led her daughter not towards the palace but back to the soft couch beneath the trees that had been brought for Legolas to rest upon at need. Legolas sat crosslegged upon the head of this bed, sitting very straight and stern but sorrowful of face and the green velvet robe they had put upon him against the chill draped down besides the bed and made him seem very tall to the child even though he was sitting.

Beside him stood Rúmil as if he were his guard, for Rúmil had removed the great bow of the Galadhrim from his back, the bow that was taller than even Rosie herself, and he held it loosely by his side, and, for the first time, Rosie saw him as the warrior that he was. Haldir and Orophin inclined their heads to Legolas and Haldir spoke.

"Legolas Thranduilion, prince of Ithilien and Eryn Lasgalen and one of the Nine Walkers, we bring this child to your judgment."

Sam should have told me he was a prince and of two lands! Wait until I get Sam alone. Here I’ve been so free and easy with Legolas and him a prince and all!

"Of what crime is she accused?" They had placed Elanor sitting on the foot of his couch and he looked at her gravely as he listened to Haldir’s words of explanation. He shook his head in sorrow. "It is a grievous offense, and it saddens my heart to know that such a fair princess could act so. Do you repent of this offense, Princess Elanor?"

"Yes, oh, yes! I won’t ever do such a thing again! Please forgive me." Her lip trembled but, although his heart ached at her sorrow, still Legolas did not smile as he took her small hands in his for a moment and then set them free again.

"I believe that you will not do such a thing again and that you are truly sorry, but that will not bring back these creatures of Ilúvatar or lessen their pain at their deaths."

He held up his thin hand and Haldir carefully put the petals into it. Legolas lay them upon the silk coverlet between himself and Elanor and he prayed over them in Quenya and he listened to the petals speaking to him and then he smiled to himself.

From his robe, he drew a small silk bag and opening the cords that closed it held it out to Elanor. "Place these poor petals into this bag very gently and let them see your sorrow at your act for I have spoken to them and they have agreed to abide there and let their fragrance be a comfort to me when I sleep tonight. For I will have pain and the scent of these petals will help me bear it and in doing so their lives will not have been in vain. They will have been a blessing of Ilúvatar, for to him were they precious."

Elanor took the bag and weeping did as she was told.

What a marvel he is! My Elanor expected a spanking and he has instead brought her an ease of her guilt. Poor lad, for I believe him when he says that he suffers pain. His eyes show it even though he smiles and made no mention of it before this.

Rosie watched her daughter carefully fill the bag and, once she was sure that she had missed no petal, hand it back to the prince. Then, Legolas carefully tied the cords of the bag, kissed it and put it inside his robe.  He looked at Elanor and inclined his head to her.

"I thank you for the medicine that you have given me and the ease that it will bring me. Still, I must pronounce your sentence and this it shall be. For three days, one for each rose whose life you have taken, you will rise and before breakfast you will come with Orophin to this garden and under his direction you will spend the morning until elevenses working in this garden and making its beauty grow."

Rosie smiled. Ah, you are a stern ruler, Prince Legolas, but just. To deprive a hobbit child of breakfast and even second breakfast is something indeed! But, just look at her face now. She’ll do it without complaint, or I’m much mistaken.

"And the second part of your sentence is thus." Legolas smiled directly at the child for the first time since the roses had been torn apart.

"Princess Elanor, until the twilight falls today, you shall not let your esquire wait upon you as is his custom. For you have hurt Orophin’s heart by your failure in his trust of you and must also acknowledge this and make amends. I thereby order you first to go to his arms and receive his blessing if he will give it and then to spend the rest of the afternoon doing kind things for him. That is the judgment of the Prince of Ithilien and Eryn Lasgalen. Let it be carried out and when it is done let no mention be made of it ever again for this princess will have made her atonement, and I judge her guilt absolved."

Suddenly, Elanor threw herself into the arms of the prince which he had held out to her and began to cry upon his shoulder. He soothed her for a moment and then with his eyes asked Haldir to set her down from the bed.

Elanor stood trembling and looking off to where a little way from them Orophin had been sitting and watching the judgment of his princess. He opened his arms to her and she ran into them and for sevaral minutes would not leave off from weeping, and what he said to her he never said to another, but all knew that she had been forgiven.

Holding his hand, she walked toward the berry bushes with him and they saw him first give her a kiss and then wash her face with a cloth he dipped into the brook. She must have remonstrated with him for they saw him hand her the cloth and she dipped it again into the brook and carefully wiped the drying tears from the elf’s face. Then, she pushed him to sit and took the bucket from his hands and began to pick the sweet berries for him and place them in the pail, never eating one herself, although they all knew her fondness for them.

Orophin smiled and leaned back against the tree to watch Elanor as she worked, and he began to sing to her, for not even the Prince of Ithilien’s command could stop Orophin from that small comfort to his princess.

"Well, I’m certainly glad I don’t chop down trees when you’re around. Hate to think what you elves would do to me for that." All laughed as Grimli gently cuffed the head of the prince of Ithilien and sat down beside him with a grunt.

"Ai! It would be such a dreadful punishment that even a dwarf could not long endure it."

"A dwarf can bear all that he has to bear. You make me curious though to know what torment I should endure?"

"Why Gimli, I should sentence you to a lifelong friendship and love of a woodland elf and never let you be parted from his side!"

"Ah, and that would kill me in truth!" Gimli put his arm around Legolas and drew him closer. "But then, someone has to look after this fool elf, and I’ve done it this long and it seems to have become a bad habit, like my love of pipeweed."

To compare Legolas to pipeweed struck Pippin as so funny that he began to laugh and since, as always, he was eating he choked and had to be rescued by Merry and Haldir amid the laughter of all.

Thus, the celebration that they had begun continued with its former happiness and no one, save perhaps Gimli and Rosie, later saw the prince of Ithilien slip the small silk bag from his cloak and hold it beneath his nose as he closed his eyes briefly against some pain that came upon him.

And in his heart Legolas knew that the roses had done their duty to Ilúvatar, and this brought him comfort.

Chapter 2 - The Midnight Watches

"You are awake?" Sam crept over to the window alcove when he saw the elf sitting there. These alcoves were where Legolas preferred to sit when he must be within the castle of Gondor, for he did not like its enclosing walls, and they troubled his spirit. Arwen he knew shared his discomfort, although she never spoke of it to Aragorn.

Instead, before every window, she had the craftsmen of the elves that Legolas had brought to Ithilien build a simple bench and carve it with the mellyrn leaves and those of beech and oak and rowan and all the trees that the elves love. On each was a cushion of greyed green silk embroidered by hers and her maidens’ hands with the same leaves of the trees that were carved below.  And Arwen made sure that each window would open fully to the air, and that each stayed open at all times unless driving rain or the fiercest cold prevented.  She did this although all her women servents of Gondor told her that it was unhealthy to let in even the smallest breath of the night air of summer. She told Aragorn that it was all for Legolas’ comfort, and Legolas let her do this, for neither wished to let the King of Gondor know how his lady missed her home.

Most often though, Legolas would perch himself on the wide sills of the castle windows above the benches that his artisans had wrought.  There, he would lean his back against the stone of the window’s side, for he then would be as near to the air as he could, and the sills gave ample room for his slender form.

Sam saw him sitting there now with the green robe over his night tunic for warmth. He was too thin, too thin even for an elf. Sam’s eyes saw this, and his kind heart ached.

Legolas’ back was against the window side and his knees were drawn up, his feet flat upon the sill. Until Sam entered, his chin had rested on his knees. He turned his face to the hobbit and smiled in the moonlight. Then, as ever, Sam thought his thin face looked somehow like magic must be to those who could see it, with the pale hair of Legolas spilling over his shoulders and reflecting back Ithil’s light in reverence.

It struck Sam that he had never seen Legolas’ hair unbound before. During their journey, it was ever braided.  If Sam had thought about it before, he would have known that Legolas must redo those braids. Still, he, and he thought none of the company, had ever witnessed such a thing. The elf slept so little. Sam supposed he did it always while they themselves slept, and he wondered why. Perhaps Gimli was the cause. He delighted ever in laughing that elves ne’er looked unkempt like the earthy dwarves. Ever then would Legolas laugh and still say nothing.

Sam wanted to touch the unbound golden hair so much it almost hurt. Somehow he just knew it was magic, but that wouldn’t be respectful and he kept his hands at his sides. Sam had always been a little afraid of the elf. While kind and gentle, Legolas had kept himself so very private from the hobbits.

"I didn’t mean to wake you, Mr. Legolas, sir!" The elf smiled, and motioned Sam to be seated.

"You have not, for as you see Haldir knows that I am awake.  I wished to watch Ithil's face in the sky for but a little.  Before he slept, Haldir and gave his permission. His terms are hard though. For, to receive this boon, I had to promise him that I would eat fruit and bread and honey that he would bring to me and drink wine steeped with his medicinal herbs. Legolas gestured to the still full tray on the sill beside him, which to Sam looked untouched except for a small piece of bread with perhaps two bites gone from it. "I have little appetite, and it hurts at times to eat, but he has trusted to my honor, and I am trying, Samwise Gamgee." Legolas took at most three of the beautiful berries from the bowl and put them slowly, one by one into his mouth. "These are not so difficult, for they taste of the forest. Orophin and his princess picked them for me during their morning’s work in the garden. The bread is not what I am used to though. It is heavy somehow, and has no life in it." He picked up the piece from the plate, and then a fleeting revulsion crossed his face, and he placed it down again.

"I cannot swallow it, and yet I have promised Haldir."

"Why, Mr. Legolas, I’ve an idea. I have a bit of bread as my Rosie’s made, quite as much as Mr. Haldir left on your plate. My Rosie’s bread is the best in the Shire and, with a bit of that honey. I’m sure it’d go down much easier for you than that stuff that’s so heavy and dry. I’ll eat that for you, and it will be the same, won’t it? Mr. Haldir’s not put any of his healing herbs in the bread, has he?"

Legolas smiled. After their long journey together, he did not even wonder that a hobbit abroad after midnight in the castle of Gondor would be carrying bread of his own. It seemed something they would do.

"No, he said he feared that there was no healing in this bread, but he could procure no better for me here in Gondor without shaming Arwen before her husband. My stomach could not tolerate much else here, so we have settled on bread and fruit and honey. The food here is so very difficult to eat for us. We eat it as best we can for we know it troubles Arwen if we turn from it."

Sam thought of the good hearty fare that all the hobbits had eaten here with so much enjoyment and suddenly realized that it didn’t seem at all like the food that they had been given in Imladris or Lórien. He remembered how Mr. Haldir and his brothers would pass the platters of red and greasy meat to the hobbits with their eyes slightly averted from those platters and take none of the flesh for themselves.

Sam concentrated on remembering, and now it seemed to him that the elves were living on the fruit that the mortals shunned at the table and any vegetable that had not been cooked in the too heavy fat that seemed the custom in this land. That alone had he seen them eat, together with whatever cheese and bread they could get. He had been so very stupid not to notice, and Mr. Legolas sick and all."

Sam poured out a little of the honey, not near as much as he would have taken for himself, but probably more than Legolas would have ever used, onto a piece of Rosie’s bread. The elf took it politely and wondered how he would eat it, for he did not wish to hurt Sam, but he was wary of all food made by mortals. He took a very small bite and chewed it. Then he stopped and looked down at Sam and smiled.

"It tastes like sunshine and clean sky and goodness, and my body tells me that it wants more of it." He took another bite, still small by hobbit standards, but a definite improvement over the last in Sam’s opinion. Sam laughed, and the elf smiled back at him, still chewing the bread delicately.

"Did I not say my Rosie makes wonderful bread?" The elf nodded and gratefully took the second piece that Sam handed him. "Now, you just finish this up and those berries, so Mr. Haldir will be pleased, and I’ll finish up this bread of Gondor, for it doesn’t seem as bad to a simple hobbit as to an elf lord I’m sure." Sam took a piece of the despised bread and chewed it hungrily.

Surprised, he felt Legolas’ thin hand cover his own and clasp his fingers strongly. "Samwise Gamgee, to you must I never be an elf lord. To you, I am Legolas. Please?" And the elf raised Sam's hand and placed it on his moonlit hair and smiled at the hobbit.

Sam nodded silently as those endless eyes held his. Sam, who had so shortly before ne’er dreamed of setting even one of his sturdy feet beyond the Shire’s boundary, knew then that his whole world had changed forever. He had met the elves.

Chapter 3 - The Second Breakfast of the Elves

"Orophin, up!" Elanor wriggled from her mother’s grasp and ran swiftly down the path to tug at the hem of the elf’s tunic. If she stood on tiptoe and stretched to her very fullest, Elanor had learned that she could just reach to grasp the fabric between her small fingers.

He never forgets to act surprised when she does that, as if he’d been totally unaware of her presence until she was clever enough to draw his attention. She loves that.

Rosie smiled as the elf bent down quickly and put his hands about Elanor’s waist.

"Orophin Up? Is that my new name, Princess? You are not yet tired of your aerie and would still be one of Gwaihir’s eagles?" Laughing, he swung her up onto his shoulders.

For a hobbit child to be perched upon the shoulders of a very tall elf put her suddenly far from the ground that before had been the boundary of her world. He had done that for the first time yesterday and, instead of being afraid as her mother expected, Elanor had crowed with delight. Although, she had also taken a firm grip on Orophin’s braid just to be safe as he had run all around the large garden with her short legs dangling on each side of his neck as he held them and her laughter in his ears.

Already it was among her favorite games, and Rosie hoped the elf would not tire of it soon, for Elanor could be very firm in expressing her choices.

"Hold on tight, Princess, for your mother is coming, and I must help her carry her burdens. For she is a very great lady, and that is my duty." Orophin bent and took the basket from Rosie’s hand before she could even protest.

If this continues, I shall be worth nothing when I return to the Shire. I’ll not be expecting to carry a single thing and somehow I doubt if hobbits will be quite so insistent on helping me.

"Good morrow, Mistress Rose. You are abroad early I think? I hope that you slept well?"

"After a day running after Elanor, I seldom need to worry about sleeping soundly, Orophin! Your brothers told me I’d find you in the garden as usual, so Elanor and I have brought you second breakfast."

"Second breakfast? I know not this term. I am not so versed in the common speech as Haldir."

Rosie laughed. "Haldir didn’t know it either, and Legolas had to explain to him. It seems elves do not eat quite so frequently as we do. Second breakfast is but a meal to keep up our strength between breakfast and elevenses!"

He smiled down at her as he set the basket onto the small table in front of the bench where Rosie best liked to sit in the beautiful garden of Queen Arwen.

"It seems that elves here in Gondor eat even less than usual, or so my Sam tells me. You are still young though, Orophin, and well I remember my brothers and cousins and their appetites. Are you not hungry?"

"Hunger can be ignored if it is necessary, and there was work to be done in this garden." He smiled and turned his face slightly so that he could kiss Elanor’s knee. The child was tugging on his braid as if it were the reins of her horse. He knew she wanted to gallop and not stand talking. Soon, if he did not move, he would feel her little feet kicking softly against his collarbone in impatience.

Bless him. He’s loyal to Arwen and will never say what Sam told me this morning. Poor things! They cannot easily eat the food here. I should have noticed myself. These Gondor cooks have a heavy hand in their cooking. Lady Arwen is still young herself and does not know how to instruct her servants. Mostly, she is afraid to hurt husband if she even makes the attempt. What a mess these elves can bring upon themselves by this courtesy they are trained to observe!

"Well, it isn’t necessary this morning. You know that I am allowed in the kitchens to make proper food and enough for a hobbit child. So I thought I’d see if elves might eat what Elanor loves. Your brothers and Legolas seemed to approve when I fed them just now.Why don’t you just take Elanor for one or two runs around the garden while I set up here? I promise that my apple tarts will soon have her off your shoulders and happily eating!"

*****

"Why are your ears pointed?" Elanor sat comfortably on Orophin’s stomach, leaning back against his bent legs as he lay flat on his back on the grass. Her own stomach was full, and she was very happy. He laughed as her little finger touched the tip of his ear.

"Are your ears not pointed, little one? I thought they were." He softly touched the little pink and white ears that peeked through her golden hair. It amazed him still at how tiny this creature was and that such a little body could contain so much spirit.

"Mine are hobbit ears. They’re normal, not like yours. Yours are pointier than mine."

Oh, what is that child saying. His ears aren’t "normal"! Elanor, you are your father’s daughter. You say the first thing that comes to your head.

Rosie started to remonstrate with her daughter, but stopped before her words came. Orophin had smiled and shook his head slightly at her.

"You do not like my pointy ears, Princess? That is a sorrow to me if it be true."

"Oh, I like them, but I don’t know why they are so different from hobbit ears." She bent to kiss one of his ears. She did not want him to be sad because she wanted to know.

"Because they are elf ears. You know that I am an elf, Princess. So are my brothers and Legolas and Arwen. We are all elves, just as you and your parents are hobbits."

"But, what is an elf, Orophin? Is it better to be an elf than a hobbit or worse?"

"I have never been a hobbit, but I do not think it is either better or worse, just different, Princess. You are a hobbit, and you are my best friend, aren’t you? Did we not pledge our friendship before the Prince of Ithilien last night when I brought you to him to hear stories before bed?"

Now that was something. Nightly bedtime stories from Legolas have become a fixed star in my Elanor’s life. If he’s strong enough, she crawls into bed with the prince himself and snuggles against him. If Haldir tells her gently not to do so, she will sit just as happily upon Orophin’s lap. From either perch, she drinks in the stories of the First Born that Legolas spins for her.

Last night it had been the tale of Finrod and his great love for Beren, for whom he gave his life. It gave me shivers did that one. I never heard it before. Elanor’s eyes had widened as Finrod went bravely out to meet his doom, and she had cried when the wolf slew him. Then, Legolas had explained to her that friendship was not always easy and must never be given lightly. I think my little one understood that being a friend was something very special. To make her laugh, Rúmil had told her how a young Orophin had heard the same story from Haldir and insisted that his two brothers pledge their love and loyalty to him by a mingling of their blood. To Haldir’s complete horror, he had promptly cut himself upon Haldir’s warrior knife and made them all do the same.

Of course, that would set my Elanor down a path of her own! She announced that she and Orophin must do the same and would not be dissuaded. Orophin finally persuaded her that they would use Haldir’s knife when she was older, and she was satisfied with the smallest prick from the needle with which I was sewing. Her eyes had been huge as she watched as her elf dipped first the needle into his wine to cleanse it and then swiftly into her tiny finger before she had time to grow afraid. He cut himself more, so that Elanor would be satisfied with the seriousness of their blood oath.

Ah, and my brave little Elanor did not cry! She pressed her tiny finger to that of Orophin, and let their blood mingle as the prince bound their hands together. Legolas pronounced that their friendship was now bound by the spilling of their blood together. Then, Orophin dipped two pieces of the fine linen with which Legolas had wrapped their hands into the mingled blood and gave one piece to Elanor to keep as his pledge. The other he had folded carefully and put inside his own tunic as her own pledge. What a grown-up my Elanor felt then! She had babbled about it continually as Sam gave her a bath and tucked her into bed. When Orophin came for his final kiss, Elanor made the poor lad show her that he still had his piece of linen safe, before she would let him sing her to sleep.

"So, Princess, I think that being a hobbit is a very fine thing, for my best friend is one."

"And elves, Orophin, are they very fine things as well?"

"I think that they are, Princess." He looked down at her suddenly serious face "Why do you ask this of me, Elanor?"

"Orophin, the children of the women who work in the kitchen. . ." She looked at him, and a tear fell slowly down her cheek. "The children say that elves are evil, and that they will put a spell on you, so you will sicken and die if you cross their paths and. . ." She began to cry, and he sat up suddenly and pulled her close into his arms. "They say that the elves will cook and eat children if the winters are cold, and they are hungry."

I cannot believe what I am hearing. Look at their faces! I don’t know who needs my comfort most. He seems as if he can scarcely breathe, and I have no words to comfort him. I am not good with words! What shall I do?

"An elf would never hurt you or any child, Elanor. We shall talk of this later I promise. I promise I will come back later and speak with you. You have the blood pledge of Orophin in your keeping, and you know he cannot lie to you because you are his friend. Now, my Princess, I must seek my own family, and you must stay with your lady mother. Please, do not cry.  I love you. I always will, my little friend." He kissed her softly and gave her into her mother’s arms. Then he walked quickly away.

He’s trying to walk calmly, so he won’t frighten her more than she already is, and all he wants to do is run. I can see that. What evil has my little one heard today? How could I have left her alone to play with those children? They are only children! Where did they learn such hate?

Chapter 4 - The Lion of Lórien

Sam, my boy, I don’t think you’re supposed to be hearing this. Only, how am I going to get out of the room without it being worse for the situation than my staying right where I am? You are in a fine mess as usual.

Sam had eaten a proper lunch even by hobbit standards and taken himself off to the library afterwards. It wasn’t that he was much of a reader really. Sam had discovered that the library chairs were deep and comfortable, and that it was quiet there in the afternoons. He had found a shadowed corner behind a screen that was just perfect for a hobbit’s afternoon nap, and there he had been sleeping.

If Sam had not heard Haldir enter the library, he certainly was hearing him now. Sam woke from a pleasant dream to the loudest scream of rage he had ever heard. It almost knocked him to the floor, and his heart was still pounding. He could not believe that powerful a sound could possibly have issued from Haldir’s throat, but there seemed to be no other explanation.

For the scream had been followed by a steady stream of Sindarin, and that was certainly coming out of Haldir’s mouth now. Sam couldn’t follow it clearly, because it was very rapid, and most of the words were new to him. Still, he was sure it was cursing. He had not even known that the courteous elves had a vocabulary for cursing! It appeared that perhaps they did and quite an impressive one at that.

Sam moved slowly and carefully on his screened couch and found that he could now see the others in the room without being seen by them.

Haldir was standing by the window. His hand was on one of his knives, and he was still cursing. But, a coldness was now creeping into his voice that was even more frightening than the scream had been.

Rúmil sat on the couch nearest the desk where Haldir had apparently been working. He had both arms around Orophin and seemed to be rocking him almost as Sam did with Elanor when she was frightened.

Is Orophin afraid of his brother? I can’t believe that. Rúmil doesn’t seem to be. He’s not even flinching. Just sitting there as if waiting for Haldir to regain control.

"Are you finished now, brother?" Rúmil stared up at his oldest brother without any fear in his eyes. "I think Orophin has probably been through enough today listening to such vileness. Now you have turned into a berserk orc right in front of him. Although, it was quite impressive, Haldir. I’d forgotten just how impressive you can be when you are in a towering rage. I’m sure you curse better than any healer that ever lived, in fact almost as well as a captain of the Northern Border."

"This is not funny, Rúmil."

"I know that. My way is to laugh. I shall probably laugh at my own death in battle. Yours is usually to grow too quiet. Orophin is the only sane one among us, as well you know." Rúmil smiled at his younger brother. "Now that you are done sceaming, what would you have us do?"

"We are leaving this place in the morning. We will take Legolas with us."

"Bringing Legolas here from the caves almost killed him, Haldir. Only his own desperation to be away from them made you risk that much. Moving him again would kill him. Are you going to let the words of ignorant mortals kill our friend? Are you going to let them succeed after you have fought so hard to save Legolas’ life? Their words are not worth that great a price."

"When did you grow so wise, little brother? No, we cannot leave." Haldir sat down next to them and wearily rubbed his face. "Perhaps Legolas has more need of a March Captain than even a healer at this moment."

Haldir shook his head and thought again of the secret letter he had received from Radagast. "I fear more than the ignorant words of children. This place is safe for none of us, and we will act accordingly. Is Gimli with Legolas now?"

Rúmil nodded. "He seldom leaves him in the afternoon, and today Legolas has been in much pain. Gimli will not leave him."

Haldir thought silently for a few more moments before speaking.

"Rúmil, I fear to put you in great danger. I wish I could go myself, but I must stay with Legolas. You must ride to Ithilien and bring back enough of our people to protect Legolas. I will no longer trust to the soldiers of Gondor or any mortal save Gimli. I know neither their hearts, nor their minds. We will trust only our own."

"What would you have me say to them?"

"Go to Gilúviel and say that he must come himself with his warriors. Aragorn cannot refuse him entrance to his brother or refuse him the right to post a guard. Imrahil still abides with us and for this I am glad. He will stand guard for us in Ithilien. Imrahil we can still trust and must do so. He must be made aware of everything, Rúmil, but no other mortal."

Haldir’s face grew sad for a moment, but he hardened it with his will. "Do not tell the queen what we do, and say nothing to any other mortal save Gimli, brother. This includes Aragorn if you encounter him before you leave. Avoid him if you can."

Rúmil nodded. Long had he fought under his brother’s command. He trusted the instincts of his brother that had kept him alive even when he did not understand them. He would obey Haldir in all.

"Rúmil, say to Gilúviel to make it clear to our people that the danger is real and very near. Contact with Gondor is to cease as much as we can. None must travel here alone or in too small a group. Ithilien is to be closed to them if Gilúviel agrees."

"He will agree, Haldir. You know he wanted to bring elves to guard his brother from the start. Arwen feared that her King would take offense and dissuaded him. She said Tingalen was with child and needed him more than his brother. She would care for Legolas." Rúmil almost spat out the last words, and his face was hard.

"Aye, but that is the past. Legolas also urged his brother to stay with Tingalen. We must not judge her heart for it is still dark to me. Let it go, brother." Haldir touched the face of Rúmil. His brothers had never had the chance to be young as he had once so long ago. The shadows had come too soon for that.

"Ride now and ride hard. Take Arod for he is still swift, and his wisdom is great. Tell Legolas’ brave horse that you ride for his master’s life. He will carry you safely for me as he carried Legolas through the Paths of the Dead."

Rúmil rose to go and make his preparations.

"Brother, have care that no men approach close enough to harm you on this journey. Be wary ever of men and even their wives and their children. From Ithilien, send word to Celeborn of what is happening. Radagast has also written to him. I will not risk it from here where my letter may too easily go astray. Let Celeborn judge what to do with Thranduil. Now, go!"

Rúmil embraced both of his brothers and swiftly ran from the room.

*****

"Orophin, we are few and they are many. Until Rúmil returns with Gilúviel, you and I with Gimli alone must guard Legolas and each other."

"Gimli will wish to include Aragorn."

"Not after I speak to him. I think no ill of Aragorn until I have proof, but this is his kingdom. He should know better the minds of all his folk, even the lowest. One of them threw that torch in the caves. His own kitchen staff teach their children that we are evil. Orophin, Aragorn has not control of this kingdom. Poisoning minds is but a short step to poisoning bodies."

Haldir began to gather his papers from the desk and Orophin rose to help him.

"I would trust Samwise, but he also is loyal to Aragorn. I have not the right to ask him to view his own friend with suspicion until we know better."

"You would ask Gimli to do so."

"Gimli’s greatest love will always be to Legolas. He will choose him above any of us if he has to do so. The hobbit they speak of who sailed with the Last Riding was that to Sam, not Legolas. It is enough that Mistress Rose will prepare our food for us."

Haldir felt anger rise in him again and willed it back into coldness. "Even were it palatable, I would no longer eat anything that came from that kitchen and its foulness."

He laughed bitterly. "They might decide to serve us a baby, nicely stewed for our pleasure. Isn’t that what we relish best, little brother?" Haldir’s face was as hard and cold as Caradhras, and he hugged his brother to him fiercely. Orophin felt some of that cold ferocity enter his own gentle soul. The war had been leaving his face, but now it returned. Orophin’s face was once again old.

"Legolas will eat nothing prepared by anyone other than ourselves or Mistress Rose. We shall draw his water and bring it to him ourselves. Nothing he eats or drinks must be out of our sight. We shall take the same precaution for ourselves. Gimli must decide for himself. Legolas is so weak that the smallest amount of poison would quickly take him."

"We will keep him safe, Haldir. We love him. Love is still stronger than hate."

Haldir wished he could believe as his brother. "I hope so, little one. If we are fools to be so cautious, it is better to be living fools. It will be a big job for the three of us, Orophin, but we have no right to involve Sam."

Something entered into Sam’s heart at that moment, and he could not resist it. He rose from the couch and came from behind the screen. Then, he took a deep breath and said simply.

"Maybe if you told him what was going on, you wouldn’t have to ask Sam?"

Author’s Note:

Mîr-Gilúviel:  Jewel of Giluv’s Daughter
Haldir:  Tall Watcher
Legolas:  Green Leaf
Thranduilion:  Son of Thranduil
Tingalen:  Maiden of Green
Fuin:  Deep Shadow, Darkness
 ______________

Chapter 5 - Ithilien Rides

Rosie sat in the forecourt of the castle with her daughter. Elanor missed Orophin desperately, and Rosie hoped that the new sights that they could see here would distract her from wanting his presence. Elanor did seem interested in the comings and goings of the City before her, but her face was still sad.

You were so good when Haldir asked if you would give Orophin to Legolas for a little while. He explained to you how sick Legolas was and how he needed your blood friend with him always for a time. You were generous, my little one, and I am proud of you. My heart all but burst with joy in you when you took Orophin’s hand and led him over to the prince. Legolas cried when you gave him Orophin, and so did I. That was the last that he spoke to us, for ever since has the prince lain in pain and darkness and known none who love him. Orophin and I have shielded you from him since, my daughter, for we love you. We would not have you see the gentle one who told you stories battle against his death.

And, Legolas, who loves you, also must remain in your mind as a gentle presence and not the dying terror of your dreams. Oh, Elanor, how shall I tell you if he dies? Where will I find the words if this golden light departs, and your Orophin follows it? They are bound so tightly together, my daughter. Where shall you find your comfort if both depart? Will you follow them and be lost to me and your father? Elanor, who best holds your heart?

"Look, Elanor! In the distance there is dust rising and look now you can now see horses approaching. A lot of horses, Elanor! Look how swiftly they run towards the City’s gates!"

She had climbed up with Elanor to a vantage point that Gimli had made for them, so that they could observe the roads beyond the City and all of the forecourt. Gimli had laughed as he built it and told them how men and elves oft forgot the stature of their most honored guests, the dwarves and the hobbits. Here was even a special perch just for Elanor, which Gimli had named the Throne of Elanor, Princess of Ithilien. "Gimli’s Aerie" had Legolas dubbed the retreat when they carried him to inspect it, and the name had stuck even as Legolas had so loved it.

Here had ever Gimli borne Legolas, so that the air might caress his body and that he might feel the warmth of Anar upon his face. Here the two oft sat alone in the twilight or with only Elanor to join them. Here sought Legolas ever the light of Eärendil. Here he found the strength of Gimli and could surrender his own fight and rest in the strong arms of the dwarf.

From this safe haven that friendship built, Rosie watched now with Elanor the approaching horses.

*****

Ithilien’s warriors rode through the poorest sections of the City in their approach to the forecourt of Elessar. They gave no sign that a mortal could read, but their vigilence had increased. No mortal escaped their observation. Their ranks moved closer together behind their prince, and their bows were no longer upon their backs. They held them ready in their hands.

Elves. So many of them. The mortals drew back against the walls in fear and wonder. The mothers hid their children behind their skirts, and the men muttered among themselves.

Yet not even the bravest dared accost the riders. Their eyes saw that these were not the gentle traders and artisans of the hated colony of Ithilien. Those elves they saw no longer in their streets, and they wondered at it.

These elves were different. These were warriors and such as these they had never seen in this part of the City. Ithilien had ever before sought peace with the City of Aragorn. For the first time, these men of Gondor watched the fierce riders of the elves as they passed, and they held their tongues and were afraid of the evil words that had brought these warriors.

Each rider was dressed in elven armor, and such also had the men in this part of the city never seen. It was strange to them and made them think of the magic of the people that could curse them and their children. Upon the backs of the elves they saw quivers of arrows and knives of war, not of hunting. These faces laughed not, and the eyes of the elves were grim. The elves of Ithilien thought now only of Legolas, and there was no mercy in them for aught that was Gondor.

At the head of the great company, rode a tall elf upon a black stallion. His hair was as black as the stallion and upon his head he wore a circlet of beaten gold and mithril entwined as vines and adorned with leaves of gold, bronze and mithril and set with small red stones, like berries that flashed in the sunlight. A long cloak of greyed-green velvet streamed behind him and was held at his neck with a simple leaf-shaped brooch, and his tunic was brown. He looked not at the men of Gondor as he rode past and yet he saw them all, and they were afraid.

*****

Aragorn stood upon the threshhold of his castle. Word had been brought to him at the first sighting of the riding of the elves. He was angry, and yet he knew he could not show it. Before him astride the great black horse was a prince of the Woodland Realm, a son of its king and brother to Legolas. That Legolas lay near death gave this elf rights Aragorn could not forbid. He was the brother of the one for whose life Aragorn was held accountable, and he represented their father. Thranduil, Aragorn knew, could yet command alliances that could lay waste to the still struggling kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan combined. If Thranduil claimed his rights through this prince, Gondor must give him its hospitality and allow him what he willed. The wise serpent Haldir had known this.

"I, Mîr-Gilúviel Thranduilion, give you greeting, Elessar Telcontar." Aragorn heard that the elf deliberately gave the most simple of his titles. The title that bound him to Thranduil as his child with the name that bound his birth mother’s child to her. Never before had Aragorn heard it, but Arwen’s heart ached at the memory of the elven mother it brought. The one who had held her babe once before she surrendered to her grief and left him then to abide alone in Arda.

Gilúviel had dismounted and approached Aragorn. Fuin wore no bridle or saddle and stood with no one holding him. Never did the proud animal take his eyes from his master and ever was he still and watchful. His sharp hooves would be the first to strike the one who touched his prince. The dark elf bowed low to the king of Gondor, who returned his greeting.

"You bring honor to us as your presence graces our home, Gilúviel, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and Steward of Ithilien. Your journey’s end brings us joy at the sight of you. Too long have we been apart. Your lady fares well?"

"She is well and sends her greetings to you and the Lady Arwen, her friend. She bid me say to you that her prayers are for the lifting of the shadow yet again. Also she bade me to deliver this letter into Queen Arwen’s hands alone."

The prince’s eyes sought for the queen, and Arwen came forward to greet him. He ached in his heart for the pain in her eyes, but Gilúviel did not weaken in his resolve.

"Tingalen sends thanks to you, lady, for your kindness in sending gifts for our unborn child. You have honored us and the coming child."

"She is well? There is no trouble that comes upon her in these last months?"

For one brief moment, Gilúviel’s face softened as he thought of his lady and their child that she carried. Arwen saw again the gentle face of the dark elf she had so long known.

Then, Arwen saw that loved face harden again, and her heart ached. Gilúviel was ever gentle, yet her guilty eyes thought she saw him turn his face from her, and she saw not his pity or his sorrow. She was alone now among men she thought. She took the letter he handed her and returned his bow as Elrond had taught her. In other times, they would have embraced.

"She is well still, lady, and her joy at the child is great. I thank you for your concern." Gilúviel’s aching heart turned from Arwen and her sorrow. He must care for his brother.

"Where is Haldir? I would see him, King Elessar."

Before Aragorn could reply, the Captain of the Galadhrim appeared from the shadows of the doorway and made his way to the prince. His grey eyes sought for a moment the eyes of his own brother still mounted upon Arod and standing beside Fuin. His heart let go of its fear as he beheld Rúmil’s quick smile and nod to him. Still Haldir saw that, as ever, Rúmil did behold Arwen alone and with anger cutting his heart, and for that the healer knew there was no cure apart from themselves.

"Gilúviel, thy coming I have too long awaited. Be welcome, my friend." The two embraced and for a moment were silent in each other’s arms.

"Legolas?"

"He lies in a drugged sleep against his pain, but he still lives. Now you are here, I have more hope. Ever were you half of his strength, Gilúviel." Haldir kissed the forehead of the prince as he did oft with his own brothers. "He bade me give that to you for him when you arrived, Gilúviel, if he could not."

Son of Thranduil, ever trained in guarding his actions, Gilúviel pulled back from Haldir, and turned to Aragorn. His face betrayed none of the turmoil within him.

"King Elessar, I would be taken to my brother. Elves shall I bring to guard him as bids his father and my liege. This you will permit?"

Aragorn had no choice. It mattered not whether Thranduil really knew or not. If Gilúviel his son but said he did, then must Aragorn treat it as the king’s own will.

"The men of Gondor would willingly die for your prince."

"One of Gondor has brought him to this pass. Thranduil would have elves."

Chapter 6 - The Bonds of Friendship

"Eldarion, would you pay attention to what I am telling you? If you continue as you do, you will inevitably shoot Elanor with that arrow, and I am then quite certain that Orophin will be obliged to kill you. He is a mild elf, but he has his limits. By the Valar, Eldarion, you pull a bow as badly as your father!" Rúmil glared at his rather inept pupil, and cursed the day he had agreed to help teach this pup to use a bow. Eldarion’s face was red at the insult to his skill and his father.

"My father is a great warrior! He is a king!"

"Aye, he is a great warrior. . .with a sword. With a sword, I would not do battle with your father. With a bow, we are lucky if he can provide the occasional coney for the stewpot. Why do you think he has cursed elves with your instruction? Legolas, I vow that the minute you are well, you shall resume this burden!"

Sensing that tempers were rapidly reaching a flashpoint, Orophin grinned and handed Elanor to Rosie. He walked slowly over to the frustrated child and crouched beside him and winked so that only Eldarion could see.

"Oh, he is not so bad as all that, brother. I grant you that Aragorn is hopeless, but his mother is elven, and she draws a bow quite nicely." Orophin grinned at the boy and put his arms around him on the pretense of adjusting his grip on the small bow Legolas had fashioned for him. "Perhaps part of his problem is that he has a cave troll to teach him today?" Eldarion shrank back against Orophin as Rúmil whirled around and glared at his brother. Orophin merely laughed. "Oh, don’t glare at me, Orc Brother! I have been glared at by Haldir for a thousand years, and your fell face is as nothing to what he can produce."

"You call me an orc, loved brother? A cave troll?"

"Perhaps I was wrong? Uruk would be more accurate?" Rúmil glared at his younger brother for exactly two more seconds. Then, he began to laugh. In all their lives together, neither he nor Haldir had ever been able to long resist the open face and heart of their little brother. "You are right. I am an orc today. But NOT a cave troll, little one. I draw the line at that."

"I will grant then that perhaps I mistook me when I did say cave troll. Pray accept my apologies, Brother Uruk."

"You do recall that you are the baby of our family and owe me respect?" Rúmil growled in mock anger.

"Aye, I am the baby, although you were perhaps two inches shorter than I when last Haldir measured?"

"Height is not everything, Brother Longshanks. Who is it that always has to rescue you?" Softly, Rúmil touched the loved face of his brother. His anger and impatience with Eldarion had been forgotten. He felt his heart heal if only a little as he looked into Orophin’s eyes and saw there understanding of what drove his anger.

"You do, Rúmil, and I do love you so for it. You are a good orc to your baby brother. You are a good orc to us all." He smiled up innocently with his arms still around Eldarion. The child had begun to relax and smile again as he listened to the brothers tease one another in love.

Eldarion was a lonely child. He oft wished for a brother or even a playmate. The boys of Gondor seemed not to wish his company, and his adults were so often busy. Gondor was still recovering from the evil of Sauron. It demanded much from his father’s time and his mother’s heart. Sometimes, it seemed to him that the only ones who noticed him were the elves of Ithilien. The elves and now the hobbits.

Eldarion was glad that the hobbits had come visiting. Elanor had become a baby sister for him to carry, a small and precious being who thought Eldarion was brave and strong. Orophin said she carried Arda’s sunshine in her heart, and Eldarion agreed.

Sam had taught him to make rope and do many humble tasks that were still important. And, Sam had been patient with his mistakes. Eldarion had already decided that when he was grown he would be a gardener just like Sam. That would be better than being the king of Gondor.

But his favorite was Rosie. Rosie was always laughing, and she baked wonderful things for the children and elves to eat. She let him and Orophin steal tarts from the table and pretended she never counted right.

Once, she had even let Orophin lead him jumping onto and over the newly made beds as they sought the corsairs of Umbar, who had captured the fair Princess Elanor. Indeed, she had laughingly come running to rescue poor Sam from their fury. For as the last remaining corsair, her Sam was in a fair way to losing his hobbit life from the flanking assault of the two warriors of Elanor. Rosie the Istar had calmly proposed lunch, and the great battle had ceased amid deep concern from the warriors for Sam’s bumped head and bruises.

And, Rosie always had time for the son of Gondor’s king. She stroked his hair and kissed him dozens of times each day and straightened his tunic when he tussled with Elanor. She fretted aloud that he was too thin, despite Orophin’s assurances that all elflings were thin. She worried about him, and Eldarion thought that must mean she loved him. He worried about his father and mother, and he loved them so much. They were busy, though, and important. He was only a small part of their lives.

His own mother was so sad lately. Eldarion hesitated to bring her his problems. He had told her once that the other boys of Gondor made fun of him and laughed at his ears. She had cried so, that Eldarion had felt guilty. He was brave. He was Aragorn’s son. He must not trouble his mother with his small problems.

Besides, he told himself, Legolas and all the Galadhrim who stood as his uncles had the same ears as he did. He did not remember his grandfather or his real uncles. They had come when he was a baby, a long time ago to him. Eldarion thought their ears were probably pointed too. The twins were supposed to look like his mother and hers were. He wondered if his grandfather Elrond would have loved him had he stayed to see him grow. That thought troubled him, and he pushed it away. Elrond had fought with Gil-Galad at Dagorlad. He had always been brave. Eldarion wished he knew what Elrond looked like.

No one dared laugh at any of these tall elves. When he was grown, Eldarion vowed these boys of Gondor would no longer laugh at him. He would be too great a warrior then. He didn’t like Gondor. He wished he were able to leave.

Perhaps Ada would honor his great-grandfather’s request that he be allowed to visit? Eldarion hoped so. Celeborn’s ears were pointed, and none laughed at him. Besides, he told such wonderful stories, and let Eldarion creep into bed beside him at night. Sometimes, Eldarion lay on top of him, and his whole body would shake when Celeborn laughed. He liked that great booming laugh, and the way the wise hands stroked his hair and his back as he lay there.

Here in Gondor, only Legolas when he visited would allow Eldarion into his bed. Eldarion sometimes crept to his friend’s bedside, afraid of the night. Legolas was brave, and he always made Eldarion feel brave, or at least braver.

Legolas never laughed when told a cave troll might be under the bed. Instead, he would quickly hand Eldarion one of his white knives and grasp the other himself. Then he would hiss to Eldarion to be silent as they crouched and crept carefully to check the sleeping chamber for the fell beast. Legolas said a warrior who took such precautions would live to fight in the next battle, and he praised Eldarion for bringing this grave matter to his attention.

When the troll had been banished, he would take Eldarion into his arms and hold him, telling stories or singing until he made Eldarion fall asleep. And in the morning, Legolas would still be holding him, and Eldarion would feel the brave elf’s quiet breathing as his own cheek was pillowed on Legolas’ chest. He would drink in the smell of the grown elf, a smell of the woodlands somewhere far from Gondor, a smell of courage and wisdom that comforted Eldarion as he buried his face deeper into the sleeping elf’s warm body.

Then, Legolas’ eyes would come into focus, and he would smile at the small one burrowed beside him. Eldarion loved that first sleepy smile that his friend would give him. It meant that his presence was cherished, and that here he was home.

And now, Legolas was so ill that he might die. Eldarion pushed that thought quickly from him. Elves did not die. They were immortal. Legolas was the strongest and the fairest elf in Ithilien. Eldarion knew this was so. Legolas could never die. Legolas must always be there to sing for him. To tell him stories. To laugh and run with him through the forests. Legolas must be there to call the birds to them and tell him stories of his mother as a child. Legolas just was to Eldarion. He could not live without him. He knew that.

Now though, all the grown ones in his life were keeping him from the side of his friend. They thought him not brave enough to be there. They thought the sight of his friend in such pain would frighten Eldarion.

Eldarion remembered the tale that Legolas had oft told Elanor and him, the tale of Finrod and Beren. It was one of his favorites. Finrod had been brave and met his end for his friend. Always in his mind, the boy knew that Legolas was Finrod. Courage was in all of the bones of his friend. He would gladly meet his doom for Eldarion.

In Orophin’s arms, the child of Aragorn drew himself up and lifted his head in determination. He knew his path.

"Rúmil, you once said that if I ever hit the center of the target, you would give me whatever I wanted. Was that true?" Rúmil really had been a cave troll this day, and Eldarion’s heart beat so hard in his chest as he asked that he was sure the grown elf would hear it.

Startled, Rúmil looked at the boy’s face. Had he made this child so afraid of him today? Orophin’s eyes told him that he had, and Rúmil cursed himself. He had not meant to be unkind. Gently, he touched the boy’s shoulder.

"It was true, Eldarion, if it be something in my power to grant you. Do you think that you can do it?"

He was not sure at all. Still, Eldarion squared his thin shoulders and drew himself out of Orophin’s arms. He stood straight and still and held his breath as he had been taught by Legolas. Carefully, he drew back the bowstring. He thought of what he so wanted and let the arrow fly.

Rosie laughed and applauded, and he heard Elanor clapping her own tiny hands. Orophin was smiling at him, and that gave Eldarion the courage to look.

His arrow was dead center in the target. He looked up at Rúmil and, to his surprise, his stern teacher bowed his head to his skill.

"A fine shot, Eldarion. You have done well. What reward would you claim?"

"I want to visit Legolas. He needs me. I am his friend"

Author’s Note:

Mîr-Gilúviel: Jewel of Giluv's Daughter
Legolas: Green Leaf
Haldir: Tall Watcher
Hirglor: River of Golden Light
Fuin: Deep Shadow, Darkness
Talan: Open living platform built by the Galadhrim in the mellyrn trees.
Adar: Father

Huan: The Hound of Valinor, one of the hunting dogs of Oromë. He was born in Valinor, but his ownership passed to Celegorm, and he followed him to Beleriand. There he fell under the Doom of the Noldor with his new master. Huan’s devotion to Lúthien is legend, and he died in her and Beren’s service. Morgoth had bred the great wolf Carcharoth for no purpose but to slay the great hound. In killing Carcharoth, Huan met his own doom.

For Nilmandra’s elf, some plot development, but also a small island of cheerfulness and total lunacy in the form of a letter from Pippin. All this amidst a sea of angst! There is always hope. . .and Pippin!

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Chapter 7 - Shire Interlude

Almost two weeks had passed since Eldarion had first come to Legolas’ chambers. Haldir knew that the change in the cycle of what ailed the gentle elf had been coming before, but still in his heart did he bless the child’s comfort to his friend.

Eldarion came faithfully each day and sat next to the bed. He studied his lessons there if Legolas slept and talked quietly to him if he woke. Often, Haldir heard the boy telling stories to Legolas and singing songs or reading aloud. He saw Legolas focus his mind on the boy’s voice and knew that this helped him fight the evil that had befallen his body. And, with Eldarion there, Haldir could, at times, convince Gilúviel to take rest for his own body.

Three times since that day in the caves had this happened. The evil seemed ever to bring Legolas to the brink of his death and then depart to allow the shadow of a false healing to begin.

Haldir cursed the foulness of this. He knew in his heart that the surcease would end, and Legolas would again fall into torment. Yet, he was also glad at this respite, for he had felt his friend’s soul slipping from him in the last week of the struggle, the week that Eldarion had first come to Legolas.

Now, both Gurth and Legolas were stronger. Pain there was, but it was such that Haldir could control more. His patients now could sit up a little, and Haldir allowed them more company to ease the weariness of their confinement.

He had come to give the two the draughts of healing he had prepared. Legolas took them patiently, but the child always complained of the taste. He took them, but he complained.

"Be still, Gurth! If they taste foul, they give you relief. The elf does not complain, does he?" Haldir had learned that this was effective with Gurth. The child strove ever to do better than any elf. Glaring at Haldir, the boy swallowed the medicine.

Haldir gave the child water and honey to take the taste from his mouth, and then bowed his head to Sulka.

She returned the bow, and that was his signal that her permission to tend her son was given. He did nothing without it. Sulka listened to Haldir’s cool voice and watched him as he worked.

"Mistress Rose will soon bring food to Legolas and your son. With her, I have allowed Elanor and your daughter Ilika to come visit here. They have promised to be quiet and behave, and I have trusted them. With them will also come my brothers and Sam." Carefully, Haldir’s long fingers continued to clean Gurth’s wounds and apply a fresh bandage.

"Mistress Rose tells me Ilika would ever be by Elanor, and they are almost become as sisters. Would you have me move your son to where the others will sit? The decision rests with you."

"Please, Sulka, join us." Gilúviel’s voice was gentle, never harsh as Haldir’s could be with the woman. "It would give me and my brother pleasure to know you a little." He smiled at the woman.

Gilúviel understood Haldir’s wariness. He also still watched the mortals closely when they were near Legolas. Gilúviel wore a knife at his belt and kept his sharp dagger hidden in his boot. His bow and quiver were close by at all times. They stood next to Haldir’s and close by Legolas’ bed. Two guards of Ithilien stood watch in the corridor. His brother was never unprotected.

Still, Gilúviel knew that Haldir’s fierceness made Sulka afraid. She did not know him as they did. She did not recognize that his harshness was only anger at what he could not heal. Anger and fear for Legolas’ safety.

Gilúviel had seen Sulka’s eyes warily watching the tall healer and seeing the knife that was ever at his belt. Sulka knew it was not a knife of healing. She had seen Haldir sit sharpening it during the night. In the light of the lamps, she saw the strange elven script that curved down the terrible blade and gave it power against even a morgul weapon of evil. His father had given this knife to Haldir when he first became a scout for Celeborn, and it never left him. Sulka did not like that this knife was so often near her son’s body.

Gilúviel knew that Haldir had become fond of Gurth, admiring the child’s courage and stubborn will to live. His spirit was very like the healer’s, though neither could see it.

Gilúviel could. He had seen the tall healer stroke the sleeping boy’s hair in the long nights he watched over those under his care. His fingers were then as gentle as a father with his own child. Only when Sulka was absent and the child asleep, would Haldir show this gentleness openly. Before her, he was ever cold and aloof, although ever kind to her son. She had never seen him smile.

So, Gilúviel smiled at the woman for Haldir. They shared many long hours alone, and he knew her grief and fear for her son. He felt the same for his brother. He also felt her loneliness among the strangers with whom she must now dwell. He pitied her. Here, he had those who loved him and gave him support. She was alone.

Sulka looked at Gurth and saw that he was eager but would let her decide. She nodded to him. "Thank you. Gurth would like to join you. I will keep him company."

Gilúviel bowed his head formally. "My lady, you do us honor. Let me assist you."

With Haldir, he moved comfortable chairs closer to Legolas’ bed. One they padded with extra pillows and to this one Haldir carried Gurth and placed him carefully. Gilúviel covered the boy’s legs with a light blanket and drew a table closer where he could place his food. Sulka’s chair they placed next to this. The chairs were situated so that the boy and his mother had a clear view of the elf lying propped up in his bed, watching them.

Sulka’s heart twisted in pain as she now beheld Legolas. In her concern for her own son, she had never before looked closely at the brother of Gilúviel. Always she hurried in her passing to Gurth’s bedside.

The face was still beautiful, almost ethereal. No pain could destroy that completely Sulka thought. Yet, there was the shadow of so much suffering about him, and he was achingly thin. There was joy, though, in the light eyes that looked back at her. Today Legolas was happy with the warm sun upon his face through the window and the prospect of seeing his friends. He would let the morrow bring what it might. Today he would enjoy as the gift that it was. He smiled at the woman of Gondor and her child.

"We have yet to be introduced to each other. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, of the Woodland Realm." The voice of the elf was very soft, for Legolas was still so weak that talking tired him quickly. He let others talk and enjoyed listening to them.

"Gurth, son of Adros, of Gondor. My mother is Sulka."

Legolas inclined his head to them. "I am honored to meet you and your lady mother."

"The honor is ours, my lord." Gurth almost grinned at Haldir’s face. He had learned to read the healer somewhat and saw that he was surprised that Gurth knew the courteous forms.

Gurth had been studying Gilúviel’s actions carefully through the weeks. Ever did the elf conduct himself with the same courtesy to all, even the servants who cleaned the chambers. Gurth knew he was a prince and this puzzled him.

The first day Gilúviel had arrived in these chambers, he had come into the room wearing a crown more beautiful than anything Gurth had seen in his life. The boy remembered how the jewels in the crown had glowed as the sunlight struck them, like living things. If he was a prince, though, why did he not act proudly as Denethor the Steward had?

Every day, Gurth had seen this prince carry heavy buckets of water for the little maiden who scrubbed the floors and quiet her protests that a great prince should assist her. He would smile and give her the sweets that Sam ever brought to the elves, not realizing how little they cared for them.

Rosie brought apples or dried fruits, and these did Gilúviel take gladly, saving the sweets for the little maid Elwith and Elanor and Ilika. Gilúviel had learned quickly to ever keep a few sweets for Elanor in his tunic. Hobbits he’d learned were always hungry.

Gilúviel had been careful the first time they met to ask Elwith her name and used it always to address her. This was what he had been taught by Thranduil. Among elves, all work had beauty if done well, and respect was accorded the worker. He did not know that such was unknown here in Gondor. The maid had never before been called "Mistress Elwith" by one of her betters nor had Gurth heard it either. The boy had thought long on this as he watched the elf.

Such things were a mystery to the boy, but he watched all the more closely because of that. In his long weeks in these chambers, Gurth’s mind had grown hungry to learn of things beyond Gondor. He found he liked the dark prince more each day, although he knew well he should not let himself like elves. Adros, his father, would not be pleased with that.

*****

Look at that! He’s eaten at least half of the chicken I put on his plate and all of the green vegetables. He’s even tried to eat the potatoes, although I know he doesn’t really care for them. Haldir’s idea that Eldarion could get Legolas to eat was a good one. He doesn’t want the boy to worry, so he pushes himself.

Rosie watched as Eldarion cut cake for Legolas. It was the plainest cake Rosie knew how to make, but the elf shook his head politely.

"I am sorry, Mistress Rose, it does not sit well within me if I eat such things. Forgive me. I am sure it is delicious."

"Legolas, there’s nothing to forgive. Eldarion will be glad to eat your share of cake I’m sure, Gurth will take Haldir’s and my Sam, Gilúviel's. For you three, I’ve baked apples with nuts and berries. Orophin and Rúmil seem to be the only elves who will eat sweets!"

Gratefully, Haldir and Legolas accepted the apples.  Gilúviel left even the fruit, for he ate rarely after his meal.  The elves were polite and saw no reason to tell the kind hobbit that, as a seasoned warrior of the Galadhrim, Rúmil would eat cram without complaint if it were placed before him as what was available.

Orophin might actually like the sweets. Haldir and Legolas wondered at this greatly. That long body did seem to crave more food than theirs.  It did not seem elf-like somehow.

Haldir and Legolas ate their apples and ignored the sweetened cream that was put beside them for their use. Instead, they ate a little of the cheese that Tingalen had sent from Ithilien.

I shall never understand elves completely. My Sam and any hobbit would have layered that fruit with that lovely cream. Still, I’m just glad he’s eating. I wish Elanor were as eager for her vegetables as these elves. Still, she’ll eat them for Orophin. I don’t know how he does it. Look at him with his harem beside him!

Rosie looked fondly at Orophin sitting cross-legged on the floor. As soon as he had finished eating, Elanor and Ilika had both clambered onto his lap and were snuggled against him happily. He was now wiping sweet cream and cake crumbs from their faces with his own napkin. As usual, the girls had lost their own.

Sulka watched her daughter in silent amazement. She had been little able to be with her and had trusted Rosie with her care. Of all she had met in Minas Tirith, only Rosie did Sulka trust completely. There was only goodness in this hobbit woman. She seemed strange to Sulka, who had never known her kind before, but she could not help but trust Rosie.

Now, Sulka watched as her daughter joined the hobbit girl in the lap of that very tall elf they called Orophin. Sulka knew that this one and the one called Rúmil were the younger brothers of the healer. They came to the chambers often to speak to him or sit with Legolas. They never spoke to her directly, but she did not expect it.

Her child and the hobbit looked as if they belonged there in the elf’s lap. She saw her daughter touch the braids of the elf. Ilika seemed fascinated with their silver color and softness, and she watched as Elanor insisted on putting one of the flowers they had brought for Legolas in Orophin’s braid.

This had made Rúmil cry out with mock hurt that he was being neglected as were Gilúviel, Legolas and Haldir. In true remorse, the girls had quickly gathered flowers, and now each elf would have a flower with its stem carefully threaded through the weavings of their side braids. Even Haldir must wear one said Elanor.

Sulka watched in amazement as the small Elanor demanded imperiously that the healer kneel before her because she couldn’t reach him. Haldir had knelt to her at once.

"What color do you want, Haldir? Blue is pretty with silver hair. I gave Gilúviel the red because it is so nice against his black braid."

"I shall trust to your judgment, Princess. Blue I shall have, just as you have given Legolas for his gold hair. Why does Orophin have yellow? His hair is as silver as mine."

"Orophin says he must always wear the color of his princess’ hair. He is my esquire!"

"Ah, that is true. I had forgotten the rules of flowers. And Ilika has given Rúmil a purple one for his courage in battle no doubt?" Ilika nodded happily at his notice.

"It is fortunate that our ladies are so wise and carry this knowledge in their heads. We are grateful to you." Haldir continue to kneel patiently as the tiny fingers threaded the flower stem into his hair. Haldir’s hair was very fine but there was a lot of it, and her small fingers struggled a little. Haldir waited for her to do it herself. Elanor was very independent. Finally, she viewed him with satisfaction.

It had been a long time since Elanor had seen Haldir and Legolas. Rosie and Orophin had carefully explained to the girls that they must not hug Legolas or bump against him because it would hurt him. So, Elanor had been very careful threading the blue flower through his golden braid and had let Gilúviel help her just a little. Softly, she had kissed Legolas cheek and told him she loved him, but she had not hugged him. Elanor still badly wanted a hug.

Suddenly, she found herself swung up into Haldir’s strong arms and around in several full circles. She laughed with delight. "Princess, do you know I am a healer?"

"Yes, and my Da says you are the best healer since Master Elrond. I don’t know of him, but Da says he saved Mr. Frodo’s life."

"He is a very great elf, and he did teach me much that I know. He and my Lady Galadriel left their knowledge with me, and it was a great gift that I can never repay fully. Do you know that healers have rules they must follow?" She shook her head.

"Well, they do, and one of the firmest rules is that a healer is required to distribute the hugs that his patient cannot." He hugged Elanor close. "That hug was from your Legolas, and this one is from me." Elanor buried her face happily in Haldir’s neck and kissed him all over his face.

Watching the children, Sulka saw now what she had never seen before. Haldir suddenly smiled at the young one in his arms, and his stern face softened and was bathed in the child’s light.

*****

Look at how anxious he is to hear his letters. The messenger had brought them this afternoon all the way from the Shire, and Haldir had promised Legolas that after he ate someone would read them to him. I think Haldir thought Legolas would forget to eat if given his letters first.

Rosie smiled fondly at Legolas and straightened the cover over him. He had just drunk the last of the draught Haldir had brought and rinsed his mouth against its taste. Haldir said it would keep the food he had eaten within him, but Legolas worried for a moment that it might do just the opposite. He wanted to hear those letters and willed his stomach to stop churning at the vile taste that had just hit it. For a wonder, it did. He let himself breathe again.

Rosie smoothed the golden hair in her motherly way as she sat in Gilúviel’s normal place. Legolas’ brother lay now on the carpeted floor with his dark head pillowed on Haldir’s lap. From there, he could still watch the face of his brother. It had been a long time since Gilúviel and the healer had been able to relax even to this small extent.

Idly, Haldir stroked the black head on his lap, careful not to disturb the red flower of Elanor as he did so. Sulka had never seen affection so openly displayed among men in Gondor. Elves were strange creatures to her. They touched each other so often, as if somehow drawing strength each from the other.

Elanor and Ilika had fallen asleep, and Sam had laid them on Gurth’s empty bed. Eldarion had come to sit on the floor by Gurth and Sulka. Gurth was just about his age, and Eldarion wondered if perhaps they could be friends.

Bereft of his princess, Orophin walked over and sat between the bent legs of Rúmil, leaning back against his brother’s chest. Rúmil’s strong arms went around his own knees and Orophin. Haldir called when they sat thus Rúmil’s "elfling pen".

It had started when Orophin had been trying to learn to walk. He’d had long legs even then and never seemed able to figure out how to get his feet beneath him. Rúmil had watched the baby’s frustrated attempts and analyzed them as ever. Then, he had put the small Orophin between his legs just as he was now and whispered to him to try again. With a triumphant crow, Baby Longshanks had pushed up on Rúmil’s knees and first found his feet beneath him.

Ever since, Haldir had oft seen his brothers sitting just so, even after ferocious battles with dead orcs all around them as they rested together.

Haldir’s brothers were much younger than he. When he began his training he had told his mother that he still wanted brothers, and she had laughed and said she would see what could be done. He had been a novice warrior already when he did this and soon after Rúmil was born.

While the family was awaiting the birth of Orophin, Lord Celeborn had appointed Haldir as one of his youngest scouts ever and sent him to the lands beyond Lórien. Hirglor had been proud of his oldest son and given him his knife that still he carried. To keep him safe, his father had said.

Always Haldir dreamed of serving with his father once he was good enough. For Hirglor was one of Lord Celeborn’s most feared and trusted warriors and his oldest friend. He commanded Celeborn’s personal guard.

Hirglor had followed Celeborn from Doriath and never left his side. His own body he had used once to shelter Celebrían from harm and had suffered grievous wounds for her. The mothers of Celeborn and Hirglor had been cousins.  In Doriath, the two warriors had been raised together. No elf was more loyal to Celeborn than Hirglor, until Haldir was born.

Watching his now grown brothers sit still tangled together made Haldir suddenly forget war and pain and the many years of battles. Orophin had been such a beautiful and gentle baby. He and Rúmil were still under the spell of that baby, born the night their mother and father had died.

Haldir had lost much in his long life, including his parents and the one to whom he had been betrothed. He still had his brothers. Their love alone had kept him whole.

I will carry this picture with me always. Look at them all and the love they have managed to keep bright and strong through all these long years. There must be a way through this latest darkness. We must find it, all of us together and Gimli and Aragorn and Arwen as well. What is separating us must end. This fellowship and love is what we fought and died for during the years of the Dark Lord.

In Rosie’s humble little soul, a great determination arose. This was not going to beat them. She, Rosie Cotton Gamgee, would stop it alone if necessary!

"Mithrandir used to say that hobbits were amazing creatures, Rosie. I think he was right."

Startled by Legolas’ soft voice meant only for her ears, Rosie found his eyes watching her face as if he could read her thoughts. She blushed and then smiled and smoothed his hair once again. Slowly, he raised her small hand to his lips and kissed it with reverence.

"Thank you, dear. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes, Rosie, I am very comfortable. Will Sam read them now? It has been so long since I heard from Pippin and Merry."

"Are you sure you want them read aloud, dear? They are your letters after all."

"No, I would not be so selfish. I think that all of us could use some fresh air from the Shire. Let Sam read them to all of us. His voice is to me the one that makes me remember all I have heard of the Shire from Mithrandir and others. I wish I had seen it at least once."

"You will, dear. I plan on showing you my garden at Bag End and getting your advice." Rosie shuddered a bit at his tone of now never having a chance to see her beloved Shire, but Legolas was so intent on Sam that he did not notice.

"Well, Mr. Legolas, the first one’s from Pippin. As me old Gaffer would say, hang on to your hats for it may get suddenly windy!" Sam broke the seal on the letter and began to read:

Dear Legolas,

Merry says I should write "prince" but that really isn’t you is it? You’re more of a Legolas than a prince after all. Besides, Gimli would be angry with me. He says elves are vain enough from the day they are born and shouldn’t be encouraged. He said that, Legolas, not me. I am sure you are much less vain than when you were born. Oh, you know what I mean!

Anyway, we are all so worried that you are worse. Rosie writes that you are in a lot of pain. I can’t believe it! You seemed to be healing so well when we left Gondor. There is something rotten here. We Tooks know about these things, you know.

I want to come back, but Merry says we need to take care of things here in the Shire, so Rosie and Sam can stay with you as long as you need them.

The knight of Rohan living here in the Shire keeps insisting that I’m imagining things and that there is no need yet for us to ride forth. He said Gondor’s knight is an idiot. I had to deck him for that remark.

Sam smiled with Legolas at the memory of the gallant knights of Rohan and Gondor. Their friendships had survived so much together.

Didn’t slow him down too much, being decked. I had to run like mad all the way from The Green Dragon. Good thing he’s not as fast as you, Legolas!

I’m getting to him though. I keep shouting "Forth, Eorlingas!" whenever he makes me do something around here, even if I’m just taking out the garbage!

He says I am just doing it to annoy him and is trying to ignore it. But, it’s getting to him I can tell. I really do want to be with you, Legolas. I think you need me.

Sam groaned inwardly at the thought of Pippin’s arrival. Then, he looked at Legolas’ face fill with hope at the words and thought better of his own dismay.  Maybe he does need Pippin? He doesn’t have much left to make him happy these days. If Pippin’s nonsense would do it, I hope they get here quick.

Anyway, that’s my plan of action. Pretty good, right?

I know I am right on this. Merry says Tooks being right about anything could become a dangerous and disturbing trend. He’s grumpy of late.

I can see it myself. Pippin the Wise! Do you think Lord Celeborn would mind sharing his title?

So, until we get there, you probably need to fatten up. Rosie’s a great cook and she wrote that she’s cooking for the elves now.

You really are too thin, Legolas. It’s all that fruit you eat. You need to eat more meat and potatoes. And, desserts! You always used to give me yours. Not that I wasn’t happy about that, you understand! Legolas, has there ever been a fat elf? It doesn’t seem likely, but I always wondered.

I’m glad your brother is there. Sam wrote that he is very nice but doesn’t look at all like you. Says he’s got all this long black hair and very dark eyes. You once told me your father and mother were blond as well. Must have been the milkman as we say here in the Shire!

Oh, Pippin! You can’t have written that, and my Sam just can’t have read it out. Well, the elves all look puzzled, so perhaps they don’t understand. Pippin, I shall report you to your mother for this one!

Mîr-Gilúviel is an even harder name than yours. Don’t elves ever use simple names? Haldir gets very annoyed because I mess up "Haldir, son of Hirglor". I keep saying "son of Huan". It’s all those "h’s". I get confused. Haldir shouldn’t be so touchy. I’m sure Huan was a very nice dog.

Sam was starting to get a little nervous. He had never heard an elf snort before, but either Rúmil had just snorted, or Sam himself was an elf. Sam glanced quickly at the elf to check, but Rúmil now had his face pressed into Orophin’s back, and it was hard to tell. Haldir, however, had a distinctly odd expression on his face. Sam decided to press on quickly with the letter.

Anyway, whose father is named "River of Golden Light"? I ask you! Even "Green Leaf" is better than that! No offense meant, Legolas.

And, don’t get me started on "Orophin"! Took me at least two months to remember how to spell it, and then he went and stuck the "son of Hirglor" on it as well. Just what I needed, another "River of Golden Light"! All I can say is that it’s a good thing Orophin’s a very tall warrior and fierce, or he’d have trouble with that name.

THAT was definitely a snort. Two snorts in fact, followed by a whoop. Sam glanced quickly at the two youngest Galadhrim. Rúmil was pounding his face into his brother’s back laughing helplessly, while Orophin looked as if he’d just swallowed something the wrong way as he tried not to lose his remaining dignity under Rúmil’s pounding. Sam thought he heard him muttering something about Rúmil having been the one to choose the name after all.

As for Haldir, Sam really hadn’t thought that elven eyebrows could go that high.

Anyway, tell your brother hello from me. Of course, he doesn’t know me yet, but I’m trying to learn to be courteous like you elves. Last time I ever talk about you to one of my girls!

Ever since, Diamond has been going about saying in that loud voice of hers that, compared to elves, hobbits are social misfits with the manners of swine. Has anyone ever told you that elven perfection is a little annoying?

There it was from a different direction. A snort. A very quiet one, but still a snort. It couldn’t be? Legolas was not the snorting type. Sam looked at the bed. Legolas had covered his mouth with his long fingers and looked guilty. He had definitely snorted. Legolas Thraduilion, paragon of elven courtesy, had just snorted in a public gathering! Sam knew he was in trouble. Pippin was going to die for this.

Maybe I could use just a little improvement? I used to annoy Master Elrond I think. I don’t know. He did seem to grit his teeth around me at times. Quite often, now that I think of it. Is that an elven custom?

Tell Orophin that I tried that interesting trick he taught me with cards at The Green Dragon. I won a lot of money! I think Haldir is just a little harsh to call it cheating. Haldir doesn’t like to lose at things, does he? Anyway, I owe Orophin an ale. Do elves drink ale, Legolas? If they don’t, I’ll have to find something else for him.

Sam thought Orophin looked as if he had stopped worrying about his name all of a sudden. He saw the elf glance nervously at Haldir. Haldir was pretty strait-laced and strict with his brothers. Orophin felt a baleful glare that had been perfected over the centuries bearing down upon him.

Oh, and tell Rúmil that he’s right. Hobbits really can’t drink twenty ales in a row. I tried it after I won all that money. I only got to twelve before I got very sick. Merry says I ruined his new waistcoat. I still think it can be cleaned.

Rúmil had abandoned all hope and dignity by this time. He was rolling on the floor with laughter. Orophin took the opportunity to quickly gather his brother into the safety of his arms until Rúmil could regain his lost elven calm. Sam wondered, perhaps unkindly, if this was a strategic move to deflect Haldir’s continued glare about the cards.

The Gaffer says to tell you that he put in all those potato sets that you sent him from Ithilien. He says they are such big buggers already, that he is bound to take a prize at the harvest fair. He wants to know if he can send you some Old Toby in thanks?

I can’t convince the Gaffer that elves really don’t smoke pipes. He says that goes against all normal behavior and just isn’t natural, and I must be daft to say such a thing. Maybe you could let him send it and just give the stuff to Aragorn and Gimli?

Sam breathed a little easier. The Gaffer seemed safe enough. Nobody could be upset by the Gaffer and potatoes, and everyone knew Legolas did hate pipe smoke, so that was safe enough as well.

By the way, the Gaffer framed that letter you sent with the potatoes. Says he doesn’t understand half of what you say it’s so fancy, but it does look beautiful up on the wall.

We hobbits don’t usually go in for a lot of that "honor upon your house" and "stars shining upon the hour of our meeting" stuff, Legolas. Why do you think we all thought of Bilbo as Mad Baggins? Even Frodo was thought a little odd. Very nice, mind you, but odd.

Still, the Gaffer framed your letter. I won’t tell you what he’s been known to do with mine.

Oh, save us! Here I was thinking the Gaffer was a safe subject. What must Mr. Legolas think of us?

Sam made himself glance towards the bed. To his surprise, Legolas was smiling. The first real smile he had managed in many weeks lit his whole face. Sam saw Rosie patting the long thin hand with her own small plump one. She didn’t seem upset either. Something was happening there that Sam didn’t understand.

How is your father? Sam wrote that he might come to Gondor, and that he heard Faramir tell Éowyn that it would be the second battle of the Pelennor Fields if he did. Don’t know what that means.

I think your father must be very nice. You haven’t got a mean bone in your body, and you’re his son after all.

Is your brother cranky? If not, I can’t believe all these tales I hear about the body counts when your father arrives anywhere. Rumors are terrible things, aren’t they?

Sam thought Gilúviel looked thoroughly bewildered by now. Rosie, Sam and Elanor were the only hobbits he had ever met. Sam wasn’t sure Gilúviel was quite ready for Pippin. He’d better finish this letter and fast!

Well, I have to end now as Merry wants the rest of this parchment for his own letter. I think he thought I was accusing you of unnatural behavior when I mentioned the Old Toby. You understood what I meant, didn’t you?

Legolas, get better. We really all love and need you so much.

Love and kisses from,

Pippin

The room was silent except for the last gasps of Rúmil still catching his breath from laughing. Sam looked nervously at Rosie.

"Well, dear, I think that was a lovely letter from our Pippin, don’t you, Legolas?" She again adjusted the cover over Legolas. He was so thin, and the breeze in the room was cooler now. He was starting to look sleepy as well. This pleased the gentle hobbit.

Legolas smiled up at Rosie. "I think it is the loveliest letter I have ever had. It’s as if he’s right here in the room with me again. Oh, Rosie! What should we have done without our Pippin?" She bent and kissed him as gently as if he were her own hobbit-lad.

In many ways, perhaps he was her son, as were all these elves. None of them still had their own mothers and few even their fathers. The dark years had been cruel to many elven families. Rosie’s loving heart stretched easily. It could hold all these ancient beings that she loved.

"Do you want to wait for tomorrow for Merry’s letter? Are you tired, dear?" Rosie glanced over at Haldir, who came over to the bedside. He looked searchingly down at Legolas’ pleading face and smiled.

"I think another letter from the Shire is just what my patient needs, although his eyes say he will not be awake at the end or even the middle. I will read you the rest tomorrow if you fall asleep, Legolas. If you promise me not to fight sleep, we can at least begin. If it’s like the last, I’m not so sure your healer will survive it, Legolas."

Legolas smiled up at him and let his fingers rest briefly on the healer’s strong hand. There was no need for words between them as Haldir suddenly bent and kissed Legolas’ forehead in blessing.

Then, the healer resumed his seat on the floor and helped Gilúviel settle his head comfortably once more on his lap. Haldir felt the need for a calm presence as he braced for the next letter. Gilúviel was the calmest elf he knew. Bewildered, perhaps, but calm.

Sam took a deep drink of the ale sent from Aglarond. Dwarves were good brewers he decided. He picked up Merry’s letter and began:

Dear Prince Legolas,

That does look odd. Don’t tell him, but Pippin is right. You really are a Legolas to us and not a prince. I hate when Pippin is right. He never lets go of it. It happens so seldom, you know. You don’t mind not being a prince with us, do you?

What is going on with you? We left you definitely on the mend and now all this. Rosie told me not to trouble you, but it really is bothering me, Legolas. You’re usually the one we don’t have to worry about. As long as you and Gimli didn’t come to blows, you were a pretty safe bet to be alright.

Rosie saw tears in Legolas’ eyes as he thought of the absent Gimli and discreetly handed him her handkerchief. She alone knew how much Legolas missed the dwarf and feared to die apart from him.

How is Gimli? He sent us a quick note that he was on the road again with Aragorn, but we had a hard time reading those runes he uses, so we’re not quite sure where they’re headed. Pippen thinks they have some "foreigner" with them, but I say the word that is smeared by water must be "Faramir". Do you know if he’s with them? If so, who’s guarding the kingdoms? Is it my Lady Éowyn? Tell her that her knight is ever at her service and will ride to her side if she but say the word!

Legolas smiled and surrendered himself to slumber as he thought of Merry’s courage in the great battle where he first served his lady of Rohan. Gently, Rosie drew the covers over his shoulders and kissed his lips softly as she always did before he slept.

Sam wrote that Prince Imrahil has been left in charge of the elves of Ithilien, and that there appears to be tension and hostility among them towards Aragorn’s realm. He said that there was a great host of elven warriors in Minas Tirith, and that they ever watch over you. Are you in some danger in Gondor? Other than being so ill I mean?

I hope this isn’t true. Aragorn sets such a store by being raised by elves that it would pain him to be estranged from the colony.

He’d probably get even crankier if deprived of the company of elves. I think you’re a good influence on him, Legolas.

Still, even though he was raised in Imladris, Strider never does seem to be able to arch his eyebrows as you and the Galadhrim do. Is that something genetic? It annoys Strider so much when you and Haldir do it that I think he must be jealous.

Sam thought at this point that he would lose Rúmil once more, but Orophin reacted quickly and covered his brother’s mouth and nose with his hands. If Rúmil couldn’t breathe, he could neither snort nor laugh.

For Orophin had seen Haldir’s head bend down until his silver hair fell forward and hid his face. That was always a danger sign with Haldir. His next action had usually been a bellow for the blood of whichever elfling had destroyed the talan.

Orophin was not having his big brother’s attention focused on him again! Suddenly, he noticed that Rúmil was starting to turn blue and released his nose and mouth quickly. Now Rúmil glared at Orophin.

Oh, I’m getting as bad as Pippin, aren’t I? Back to the news!

We’ve had a lot of rumors from Bree that something is really going on in Mirkwood. I mean, Eryn Lasgalen. Can’t get used to that new name. Travelers speak of seeing Thranduil’s warriors riding in the general direction of Gondor. One rumor was that someone had even seen King Thranduil himself mounted at the head of his army.

That was probably from some drunk though. Your father never leaves Mirk. . .Eryn Lasgalen unguarded, does he? Of course, Lord Celeborn is close by and could keep an eye on it I suppose.

Legolas, does your father ever wear a crown of real leaves and berries? That’s what the drunk said about the leader of the host of elves as he called them. That’s why folks in Bree laughed at his wild tale. Generally, crowns are of gold or silver or mithril, right?

I wonder though. He did say the elves of the host riding towards Gondor were all dressed in green and brown, and that sounds a lot like your own tunic and leggings. Is that some sort of uniform up there, Legolas?

I expect you and your brother would be glad to see your father?

Sulka noticed that instantly the eyes of all the elves had sought one another, except those of the sleeping Legolas.

"Ai, Valar, Thranduil!" Rúmil was no longer laughing. "Gilúviel?" His voice was a whisper.

The dark prince answered as quietly. "Imrahil would have sent word if he knew. I have heard nothing. Adar has decided that we should not know it seems. I will send forth riders as soon as it grows dark. The men of Gondor should not know we ride. Until then, let us keep still for Legolas." Gilúviel nodded to Sam to continue with the letter.

I am still pondering our course of action, but I think you may see us soon. Maybe Pippin is right. If there is evil afoot yet again, it couldn’t hurt to have what’s left of the Fellowship assembled. Know any wizards still left here? We really could use a wizard.

Haldir bowed his head at these words. His healer’s heart also longed desperately for a wizard. Two or three would be better.

Well, that’s all of the news I can fit on this parchment. Besides, the messenger is waiting in the kitchen with Pippin.

Legolas, I don’t think I’ve ever really told you what you mean to me, to all of us. We love you so very much. Please get better for us.

Your friend,

Merry

Haldir walked to the bed where Legolas now lay deeply asleep. Tomorrow, he would again read him Merry’s letter while they were alone and tell him of Thranduil. Legolas would have to know about his Adar. He saw the happy smile on Legolas’ beautiful face and was glad that Pippin’s letter had come first. Legolas did not need to know tonight. Tonight had been joy.

Mithrandir was right. Hobbits are the most amazing creatures. One has brought Legolas such joy this night, and the other may have thwarted the mighty King Thranduil.

Valar, what is that hot-head of Mirkwood about to bring down upon us? Would that Lord Celeborn were here to advise me! Aragorn must be told. Whatever my misgivings, he is still Legolas’ friend and mine.

Gondor is his kingdom. He has the right to know, and Ithilien may need him as an ally. There is great evil at work here. I feel it. I will send Rúmil after Elessar, Gimli and Faramir. He can take Gilúveil’s Fuin. No horse I know of is faster now that Shadowfax is gone.

Then, Haldir gathered up the sleeping Gurth and carried him towards his bed, Rúmil picked up Eldarion from where he had curled up on the floor and headed for his own chambers. Rosie and Sam picked up the sleeping girls and followed him out the door. Orophin and Gilúviel left together walking swiftly.

In all this, not one word was said. Everyone but Sulka seemed to know what was happening, and what part each must play. This Sulka found frightening. She wondered at the name of Thranduil. She did not know it. She feared that soon she might.

Sulka watched the healer settle Legolas and Gurth for the night and then take the chair of watching by Legolas’ bed.

It seemed odd to Sulka not to see Gilúviel there. He never left his brother’s bedside and slept on the floor in this room if he must rest. She trembled to think what could draw him from Legolas.

Still without speaking, Haldir nodded to her as always to bid her goodnight. Sulka had noted before that he had placed Elanor’s two blue flowers, from his hair and that of Legolas, into a small glass of water on the table. As she looked at the glass now, she was amazed that, despite their haste and urgency, each departing elf had placed his own flower into the glass. Red, purple and yellow flowers now stood with the blue. They were still fresh and beautiful.

Sulka could not know it, but these elves had taught Elanor to reverence Ilúvatar’s creations. Tomorrow the small hobbit lass would see that her flowers still lived out their purpose in Arda and gave Legolas comfort.

Late that night as Sulka sat beside her son, she heard Haldir slowly sharpening his war knife. Its inlaid scabbard he had placed next to the flowers.

Author’s Note:

Thranduilion:  Son of Thranduil.
Yavanna:  Ainu. The second greatest of the Valar. She watches over all growing things in Arda. The Sleep of Yavanna was a time in Middle-Earth when most living things slept after the destruction of the lamps of the Valar, awaiting the return of light. The elves finally awoke during this time by the shores of Cuivíenen.
Lórien:  Alternative and more common name of Irmo. One of the Valar lords. He is the master of visions and dreams. With his wife, Estë, he provides rest and recovery to the Valar and the Eldar.
Estë: Ainu and one of the Valier. She is the wife of Lórien, and her task is that of healing and rest.
Aulë: Ainu. He is the master of crafts and fashions the substances of Arda. He created the dwarves because he was impatient for the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar, but later repented. In his remorse at what he had done, he surrendered his creation to Ilúvatar’s will. Because of this, the dwarves were spared destruction and only made to sleep until after the awakening of the elves. Aulë’s wife is Yavanna.
__________

Chapter 8 - Gimli’s Aerie

"My ladies, I thank you for your company on my walk. I will bid you good evening now for I must return to my duties. I bless you this evening and always."

Orophin bowed to the two little girls with the solemn formality that so delighted them. They curtseyed to him in return as Arwen had taught them. His face was drawn and weary, but he made it smile for Elanor and Ilika as he kissed them.

He had come because Rosie told him of their fright at all the sadness that they saw and felt in the castle. Haldir had said he would tend to his brother’s duties for a time, and Orophin had taken the children walking in Arwen’s gardens. The ones Legolas had planted.

"Orophin, why are you wearing your beautiful tunic and cape? All the warriors are, and there are so many pretty banners in the courtyard. Is it an important night?"

Elanor looked up at her esquire with complete trust that her question would be answered. Orophin willed himself to absolute calm as he did so.

"Yes, princess, it is an important night. We honor Legolas tonight. He is a great prince and much loved among his warriors."

"I am glad he is being honored, Orophin. He will like that, won’t he? Have you told him, or is it a surprise?"

Sam quickly gathered his daughter into his arms and cuddled her close, so that she did not see her elf’s face tighten with pain at her words.

"You must not delay Orophin further, Elanor, he must return to the palace. You will stay here with your Da and Uncle Merry and Uncle Pippin. Let him go quickly, lass, or you will make him late."

Orophin gave Sam a grateful look and almost ran from the children back into the palace.

*****

Night was drawing on and still the hobbits sat together in Gimli’s Aerie, the special raised area the dwarf had built for the hobbits and the "shorter-of-stature" guests to the castle. From here, the hobbits could look out over Gondor and the city as easily as the tall elves and men.

How Legolas had laughed with delight as he had first viewed the fine stonework and named it, breaking a bottle of the best wine his father had sent over its walls to honor the builder and bless the work. Gimli had grumbled at the loss of wine, but his heart had been touched by the gesture.

The Aerie had become one of the elf’s favorite places to perch with his friends. Even now, his gentleness seemed to linger in the stones and among the raised beds for flowers that the dwarf had remembered to include.

Gimli had grumbled about those too, but had smiled as he watched Legolas’ slender hands happily delve in the soil. With Sam to do the heavy work for him, the elf planted flowers and one small rowan tree to bring them shade, resting often but determined to finish.

Gimli had teased the elf and the hobbit gardener about "that miserable little twig of theirs" and laughed when the elf sang to it softly as he planted it.

Legolas had really had no choice but to defend the little tree’s honor and seek revenge upon the dwarf. Sam remembered the wicked gleam in the elf’s tired eyes as he innocently proposed a wager.

He would, he said, stand upon the parapet and announce to all that dwarves were superior to elves if he lost, and he would drink ale for an entire week instead of wine. If he won, Gimli must learn to climb a tree and build him new flower boxes in the Aerie for more roses.

Gimli looked at the pitiful sapling with its half dead leaves and was lost to temptation. He knew well how the dignified elf hated ale, and the thought of the parapet announcement glittered like mithril in his mind. He gave his hand to Legolas to seal the wager.

While the dwarf surrendered to laughter and was unaware, the elf quietly buried at the base of the poor twig a little of the earth from Galadriel’s garden that Lord Celeborn had sent.

Sam smiled at the memory of the awful cursing of the startled dwarf a week later when the elf pointed to the now sturdy sapling’s first leaves unfolding. Legolas had laughed until his eyes streamed as he claimed victory over the grumpy dwarf. Fondly, Legolas speculated aloud as to which would be the perfect tree to teach Gimli to climb as soon as he was well, totally impervious to the dwarven glare fixed upon him.

The stones for the flower boxes had come from Aglarond but two days before. Gimli had been, as always, within the healing chambers, so Sam had taken delivery and had the dwarves pile the stones near the Aerie.

Sam looked at those stones and then at the beautiful young tree whose leaves made music now in the night’s breezes. The sturdy hobbit had been tending the little rowan tree carefully through the long weeks when the elf no longer had the strength to visit. Sam found his eyes filling with tears and rubbed his coat sleeve roughly across them. He had learned much from the elf as they worked together.

*****

Rosie had come long ago to take the girls to bed, but Sam and his two old friends had no desire to go into the palace themselves. In their hearts, they felt that this time was too sacred for the elves, and they would not intrude.

Together they watched as each company of elven warriors returned from the day’s duties. All day, at least fifty warriors in formal uniform had stood in the courtyard beneath the prince’s chambers, but now their numbers were growing each hour.

Sam’s throat grew tight as he saw Ohtar leading Fuin and Arod into the courtyard. Arod’s mane had been tied with long green and gold ribbons and several of Oropher’s scarlet with mithril bells along their length. The horses would stand watch with Ohtar.

Each tired company returned to quarters and washed and changed quickly from the daily uniform to that worn on the highest ceremonial days. The captain of each guard bore its standard and stood with it for his elves to group around him. No order was laid upon them to do this. They came out of love to their prince.

"May I join you?" The weary King Elessar asked humble permission of the hobbits. He felt a sorrow almost to madness descending upon him and had sought these simple creatures as his only hope.

"Strider, you don’t need to ask! Sit, please. Pippin bring that chair close to mine!" Sam cuffed the younger hobbit who sprang to action and dragged the chair forward.

The king sank his tired body into it and looked out upon the gathering elves below. His whole being ached with sadness.

"Strider, what do they call this that they are doing? We’ve seen it all afternoon and know it’s for Legolas, but we don’t understand." Pippin’s usually irrepressible voice was hushed and almost timid.

Aragorn spoke the Quenya name and smiled at their bewilderment. They had enough trouble with the elves’ common tongue.

"It means ‘The Watching,’ and it happens only for royalty among them. Usually, it is for the time when a royal passes to the Undying Lands, but also for those who travel to. . ." Elessar’s voice hesitated at the word he did not wish to utter for his friend.

"Mandos. For the trip to Mandos, they place the banners of the Houses and the Alliances in front of the warriors who stand guard."

Aragorn pointed to the many-colored flags that were in the courtyard beneath the windows of the prince’s chambers.

"Those in front are the banners of the House of Oropher and of Greenwood the Great, of the Noldor, of the Sindar, of the Galadhrim and Finarfin and of the Silvan elves. In back, there are those for the Houses of Elrond and the Golden Flower, for Eregion and Imladris, for the Havens and the Teleri and for Lindon and Doriath and Gondolin and other places that are no more. For all the elves, Pippin. My heart breaks too much to name them all to you."

The king’s eyes looked towards the heavens and sought Eärendil’s comfort as always. "The warriors are here to watch over Legolas as he passes to death. The banners are to bring him the honor of all the elves who have dwelt in Arda since the awakening of the First Born during the Sleep of Yavanna. They will see Legolas home to Mandos."

Aragorn’s great heart ached unto breaking. "When Legolas passes, it will be his brother who brings the personal standard of Legolas Thranduilion, together with his own and their father’s, to place them before the one of the House of Oropher. This will let the warriors know their lord has fallen and passed from Arda."

Legolas, my friend, you were to be here for my passing. How cruel is it that I wait now for yours? I wish well that I had died before this night! Look at these gentle faces of your friends. They cannot imagine life without you, even as I cannot.

"Those poles will be topped with white silk ribbons, for that is the elven color of mourning, and the white ribbons will be twined with the green and gold of the Woodland Realm and the scarlet of the House of Oropher."

Despite his own pain, Aragorn noted again the grieving of the hobbit faces and put his strong arms about their shoulders to draw them close and try and comfort them where there was no comfort to be had.

"The warriors will then sing a lament for their prince and remain to guard his body until burial."

You hate the darkness and enclosed places, and we will put you there, put you where there will be no sunshine and no forest and no breeze to touch your face. We will leave you where there is only cold and darkness.

Aragorn’s face fell into his hands then, and he let his despair wash over him as he wept bitterly. The hobbits huddled closer to him to try and ease the pain of the king and their own.

*****

Legolas lay in his bed in the chambers of healing, his body so thin now that it scarce raised the silken coverings they had placed over him for warmth. He had not spoken for hours, for his strength was too far gone. He seemed at peace somehow and almost beyond pain.

Now his head lay quiet upon the pillow, and he had ceased the soft moaning that had so torn at their hearts. Instead, he lay still with his arms by his side. His eyes were half-closed and seemed far too large for the thin and sunken face.

Gilúviel sat by the bedside holding his brother’s slender hand in one of his own and stroking the unbound golden hair on the pillow. He was singing in a soft voice the songs of their childhood as he counted each shallow breath his brother drew.

At the head of the bed, on either side, stood Rúmil and Orophin in their dress uniforms and holding their bows at their sides. The last duty of these warriors to the prince was to guard his passing. They would not fail. Although their hearts were breaking for their childhood friend, their warrior faces were calm and dignified as they stood to honor the prince to whom they had sworn their allegiance.

On the other side from Gilúviel, Eldarion sat with his mother. The boy’s eyes were reddened and swollen from long nights of crying, but he had mastered himself this day and held Legolas’ other hand gently. He sat straight and tall by his friend’s side and would not leave him.

Eldarion’s world was crumbling before him, but he was still brave for his friend. He did not cry. He thought of Finrod tearing his bonds free as the wolf approached Beren. Eldarion wished there were a wolf to slay and save Legolas, but there was none. He could only wait with him for death.

Eldarion’s eyes sought Rúmil. The elf stood silent and still to honor the prince, but his grey eyes told the child he did well. Eldarion felt comfort at Rúmil’s presence.

Arwen let her son be here and silently sat close by him to lend her own courage if he needed it. In Undómiel’s black hair, she had plaited the roses from the bushes that Legolas had planted for her, the small pale ones without thorns that smelled the sweetest and were his favorites. He had told her once that they reminded him of her.

At the foot of the bed, knelt the dwarf Gimli with his head buried into the bed against the dying elf’s legs. This was the hardest for Legolas for he could feel the dwarf’s silent tears soak through the silk cover and lay warm on his flesh.

Legolas so wanted to comfort him. Never had he known that dwarves could weep as this one did now for him. Legolas’ mind wished to comfort his friend, but his body was too weak to let words come.

He hoped Gimli could feel his thoughts. Gimli, what shall I do without you? These others will join me one day, but you I am losing. I do not wish to be without you, Master Dwarf! I love you, my friend. Remember that always. Gimli, I am too tired now to even think. Stay with me, friend, that I may be brave as the dwarves are brave. It is growing darker, and I fear the darkness without you, Gimli.

In her corner by Gurth’s bedside, Sulka watched the elves and the dwarf. Her own cheeks were wet with tears. She had found suddenly in her heart that she did not want the elven prince to die. It mattered to her.

She saw Haldir walk towards her with her child’s medicine. In the midst of this grief, he remembered her child. His eyes silently noted the tears on her face before she wiped them quickly away.

The tall healer wore his uniform of old to honor his fealty and long service to Celeborn’s alliance with Thranduil and his sons. Around his shoulders, he wore the formal red cloak of the healer that he was now. Pinning it at the shoulder was Galadriel’s own brooch she had given to him after she taught him her knowledge.

The brooch glowed with a light that came not from jewels, and its brilliance brought warmth. Somehow, it made the elf seem even larger and taller to Sulka’s eyes. The light gave her hope where there was none, and the last of her fear of Haldir dissolved.

The healer handed the medicine cup to Gurth. For once, the boy took it without complaint and in silence. Gurth was frightened as Legolas died. Haldir touched the child’s thin cheek softly, wondering if he would still be able to save this boy as he had been unable to do with Legolas.

Sulka’s heart ached for the tall elf. There was no coldness on his face now. Instead, a deep and abiding sadness lay there that tore at her heart to see. Without thinking, she motioned to the empty chair by her side.

Haldir looked at the dark-haired woman’s face for a long moment and saw again that courage that fought beside him to save her child. He walked to the chair and sat down beside Sulka.

As they sat together and kept their vigil, Sulka’s heart was amazed when the elf slowly took her small hand in his strong one and held it.

Haldir had never held a human hand before and wondered at the warmth of it against his own cool fingers. The woman of Gondor was no longer his enemy.

*****

"There’s too many of them, I tell you. It’s not natural the way they’re just standing there, not moving at all. Catch me standing out there like that for some royal. Some of the boys heard that all of ‘em are volunteers, not under orders. Stupid elves."

Darthol scratched his skin under his dirty tunic. He had been called down by the Captain about how filthy it was just yesterday. "I tell you, Arngrein, it’s not safe that isn’t, havin’ all them elves right here in the city. Look at all those damn weapons, would you? The king oughtn’t to allow that. Damn, elves!"

The short boorish guard Dalthor was new in the service of King Elessar, and Arngrein cursed inwardly every time he was assigned duty with him.

They had lost so many men in the war that standards were lowered to replace them. Arngrein thought this was a mistake, one of a young king not yet noting all the details of his realm. He hoped Elessar would soon learn better. Better to have fewer good soldiers rather than this offal.

"I’d lower my voice if I were you. Haven’t you been listening when the captain read out those new orders? The king is angry about something to do with those elves in the colony. Seems to think some of his own soldiers might have been out of line with the elves of Ithilien. You keep cursing about elves in that loud voice of yours, Dalthor, and you’ll end up before Elessar himself."

"He thinks more of ‘em than his own people, that’s his problem. Think he was a damn elf himself. Going off and marryin’ one of ‘em even. T’ain’t natural, that ain’t."

Arngrein resisted the urge to bring his fist into the man’s face. It had been his privilege once to escort Queen Arwen as she rode with her son and Prince Legolas. He remembered how the two elves had laughed together that day, making much over Eldarion’s efforts to ride without saddle or bridle.

The boy had fallen off more than he rode until Prince Legolas had jumped up behind him and started to show the boy how to tell the horse what to do with his knees and his voice. When he leaped back onto Arod, the prince had challenged Eldarion to gallop with him and, for a wonder, the boy had managed to stay on.

Arngrein remembered the queen’s happy laughter as she applauded her son and the prince. He had never beheld a more beautiful or gentle creature as his queen on that day. Or, a happier one.

Arngrein had seen the queen this morning as she sat briefly in her gardens. He had watched her plaiting small white roses into her beautiful hair and saw the tears on her cheeks as she did so. A light seemed to have gone out in her, and the gruff old sergeant had wished he knew how it could be rekindled.

Prince Legolas was dying. He would not last the night. That was what their Captain had told them this morning during orders. Said he would personally flog any of his soldiers that disturbed the ceremonies of the elves, and they would be lucky if that was all he did. The captain had been with Legolas at the Pelennor Fields. The elf’s arrows had saved his life he’d once told Arngrein.

Word in the barracks was that the king had declared that Gondor would enter a year of mourning when the prince passed, the same as was observed for a king of Gondor. Éomer of Rohan and Faramir of Ithilien it was rumored would do the same.

In his soldier’s heart, Arngrein mourned with the elves. He had seen the prince often in the city, riding with the king and Faramir and. . .the dwarf. Always the dwarf. He had laughed with the other men at the loud running complaints of the dwarf about the nature of elves.

He didn’t understand men like Dalthor. The elves had ever been their friends as far as he could see. The prince had even fought at Pelennor with the king. He had risked his life for Gondor. Arngrein had been at Pelennor. He remembered its terrors.

Where had this poison suddenly come from that spoke of elves as evil? Men like Dalthor were a mystery to him. If the prince was evil, what then was good?

The old sergeant looked to the courtyard and saw his own captain approach Ohtar. He wore his dress uniform and, after speaking to the elven warrior, took his place beside him in silence. Arngrein decided that, when his watch was over, he would join his captain. There should be at least two soldiers of Gondor to stand with the elves.

*****

In his musing, Arngrein managed to ignore Dalthor’s unwelcome presence for a time. Two more hours and he would be free of that lout.

A sound of scuffling and Dalthor’s cursing brought him back with a sigh. He turned to see what might be the matter.

Dalthor was handling an old man roughly and obviously enjoying it. Dalthor loved to abuse those without power. It was the thing about him Arngrein hated most. An old beggar at the gates of the king was certainly without power.

"Old croaker, this is the king’s palace! Think you can just walk right in, do you? That’s what ‘is majesty’s got soldiers for, old fool. Begone with you!"

Dalthor roughly shoved the old man down and threw his staff upon him. The staff made an amazing clatter in the silent courtyard of Elessar, echoing and thundering in the dreadful stillness of mourning. Arngrein rushed over to the old man.

"Dalthor, be silent and resume your post!" He looked at the old man and saw a definite bump over one of the man’s eyes. "Are you alright, sir? Forgive this lout! We have more respect here in Gondor for our elders. Let me help you up."

The old man seemed unhurt except for the bump. He drew himself up and suddenly seemed tall and somehow wonderful despite his shabby and travel-stained robes.

"Bring me to Prince Legolas at once. I can cure him."

For the rest of his long life, Arngrein would never know why he acted as he did that night. Something in the old man’s eyes commanded his soul, and he acted on the instincts that had kept him alive in far too many battles.

Arngrein grabbed the old man’s arm and, for the first and only time in his soldier’s life, he deserted his post.

Dalthor smiled in deep satisfaction. He foresaw great advantage to himself when he reported Arngrein’s desertion to the captain later. Dalthor thought he would make a fine sergeant in place of Arngrein.

*****

Swiftly the soldier guided the old man down the corridors of the palace. He had never done anything so mad in his life, but he knew it was right.

Drawn by the commotion at the door, Elessar had left the Aerie to investigate. He did not notice the hobbits following close behind him. By a side door, they entered the main hall of the palace.

It was thus that the sergeant and the old man racing down this corridor careened into the king of Gondor.

"My lord!" Arngrein was aghast at the sight of Elessar staggering back and catching his balance. "Forgive me, my lord! I did not see you, and. . ."

The king’s reaction silenced him. Elessar stood as if transfixed at the sight of the old man, awe suffusing his face.

"Radagast?"

The old man nodded, and the king of Gondor grabbed the arm that Arngrein had dropped. He and the old one began to run down the corridors together.

Arngrein knew his career was over as he and the hobbits raced after the king. Somehow, he did not even care.

*****

Do not let him die. Do not let it be too late. Do not take him from us. For three hours and more, the same litany had pounded through King Elessar’s mind. He sat in the corner of the room and felt totally useless.

He was the king and he could do nothing but hold his own son and wait. This was beyond his own skill as a healer. Haldir knew more than he would ever know, and the evil would not be defeated by him. Their only hope lay now with the Istar.

Aragorn looked down at Eldarion, who had fallen asleep in his father’s arms from sheer exhaustion and sorrow. His son would not leave the room and had defied his own father, something unheard of in Eldarion before. Aragorn looked at the small part of himself that he held and suddenly thought of Thranduil.

Thranduil the warrior riding towards Minas Tirith. Thranduil the king. Thranduil. How much time have I spent discussing our strategy with Faramir? How we would meet Thranduil. And never once did I say, Thranduil, the father. Thranduil, whose son is dying. What would I do if it were Eldarion? What kind of fear must be in the heart of this great elven king as he rides towards my city?

Aragorn kissed his sleeping child and held him closer. He wondered how often Thranduil had cradled Legolas to his body and rocked him to sleep.

The king watched the scene unfolding before him. All the elves, including his Arwen, had drawn together as soon as the wizard had entered the room. Some communication beyond what he could understand seemed to let them know what was required even before Radagast or Haldir asked. The Istar and the healer worked swiftly with the herbs, decoctions and potions that had brought hope back for Legolas.

There was little of his life left in the prince when first the kindly wizard had bent over his patient. A small spark of his light had remained though and carefully it was being fanned back into a flame.

Together the elves worked, slowly trickling the liquids that the wise one was making into Legolas’ mouth. Every few minutes, another small spoonful would be coaxed down the prince’s throat by his brother.

Arwen and Rúmil continued to bathe the thin body with the warm water into which Orophin had stirred herbs that now filled the air with the scent of the forest.

Aragorn watched the two beautiful creatures working as if they were one being, each knowing somehow where the other’s hands would travel in healing the prince. As he bent and worked, Rúmil’s silver hair suddenly fell forward and mingled briefly with Arwen’s black. Aragorn’s throat tightened for a moment at the sight, and he kissed his son to drive back this sadness that would be his forever.

Each elf worked in silence, and yet the king knew that they spoke in their hearts together. Aragorn could feel their combined healing powers being poured into Legolas. A soft glow seemed to surround the prince and grow brighter as they freely gave of their own strength.

Aragorn let his eyes wander to the others in the room. Sulka was bathing her son with the herbs while Orophin gave the boy the draught that the wizard had directed. Gurth was still strong enough to sip it from the cup the elf held to his lips. Orophin kept one hand on the boy’s shoulder to link him to the healing light that surrounded the prince.

The hobbits sat in a corner with Gimli. Sam, Merry and Pippin were huddled against the dwarf as if to make their own circle of strength for their friend. Gimli’s eyes never wavered from Legolas’ face. To the king’s surprise, he saw Arngrein sitting with them, his hand resting on the dwarf’s shoulder. Two seasoned soldiers in yet another battle.

If I had more soldiers like that one, I would worry less about Gondor. It takes a battle-wise veteran to know when to take the initiative the way he did at the door to the castle. I must speak to his captain about him and see that he is well rewarded.

"That is enough for the moment. Dry him and clothe him in a warm tunic. He has far too little flesh left and will feel any chill."

The sound of Radagast’s voice in the quiet room was startling. Still, it was a warm and kindly voice, and it eased the king’s heart just hearing it. Aragorn had met him only once and very briefly as he had journeyed with Gollum towards Mirkwood. He remembered Radagast had looked at Gollum with pity and treated him with kindness, healing a wound incurred in their journey.

Gandalf had told him later that Radagast was the most skilled of the Istari in herb lore and was their greatest healer. Gandalf had also said that it would be a very grave mistake to underestimate Radagast the Brown.

Rúmil finished dressing Legolas in the white sleeping tunic that Arwen had brought and then helped Haldir wrapped him in a soft blanket as if he were a sleeping child. Haldir looked over to Radagast.

The wizard had seated himself in the large comfortable chair that Orophin drew nearer the fire for him. Carefully, Haldir lifted Legolas and carried him over to Radagast.

"Ah, that’s right! Let me have my little one here safe in my arms again. It has been too long since I held him last." He held out his arms and let Haldir settle his burden onto his lap. As he cradled Legolas close, Radagast laughed softly and kissed the thin cheek of the fragile elf.

"No, little one, he does not succeed yet with his foul plans. I am only sorry it took me so long to reach you and that you suffered so much pain. It was necessary for me to travel far to seek out the source of your pain and find the last ingredients I needed against it." Again, Radagast kissed the frail elf and willed his own strength into the body that so needed it.

"It will end now, little one. You will get well this time, and the tide will not turn back again. I will hold you this night, and you will take strength from me." The Istar looked over to where the dwarf sat.

"Come, good master Gimli, sit beside me here! This young one is not complete without you. His heart is telling me that. You will give him part of the strength that Aulë grants you." Gimli strode over and, to the amazement of the hobbits, he bent and kissed Legolas’ cheek before he took his place beside the wizard. Legolas stirred as the dwarf’s long beard touched his skin.

Like a sleeping child kissed by his father, Legolas sighed then in contentment. He buried his face against the old one’s neck and murmered the dwarf’s name without waking. Gimli raised his rough hand and lay it softly upon the blanket that held his dearest friend. The wizard smiled and stroked the golden hair as he shifted the thin body to make the elf more comfortable in his arms. Legolas smiled in his sleep and breathed deep the familiar smells of Radagast. He remembered the scents of the forest of the wood-elves as they began their work to heal him.

"I think, my dear Gilúviel, that you may tell those excellent elves down in the courtyard that Eryn Lasgalen still has two princes and will keep both. Tell them that Radagast the Brown asks each to send Legolas part of his own light as they take rest this night."

Joyfully, the prince ran from the room and not long afterwards the sound of quiet rejoicing and soft elven song could be heard through the windows. Aragorn recognized the song as one that Arwen sometimes sang to Eldarion to lull him to sleep. A song of Lórien and Estë, a song sung to the prince by his warriors.

Aragorn saw the eyes of all the elves brighten with tears as they listened to the haunting words, and he felt his own tears spill over and fall onto Eldarion’s dark hair. He smiled at Arwen as she came to sit beside him, leaning her weary head against his shoulder and watching their son sleeping.

Across the room by Gurth’s bedside, the king saw Haldir’s brothers put their arms around him and draw him close. Sulka sat with her sleeping son and smiled at the joy of the three elves before her.

Tomorrow, they would have many questions and begin to find answers. Aragorn knew this was important, but not right now.

Right now, they would keep a different Watching for Legolas. One that would welcome him back to Arda

Author’s Note:

Dedication

This chapter is for my best bud on Arda, The Karenator. She shares my love for Thranduil, and together we are creating a background for Legolas.

I appreciate her kind permission to use and reference her creations Daeron, Seregon, Aldamir, Erelas and the fierce warriors of the Fifteen, all of whom first appear in her as yet unpublished story of Legolas and Daeron. I can scarcely wait for the story’s appearance, Balrog Mama! Arda will never be the same after Daeron!

_____________________

Chapter 9 - Thranduil

Sam hummed to himself in contentment as he tended the garden in Gimli’s Aerie. Some of the very early roses had already begun their first tentative blooming, and the little rowan tree was no longer so little. At times, it seemed to the hobbit that it grew by at least an inch a day. Sam patted its sturdy young trunk with a gardener’s true appreciation. Legolas would be pleased when he finally saw his tree again. Gimli would say he was not, but Sam knew that there were very few things that truly made Gimli unhappy these days. Sam often heard the sturdy dwarf humming in his tuneless fashion as he built the new flower boxes he had promised the elf after losing his wager.

Sam wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled as he saw Arngrein and Ohtar approaching. He cheerfully waved at them. They must be off duty and have seen me and Gimli working.

The soldiers of Gondor and Ithilien had become fast friends with the dwarf and the hobbits since the night of what they now thought of as the healing.

"Gimli, well met! You are working more like two dwarves it seems. What is your rush, my friend?" Arngrein sat down gratefully on one of the stone benches in the Aerie. Drilling the raw recruits had been a trial. This new lot seemed each to be equipped with more than one left foot. Arngrein sometimes envied Ohtar. The elf had only elven horses under his charge and no complaints about their quality.

Still, they were a good-natured lot these new lads and smart, with none of the faults of some of the older ones in his company. It was good that the king had tightened the standards for recruiting. Arngrein looked with distaste towards the courtyard where he could see Dalthor lounging with some of his cronies.

"Aye, and if you are not careful, I shall be recruiting you both to help me as well. Haldir has told us that, if the weather stay this warm, he will allow Legolas to be brought here for a few hours early next week. Sam and I are intent on the place being ready so that his elven lordship can direct us in planting those flowers or whatever that lot is that Sam has been tending."

Sam started to bristle at hearing his carefully selected and nurtured plants described as "that lot" but then he laughed instead. Gimli wouldn’t know a rose from a weed if it bit him. No harm in that though. I’m sure I’d not know a vein of mithril from one of gold. Each to his own task as me Gaffer would say. Ohtar is at least noticing how fine they are.

The elf was indeed examining the rosemary and lavender and rose bushes with appreciation. The scent of the herbs especially made him remember the gardens of his homeland. The princes had brought plants from their mother’s gardens when they came with the settlers to the new colony. It was still cool enough to plant them, Ohtar noted to himself with approval, and the young plants were sturdy and green as they should be. Sam had held off planting in the hope that Legolas could be there to direct his efforts. Ohtar smiled to himself. He had grown to admire the stubborn hobbit optimism. Who else but a hobbit, he thought, would have dared to hope enough for Legolas’ recovery in the long winter months it had taken to grow these fine specimens? The rest of them had been too busy fearing the onset of the elf’s death.

As Ohtar bent over the herbs, the others saw the approach of a stealthy figure behind him but were silent as a long finger upon lips decreed. Nearer and nearer the figure silently crept to Ohtar and then suddenly pounced. The startled old warrior had his knife half out of its sheath as he wrestled with his assailant before he noticed the black hair and heard the laughter of his prince.

"Ohtar, you are officially dead at this moment! You grow careless, old warrior, if one you taught can bring you down so quickly." Gilúviel laughed wildly, and it occurred to Sam that he had never before even seen the prince really smile.

With a roar and a sudden show of the strength wrestling with horses for too many years had given, Ohtar threw the slender young prince off him, wrestled him to the ground and promptly sat on his stomach so forcefully that the air came out of the royal body with a rush and a gasp. He glared at Gilúviel ferociously as he pinned his shoulders down, but there was a glint of fondness in his eye.

"You were saying, my lord? Was it that I am officially dead? You have that decree in your father’s handwriting no doubt? The day I am weak enough for you to kill me, I shall have been in Mandos already two years!"

"Ai, Ohtar! You are still my better! I concede it willingly. I may be quieter, but I shall never be stronger. Let me up before you disgrace your prince even further before this honored company." The old warrior extended his hand to the prince and pulled him up from the ground. Laughingly, Gilúviel examined the damage to his royal person and dusted himself off. Ohtar did service to his liege by picking twigs of rosemary from the black hair. Roughly, he cuffed Gilúviel’s shoulder.

"Not too bad for a young whelp, little princeling. You will make a warrior yet. How is your brother?" Ohtar again cuffed his sovereign, his one sign of affection and taken as such by the prince.

"He ate two bowls of soup today, a little chicken and three pieces of bread, and I did not even have to plead with him to do so. As I left, Radagast was approaching him with pudding. I wish that wizard luck! Legolas does not like pudding or any sweet things." He laughed at the thought of the battle of two stubborn wills that would now be raging. Radagast was of the firm opinion that puddings would nourish and fatten his young elf more quickly. Legolas did not share this opinion.

"He is gaining weight at last?" Ohtar began brushing newly found dust from the back of the prince’s tunic. It suddenly reminded him of a day when he had done this for three elflings in trouble. Gilúviel and Legolas and their cousin Daeron had been about to enter the study of the very angry Thranduil to try and explain just why a certain horse they had been expressly forbidden to ride had been found two miles from the palace by a party of scouts, and in a very poor and lathered condition.

Ohtar smiled at the memory of those young and terrified elflings of so long ago. Thranduil had done well in the raising of all the elflings under his stern but loving care. All of them made the old warrior proud, even that cousin of theirs!

"Ai, Ohtar! He complains to me that at the rate we are stuffing him he shall soon be the first ever fat elf and a disgrace to the House of Oropher. He pleads that I consider Arod’s poor back, but I stand firm as you taught me and insist on one more mouthful each time he speaks."

Gilúviel’s dark eyes shone with happiness. "This morning as I helped him dress, I almost could not see the bones of his ribs. Soon, his tunics will no longer hang on him!" Gilúviel and Ohtar both knew that this was perhaps an exaggeration, but it felt good to be able to say something so wild and know eventually it would be true. In his long months of nursing him, Gilúviel had grown to hate the very sight of the sharp bones of his brother’s spine and his ribs visible beneath too little flesh.

Suddenly grave and respectful, Gilúviel bowed deeply to Sam. "Your lady wife, Master Gamgee, is a cook such as I have never known. So easily can she tempt my brother’s fragile appetite that I, and all the Woodland Realm, shall forever be in her debt. May her days on Arda be blessed!"

Save us! I wish elves wouldn’t bow to me. I never know how I should respond, and I want to be proper and not disgrace Rosie before them. . Sam bobbed his head awkwardly and hoped that was sufficient. From the prince’s smile, it seemed to be.

Gilúviel was still smiling as he lightly clambered up to the throne of Princess Elanor and lifted his face to the warm sun that shone upon it. Thus they had named the highest platform of the Aerie and the stone bench upon it where Orophin and his small hobbit lady best liked to sit. There was the best view of what lay to the south. The prince shook back his black hair and stretched his long arms and fingers up to Anar. Today, it felt good to be alive and part of Ilúvatar’s song. Later, he thought he would take Fuin out to run across the land of Gondor. He would ask Rúmil to join him upon Arod. Both horses needed exercise badly. Content with this thought, the prince let his eyes gaze out upon the land that Elessar ruled.

Contentment faded quickly from Gilúviel’s face. In the distance that only the eyes of an elf could have seen, the prince beheld the dust and horses of a large host riding. Elven horses and elven riders. An army of them. The warriors of Thranduil and the king before them. Gilúviel saw his father’s blond hair stream out behind him as he rode. Aragorn’s day of reckoning had come.

*****

Aragorn felt there were better days in his long life than this one. Warily he adjusted the tunic and robes into which Arwen had rushed him as Rúmil sped to them with news of Thranduil’s approach. These grand robes would never suit his simple tastes, but Arwen had said the great king would expect no less and take affront if met by a king in a worn leather tunic. Aragorn sighed. It was going to be a very long day.

Well, if I do not feel so kingly at this moment, my lady looks every inch a queen. Never have I seen her so beautiful or so. . .elven.

Arwen sat beside him in the throne room, and he saw that she had dressed herself in a gown brought from Imladris. There was nothing human about that gown, and it draped over her in ways that stirred memories in Aragorn of their younger days in Lórien. He looked more closely at her and noted that on her head was not the crown of Gondor. Instead, she had placed there the circlet of Imladris, an emblem of her rank in that elven realm.

Ai, that one is Elrond’s daughter! Thranduil shall be reminded that here is the daughter of a mighty elven lord and the grand-daughter of another, his equal in rank and honor. The grandchild of his most loyal allies and friends. There is much that I can learn from this woman I so love! She will ever be more skilled in the intricate steps of the dance of courtly politics. Aragorn, you were indeed a fool to argue with her that you did not wish to wear these dreadful robes. These clothes may be itching me, but at least I look like a king fit to sit beside this elven queen.

About Arwen’s throat, was clasped a delicate necklace of mellyrn leaves made of mithril and gold and entwined with small stones of adamant. She had told him once that the necklace was the work of Celebrimbor and a gift from Galadriel to her grand-daughter at her wedding to the king of Gondor. There was some power in that necklace that Aragorn did not understand, something that the great smith had somehow wrought into its delicacy. He did understand that the leaves would remind Thranduil of Celeborn and their long friendship and alliances. Aragorn returned the smile Arwen gave him and laughed as she winked at him. With her help, he would get through this.

What is it in Thranduil that the mere mention of his name can reduce so many to anxiety and even fear? I have not even met him and my stomach is in knots as if I were some novice Ranger and totally green. The affair of Gollum’s imprisonment was not one in which he chose to be involved directly, leaving it to his eldest son and Gandalf to arrange. I saw him but once on that trip, riding out from his palace with a contingent of his warriors. All I can remember is a lot of blond hair and a very large elf. A lot of good that does me in planning strategies to calm him down! Even his own son looks anxious.

It was true. Aragorn looked at Gilúviel as he stood not far from him. There was worry in the dark eyes of the prince. Aragorn knew both brothers loved their father beyond measure, but Legolas had once told him that Thranduil could be unpredictable even to his family. He kept all about him unawares. Thus, he survived.

Thank Eru that Gilúviel had the sense to send a rider at once to meet the approaching army! At least, Thranduil will arrive knowing that Legolas is now recovering and this the prince told him would lessen his father’s rage.

Aragorn had received the strong impression from all the elves that an angry Thranduil was something to be avoided at all costs.

Aragorn looked again at the brother of Legolas. The elf prince had never looked more royal, even on the day he had ridden to Minas Tirith at the head of his own army. Tall and slender, he was dressed in a soft green tunic embroidered at its throat and cuffs with mithril emblems of the House of Oropher. Around his shoulders was a cape of velvet, so dark green that it was almost black unless the light hit it just so. The cape was fastened with a heavily jeweled clasp and on his head he wore one of the almost twin crowns of the youngest sons of Thranduil.

Aragorn saw the red stones glinting like priceless berries amid the leaves of mithril and gold. At the funeral for Theoden, Aragorn had once seen Legolas wear such a crown, but with blue stones among his golden hair instead of the red that now glittered among the black braids of Gilúviel.

That crown had somehow changed Legolas that day from their companion of old into a strange and regal creature, an elf prince of the Woodland Realm and skilled in all the courtesies and rituals of court. Even Gimli had been struck by the change and his ever-present teasing of the elf had grown quiet as he had seen other elves incline their heads or bow to the son of Thranduil. Thus did the red crown now work upon Gilúviel. He was no longer the quiet elf tending the needs of his brother. He stood tall and unmoving and fierce as he awaited his father. He was a prince and a dangerous one. Aragorn was suddenly glad that he could still count him as a friend. He would be too dangerous an enemy.

Orophin and Rúmil had worked with feverish haste to braid the prince’s long black hair into a pattern such as Aragorn had never seen, nothing like the simple warrior braids that the prince normally favored. Arwen had said it was what Thranduil required of his sons at the most formal court appearances. She herself had helped the prince return the favor with the silver hair of the Galadhrim.

Aragorn had groaned a bit inwardly as he watched their skilled fingers swiftly work, and he had thought of all the formalities that he himself must now learn to endure. He had wondered at Legolas’ laughing words of sympathy at his own coronation, but now he began to understand them. He promised himself some long serious talks with the two elven brothers. They could teach him much he needed to know. That is, if he survived their father.

For the first time since his wedding, Aragorn saw the Galadhrim in court dress. No simple uniforms were these. Soft grey blue tunics with darker blue capes made the silver hair of Rúmil and Orophin almost white to Elessar’s eyes. The gold of the circlets they wore stood out sharply against their braided hair. It was easy to forget that these three brothers had become as wards and sons to Celeborn and were under that great Lord’s protection as both father and king. Haldir alone still wore a uniform of sorts. He had retained the red cloak of a healer, pinned with the brooch of his Lady. The oldest of the three brothers stood slightly before his younger siblings and right behind the prince. Orophin towered above and behind both of them, and Aragorn suspected the elf was wishing he were shorter and more inconspicuous. Behind these three, stood Ohtar and a quickly assembled honor guard of elves.

Elessar glanced to his left and was grateful yet again to Arngrein and his captain. His own guard did him justice as Arwen had decreed when she thanked the sergeant for his quick thinking at the news of the king’s approach. Here were the finest soldiers of Gondor and only those most loyal to the king. All had been with Elessar at Cormallen and Pelennor, Arngreim had almost thrown Dalthor through the barrack window when the oaf had tried to insinuate himself into the select ranks he swiftly chose.

Aragorn looked again at his queen, and she nodded. He, in turn, nodded to Faramir. No less than the Steward of his kingdom would serve as the one who opened the doors to Thranduil.

*****

When Thranduil entered a room, he expected that what was necessary would have been done. He did not check on details in advance, but it was not good for any elf responsible if he noticed aught amiss. And, Thranduil’s eye was keen. He missed nothing. In his own realm, he was an absolute lord. In the lands of others, he was a king who could not safely be ignored. There was no arrogance about him, only power and ability. Thranduil had for centuries denied Sauron what he most desired. He knew his own powers, and he would use them.

He knew nothing of Denethor and would have cared even less had he been presented the facts. Only Faramir’s own bearing made the king take note of him at all. His mind registered that this was no servant who opened the door to him, and his nod was studiously neutral. He would determine Faramir’s place later, if it proved necessary to him. For now, he was merely one more for the woodland king to watch. Thranduil threw back the mane of golden hair that long had taunted the darkness of his realm and strode into the throne room of Gondor.

Eru! Seeing him on a horse at a distance did not prepare me. THAT is the tallest and broadest elf I have ever seen in my entire life. And, the most frightening. He even beats Glorfindel, and that I never thought to see. Ai, Elrond! Would that you were beside me with your counsel. Never have I missed your quiet strength and skill at court more than I do now. WHAT am I going to say to this one about what happened to Legolas in my country?

Before Aragorn had time to agonize further, he was astounded by the sight of Arwen jumping up from her throne as if a young girl seeing a favorite uncle. On light feet, she ran to Thranduil and held out her arms to him.

What is she doing? She told me how formal I must be, and now she is running at him like the merest elfling intent on a hug?

The room was long and Thranduil had time to consider the beautiful elf running towards him. To Aragorn’s amazement, he heard the great elf suddenly laugh. Arms were held out to Arwen, and she flew into them and was lifted from the ground and whirled in a circle.

"Elrond’s brat and now a queen! Ai, Arwen, you make me feel old! Can you really be a mother already and not just of a babe? ‘Tis not possible! I cannot be this old."

"You will never be old, dearest cousin! Never if you live to be older than time itself. You will always be the wondrous king of the Great Wood. Just look at this blond hair! I am jealous of your son even,and then I see you and feel as if I must crawl off and weep."

"Still the little flatterer, my Arwen! It is a charming trait in you even if I believe no word of what you tell me and never have. How beautiful you are! Is this human you have married still to your liking and does he treat you well? What was his name again?"

"Aragorn! Stop teasing me, you wretch! You are as bad as your sons! He is all that I would have him be, my lord, and he treats me better than ever I have deserved. Come, you must meet him. Long has he heard of Thranduil and never met him, even on that one trip where you let him into Mirkwood. Was that not rude of you, my lord Thranduil?" She laughed and hugged him again. "Come quickly and meet my husband!"

"Soft, child! Two duties call me first for here is my son come unto me, and I have not yet greeted him." Still keeping an arm around Arwen, Thranduil turned to acknowledge the approach of Gilúviel. The dark elf sank gracefully to both knees before his father and bent his head to his king, his right hand over his heart.

"My lord and my liege, long have I desired thy presence. I greet thee and earnestly wish that thy stay be a long one. I have missed thee, my father."

Releasing Arwen, the king walked to his son. Strong hands raised Gilúviel from his knees and stronger arms pulled him close. No king embraced Gilúviel. Instead, he was again safe in his father’s arms and breathing the scent of the Great Wood that permeated the tall warrior’s body. Neither spoke for long moments as Thranduil cherished his son against him and buried his face in the soft black hair so different from his own. In his heart, Thranduil thanked Ilúvatar that two sons were still his. His fear had been beyond measure for so many long weeks, and he had wept at the glad news that Gilúviel’s rider had brought to him as he approached Gondor. Softly and hidden in the neck of Gilúviel, Thranduil kissed his son many times and again wept a few tears of relief and joy. Gilúviel felt his father wipe these signs of weakness against his dark hair and tightened his own arms around Thranduil’s waist. He was no longer alone protecting Legolas. Adar was here. All would be well.

"My love, ever have I been patient and attended until you spoke. You will forgive this poor elven mother if she now demands her turn?"

Thranduil saw the face of his son transfixed at the few words just spoken, and suddenly the king roared with the laughter that had been so long lost in him.

"Ai, Lalaith! What will you do to your poor husband! Son, here is your mother. Pray put in a good word with her for your poor frightened father." Thranduil’s whole being seemed to embrace his wife although he made no move to touch her.

A shadowy figure who had stood heavily cloaked near the door, she now dropped the hood of her cloak to reveal a creature of such radiance that Aragorn almost gasped aloud. He saw Faramir step back with awe on his face. The Steward knew little of elves,and this one’s beauty almost frightened him.

She was taller than most elven women and straight as a reed. Slender and graceful was she and clad in soft green that was almost grey. About her shoulders and to her waist flowed hair of the softest rose-colored blonde. Her face was as nothing on Arda, and her eyes were of a blue so deep that Anar might well be lost in the color and forget the sky. Aragorn was not sure he could speak before her and was again grateful to Arwen who ran to her and was embraced warmly but briefly. Lalaith had eyes for none but her son.

"Naneth? You have journeyed so far from home?" The dark elf’s voice trembled with longing to be held by this creature. It took all Gilúviel’s control and training to bow to his mother and stay still.

"For my sons, there is no distance great enough to deter me." She pulled Gilúviel close against her heart and let him know that she was again there to keep him safe. "Legolas? You have truly kept him for us, my child?" Her white hands stroked the dark hair of her quiet one.

"He lives and will grow strong again, Naneth. Not by my skill but that of Haldir and Radagast. Never must we forget what they have done for us."

Lalaith’s beautiful eyes shut, and she clung to her son. The child she had loved into her own being was telling her that the child she had carried in her womb and bore would live. Never would she forget the joy of this moment. "I must be taken to him at once."

"Soon, my lady wife! Let us not forget duty in our joy. Arwen would bring us to this one she has married. We need to greet him e’er we go to our son."

Thranduil extended his arm to the tall elven woman. Every inch his queen, she took it and with regal grace walked towards the throne of Gondor. Aragorn stood at her approach and when she dropped in graceful curtsey, he found his voice at last.

"My lady queen Lalaith, I bid you welcome to Gondor. No formalities more shall I subject upon you. Let me personally escort you both to your son."

Thranduil inclined his head to Aragorn’s wishes, but, as ever, his was the last word, however silent it might be. His eyes sought those of his own warrior Ohtar and nodded that he should follow. Ohtar was of the Fifteen, and his king was now before him. Ohtar, the keeper of elven horses in Gondor, was again what he had been for centuries, a personal guard of Thranduil and protector of his children. He followed his king and asked no leave of Elessar to do so.

*****

Legolas was sleeping when they entered. He spent much of each day in sleep, for he was still weak and thin and tired easily. He was allowed to walk briefly now if he leaned on a protective arm, but he tired after one turn about the room. Often, Haldir still had to carry him back to the bed. Yet, he grew stronger daily and that was enough for his healers. After Thranduil’s departure from the throne room, Haldir had gone off to tend the elves in the barracks and treat the myriad small injuries that could occur in any day. Thus, it was Radagast who kept watch by the prince’s bedside.

"Ah, my dears! I am so glad that you have finally arrived. Such a long journey, but it ends well." The wizard beamed at the king and queen of Mirkwood as they approached. Lalaith bent to kiss the wizard’s cheek and gasped as she first caught sight of her son’s face.

"How thin he is! What has been done to my child? Thranduil, behold our son!" The king moved forward and put his arm around her waist. His face darkened in anger as he looked down at Legolas. Lalaith’s own blue eyes were flashing dangerously. Radagast laughed at the roused cats ready to defend their young.

"Now, do not be alarmed either of you! He is looking quite well all things considered. It will be a long and slow process, dears. Forget all that nonsense about swift elven healing. Not this time! But, we still have him,and that is what counts in the end. Thranduil, brighten your face and put that anger back in your pocket. Lalaith, your kitten is safe,and your fur need not ruffle. Legolas’ first sight of you two shall not be of storm clouds!" Radagast shook his head at the king in exasperation at the famous temper of Thranduil and the velvet ice of his queen.

Did he just reprimand Thranduil and Lalaith both? Radagast, I bow to you. Gandalf was quite right that only a fool would underestimate you.

Aragorn watched the elven king closely. For a moment, he thought there would be an explosion, and then he saw Lalaith softly touch the king’s arm and draw in her claws. The huge and powerful elf looked at his slender wife and seemed lost in thought.

Then, Thranduil laughed and also shook his head, his golden mane flying. "Still no respect do I ever get from you, friend Radagast! Yet, your words bring me comfort as always." He turned and grasped the old hands firmly in his own. "I long to hold my son in my arms and let him wake there. Will it hurt him if I do so?"

"Precisely the medicine that I would prescribe for him! Haldir has had this couch brought here so that you and Lalaith may sit together and hold your son."

With that, Lalaith gently drew back the cover from her sleeping son and helped her husband get his arms beneath him. Thranduil straightened with his loved burden and carried Legolas to the couch. It hurt his heart that the weight he carried seemed so slight. The king was so gentle that Legolas stirred only briefly in his sleep. Lalaith followed with warm woolen throws and covered their son against the chill of the air. Then, she sat close beside her husband, stroking the thin legs he placed across her lap and covering them as well against the cold. She kept her beautiful hands constantly on Legolas, as if she feared to lose him if she let go.

Thranduil touched the face of his sleeping son and murmured words of gentleness so low that none save Lalaith could hear them. She smiled at her husband and leaned against him. Gilúviel came then to sit beside his mother and make their family complete. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. There were no words necessary among them all. They would watch together over Legolas.

Almost as if sensing the eyes upon him, Legolas began to awaken. He did this slowly of late because of his weakness, and it was a moment before his blue eyes could focus on the two faces looking at him with such tender anxiety. Confusion filled his face for a moment.

"Ada? Am I dreaming? You and Naneth are here?" Thranduil bent and kissed his son full on the lips, and Legolas felt his mother’s gentle hands tighten softly upon his legs. Suddenly, a smile of complete and total happiness brightened his face and brought tears to his parents’ eyes. "You are real," breathed Legolas in awe.

"We are real, my son. It has been a long journey, but we are here, and we will keep you safe. Sleep again, little one. We will be here when you awake. I promise. Sleep and grow strong." Thranduil spoke softly and kissed his son’s cheek. He smiled as Legolas’ thin fingers reached and touched his own cheek and traced its angles, as if seeking reassurance that Thranduil was no dream. Thranduil caught the fingertips in his teeth with mock ferocity as they traced his lips, a game that had always made his young children laugh. Legolas remembered as well and smiled as he snuggled against his father’s chest. Here he was safe.

Lalaith began to sing then to her son, a simple lullabye from those times long ago when she carried him as a baby in her arms. Lulled by the sound of his past, Legolas’ eyes grew heavy again and he slept, his fingers twined in the golden hair of Thranduil.

*****

Pippin was in love. Completely and totally in love. He gazed at Lalaith in complete worship as she laughingly inspected the Aerie with Sam and Gimli as her guides. He could not wait until her attention again turned upon him.

"That is fine stonework, Master Gimli! My son speaks truly of your skill. Pray tell me of this stone, for its color is exquisite, and I confess I envy King Elessar to have such beauty here in his courtyard." Lalaith inclined her head to Gimli as if he were the only creature in all of Arda who could command her attention. Legolas smiled as he saw his friend sink beneath the waves of his mother’s charm. He did not blame Gimli. He had seen none survive upon whom Lalaith had focused her charms. And, it was no act on her part.

She would be genuinely interested in the stone and, years later, would recognize it again and tell you of what the dwarf had said about it. Legolas had a strong feeling that Gimli would find himself consulted when he finally visited the Great Wood. Lalaith’s gardens were her joy, and his stonework would suit them. This made Legolas’ heart very happy, and he smiled down at Pippin, sitting on the ground near his own couch. The day was good. The first that his healers had allowed him to lie here in the sunshine with the breezes touching his body. Legolas felt a wholeness that had long been missing as the sun and gentle breezed caressed him.

The same effect did Lalaith weave with the hobbits. With Sam, she discussed gardens and sought his advice. She promised he would have whatever he wished of the plants in her own gardens and Legolas knew she would remember her promise. She queried Merry and Pippin all about the Shire and their experiences in the late war. Each felt that to him alone did she listen and told her things known only to themselves. Lalaith had smiled and told them they were brave and worthy of honor. For the first time, they had really believed that simple fact.

When she promised Pippin that she would one day visit the Shire and bring Thranduil, his mouth had dropped and he had stared until Merry punched him. Legolas promised himself that he and Mîr would be with their parents on that visit. He knew Lalaith never promised what she did not give, and he longed to see his father confronted with Hobbiton and Hobbiton with the King of the Woodland Realm.

With Rosie, the friendship was of two mothers. Their heads would be close together as they compared notes on the trouble that elflings and hobbit lads and lasses could be. Lalaith was teaching Rosie to embroider and had gifted her with thread of silk and mithril. Legolas suspected that as they stitched they also discussed husbands, but they were careful to let no one else hear. Sam and Thranduil remained blissful in their ignorance.

So absorbed had all become in their afternoon’s outing, that none noticed the approach of an intruder. The courtyard had been cleared of humans and even Thranduil had thought it safe for his son to be there with only Ohtar and Arngrein to guard him and granted Legolas’ pleas that he be allowed to enjoy his friends without a fence of elven guards. Thranduil would never make that mistake again in Gondor.

Legolas watched as his mother again approached his bedside. She was smiling at him, and then he saw her suddenly freeze. Ohtar and Lalaith at the same time saw the intruder weave drunkenly towards Legolas, filthy hands extended to seize and hurt the prince. With a low growl, Ohtar launched himself towards Dalthor, and Arngrein followed him.

He was too far away. He would never reach the prince before those hands defiled him or sought some other greater evil. Ohtar knew fear as he had never before known it. He was about to fail his king. He watched Legolas raise his weakened arms in a trained reaction to ward off danger. It provided that brief moment that was necessary to save his life.

Suddenly, the sky that had been sunny darkened, and the winds began to blow. Pippin and Merry looked at Lalaith and drew back in fright.

The gentle elven woman was no more. In her place, a creature of light and power seemed to grow before their eyes. Lalaith lifted her hand and pointed it at Dalthor, speaking words in a language none but Legolas and Ohtar could understand. She spoke in Silvan, and the elements that were bound to the wood-elves swiftly obeyed her.

The wind grew greater and encircled the man in its whirlwinds and from the sky suddenly came flying a great number of hawks and falcons. The fierce birds flew at Dalthor and tore at his flesh and sought his eyes. Lalaith moved swiftly towards her son’s side and continued to murmur softly. She placed herself between Legolas and his attacker and held the Gondorian soldier with her eyes. Thunder rolled suddenly in the cloudless sky, and Dalthor fell to his knees in abject fear. Ohtar grabbed him and pulled him away from Legolas, siezing the wicked knife from his grasp. He and Arngrein were not gentle with their captive.

Lalaith spoke again and the wind calmed and the thunder ceased at once. She bowed to the still circling birds of prey, and they suddenly took wing for the heights of the sky.

"You are unhurt, my son?" Softly, she kissed him, and he lay back against his pillows, exhausted by his own fighting effort that had bought his mother the time she needed. It had been many years since he had seen his mother as others who had called down her wrath. He remembered the whispered tales he had heard growing up. He sometimes forgot her power because he bathed only in the light of her love. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"I am well, Naneth. Thank you. Ever do you keep all of the wood-elves safe." She smiled at him and picked up her embroidery. Serenely, she watched Arngrein dragging Dalthor to a place she expected he would not find too comfortable. Lalaith smiled and began to stitch

Chapter 10 - Legolas

"He would have gone further east, Radagast, to nurse his treachery and grow strong. Saruman was never a fool. At this time, he knows we can do little there to reach him." As ever, Thranduil spoke to the wizard alone and not Elessar. Radagast smiled at his old friend and braced for trouble.

Old habits die hard in you, Thranduil. Men are never to be trusted, are they? I suppose I should not blame you completely. You have suffered much at the treachery of men. You lost your father and too many of the children of your realm to the Last Alliance. You hate Isildur as you hate no other man. Still, to paint his descendant and all men not then born with the same brush will ever be one of your few weaknesses. This one here is worth your trust, Thranduil. May I be able to show you that!

The wizard thought of the many years he had known this elf and been his friend and ally. Even with all of that behind him, Radagast could not predict what Thranduil would do on this day.

"I believe you are right in this, Thranduil. I have had word last week from Alatar that there have been small signs of his evil presence. Now that I have alerted them, they are able to read his light and hidden footprints and have set a watch for him. You know that it will not be long before they can tell us at least in general where he is." Radagast reported all this in a cheerful tone, trying to extend the fragile truce in the room. He did not expect to be successful.

Thranduil nodded and looked pleased. Aragorn, however, felt even more confused and frustrated. Who are these beings of whom all but I seem knowledgeable? I have to get control of this kingdom and stand up to Thranduil. His respect must be earned is what Legolas once said. It has to happen now.

"Forgive me, Radagast, but you speak in riddles even more annoyingly than Gandalf. Who sets a watch for Saruman? Would you care to explain? No, I take that back. That was not a request. You will explain after I settle what I must now say." He looked at the wizard and thought he saw a flicker of encouragement in the ancient eyes.

Aragorn turned at the table and faced Thranduil. The grey eyes regarded him without wavering and showed none of his thinking. The elven lord merely waited without speaking, a technique honed over centuries to test the mettle of those he encountered. Aragorn felt the discomfort that he was intended to experience, but he was no coward and Elrond had taught him well on many things.

"My lord Thranduil, I extend you every courtesy of my realm, and I expect the same from you. Pray, talk not across the table to Radagast as if I do not exist. Like me or not, I care not. I am king of Gondor and in my realm I expect courtesy."

Thranduil moved not a muscle, but Aragorn sensed that those of the Fifteen in the room had become instantly more alert. Ohtar stepped directly behind his king, and the trained ears of a Ranger heard behind him the almost silent movements of other elven knives being loosened in scabbards and an arrow or two withdrawn from quivers, yet still held and not nocked. Even Haldir’s hand crept softly to the knife of his father and rested close, his grey eyes on Aragorn and wary. Then, no one moved or even seemed to breathe for a very long moment.

"Ah, the fabled courtesy of Gondor and its king!" Thranduil’s voice was a soft purr filled with menace. "Yes, my son knows well the courtesy of this kingdom. It is now legend among us. Your son Eldarion is healthy?"

"He is well as you know fully." Aragorn felt suddenly how dangerous this game was, and a dark cold grip his heart.

"Such a healthy child! It must be a joy to you to watch him run carelessly and without pain. He sleeps the night without crying out still from pain? No convulsions? He does not at times still vomit blood into the basin you hold for him? How I envy you, Elessar! Shall I claim his health as my wergeld for the harm done my son?"

"Touch my son, and you would die or I would. Know that, Thranduil."

"Adar, please!" Gilúviel stood from his chair and looked at his father, stopping himself only with his years of training from finishing his outcry. This was his king.

"My son?" A dangerous edge had crept into the king’s voice.

"My liege, I beg your indulgence that I may leave this meeting. This boon I ask humbly." Gilúviel bowed his head with respect and stood waiting for the decision. The humble and quiet waiting suddenly disturbed Thranduil and shook his resolve. He remembered another time and pushed the memory quickly away.

"It is granted. I will speak to you later." Gilúviel bowed to his king and to the king of Gondor and left the chamber quietly. As soon as the door closed behind him, he began to run towards the chambers of healing.

*****

"Naneth! Legolas, where is Naneth?" Startled, Legolas looked at his brother and started to answer.

"I am here, my son. What troubles you?" Lalaith turned from the table where she had been arranging roses for Legolas’ pleasure. Her quiet dark son was rarely so visibly upset.

"Naneth, I fear that Adar is about to start a war that we do not want or need. A black mood has come upon him because of the convulsions that he witnessed Legolas endure last night. He seems purposely intent on showing King Elessar such disrespect that he must react. Naneth, when I left he was hinting that, as wergeld, Eldarion should suffer equal pain to Legolas!"

"No, not for my sake! Strider is my friend! I love Eldarion. Naneth, I would die before I would cause this trouble. I cannot bear it." Legolas’ face was anguished. Gilúviel sat and put his strong arms around him, holding him close.

"Ai, Thranduil, my precious love!" Lalaith shook her head sadly. She loved her husband more than life, but she knew the darkness that could descend upon him at rare times without warning. Her eyes sought the faint scar still visible on Gilúviel’s neck, and she shuddered. "You did well to come to me, child. Legolas, this will require that you be brave and endure pain perhaps. Will you do it?"

Without hesitation, Legolas nodded. He thought only of Strider and Eldarion and his father. "What must I do, Naneth?"

"We shall go down to your father and invade his meeting. I know you are not strong enough yet, but it must be done. Mîr will carry you until the door, but then you must walk into the room with only his arm to support you. You alone have the right to shame your father from this folly. You are the one who has borne this pain that torments him more than even it does you. Will you bear this for your friends and your father?"

"I will bear any pain, Naneth, but what words must I say to him? At times, he does not wish to listen."

"He will listen for I shall be beside him. Speak your heart, Legolas. If you believe it, tell him that his enmity must cease. Only words you believe and that come from your heart will move your father, Legolas. Do not plan strategy. Speak your heart, and he will know it. We must go quickly. Mîr, wrap that cloak about your brother and bring those soft shoes for his feet. You must carry him. Are you able?"

"He has the weight of a bird, Naneth. I wish that I could not carry him, but I can easily." He handed her the shoes and helped Legolas to sit up on the bed. Lalaith put the shoes on Legolas’ feet and helped Gilúviel wrap the cloak about his brother and fasten it.

The queen paused a moment with her thoughts and then kissed each son gently. She nodded to Gilúviel, who bent and carefully gathered his brother into his arms. Legolas wearily lay his head in the hollow of his brother’s neck, and felt soft lips kiss him. He could feel Gilúviel’s heart beating more rapidly than normal within his chest, as if he were on the edge of a great battle. Legolas felt his own heart ache under the weight of hatred that had been borne for too long. Hatred that had almost killed him and now must end. Softly, his own lips kissed his brother’s neck. He was ready.

*****

In the Great Wood, two laws ruled above all others: Queen Lalaith was allowed to Thranduil without hindrance or question, and the duty of any warrior was to protect her before even the king or their children.

Whatever his own thoughts at the approach of the queen with one son carrying the other, Thalion of the Fifteen gave no sign as he guarded the door.

He watched as Prince Gilúviel put his brother upon his feet and steadied him. It was the first time Thalion had seen Prince Legolas since their arrival in Minas Tirith, and the sight of the thin figure tore at his soul. The royal family was beloved to all in the Great Wood, but the Fifteen surrendered their very lives to them and for them, and Thalion’s noble heart filled with rage at what had been done to Legolas. Saruman and his filth would pay for this. His face betrayed nothing of this sudden resolve.

"Good Thalion, pray open this door without sound and let us enter. I would see my husband." Lalaith nodded serenely at him. To her people, Lalaith was ever calm and a source of strength. Her own heart’s terrors she had learned well to hide. Softly, Thalion opened the door to his queen and her children.

The sound of loud and angry voices assaulted them at once. Aragorn had totally lost control of his temper, and Legolas saw this with amazement. Strider was almost at Thranduil’s throat. Only Radagast’s strong old arms holding him had restrained his forward rush. Ohtar’s arrow was trained upon the king of Gondor’s head and would not miss if the human came one step closer to his king.

At the risk of his own life and future, Haldir had dared to restrain his liege. Thranduil was far stronger than he, and Haldir knew that once his sheer surprise at Haldir’s actions passed the king would throw him violently against the wall, if he was lucky. If his luck failed, he would go through the open window and die on the courtyard far below. Haldir thought of his brothers and held on grimly for their sakes. Still, Celeborn would give him an honorable burial at least. Then, Doriath’s prince would go to war with Thranduil. Saruman was definitely winning this round thought Haldir! He felt Thranduil’s strong muscles gathering beneath his encircling arms and closed his eyes, breathing a prayer to Eru as he tried to hold the king tighter.

"My lord, I beg your permission to speak at a meeting that concerns me." Legolas’ voice was weak still and quiet, but somehow it cut through the chaos before him and stopped it. Thranduil threw Haldir off, but more softly than the Galadhrim had ever dared hope. He only hit the floor and bounced once. The king whirled and stared at his blond son before him.

"Legolas, you should be in bed! How dare you endanger your brother in this way, Mîr-Gilúviel? You shall answer for your actions."

"Nay, my lord, the action was mine alone. Had Mîr not carried me here, I would have dragged myself on my belly to reach this place. He knew this and chose the lesser evil I presented him. He but carried me. I am the one who chose to come here." Legolas leaned heavily on his brother’s arm, but his posture was erect and his head held proudly as a prince of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil saw the unsteadiness in the weakened legs and waved him to a nearby couch. Legolas ignored the unspoken order to sit. His boon had not yet been granted.

"My lord and my king, I repeat my request to speak at this meeting that concerns me."

"Permission is granted. Let us all resume our seats." Thranduil saw his queen come quietly and take the seat of Haldir beside him. Her hand lay gentle on his arm, and he breathed in more quietly at her smile. Lalaith kept her hand on his arm as they sat.

Haldir drew a more comfortable chair to the table and helped Gilúviel settle Legolas into it. As a healer, his whole being cried out against the prince’s presence in this room; the warrior in him knew that it was their only hope. He sat beside Legolas and kept watchful eyes on him for signs of physical distress.

Gilúviel took the other place beside Legolas and beckoned the king of Gondor to join them. Two elven princes sat with a human king to confront the wrath of Thranduil.

"My lord, I pray you hear me without interruption. My strength is still not as I would have it, and there is much that I would say before it fail me." Legolas spoke softly and looked at his father’s face. Thranduil found it difficult to meet the gentle eyes of his son.

"Your king will hear you, but only if you address him by the one title he values most. I am your adar, Legolas, before I am your king. Never forget that."

"I do not, Adar, for to be your son was ever my greatest gift. I may speak, then, as your son?" Thranduil nodded, and saw Legolas draw a deep and steadying breath. He was obviously in pain, but Thranduil knew stubborn determination when faced with it. He saw himself once again in his son. Legolas would speak. Thranduil could not stop him, and accepted the words that would come before they were even spoken.

"Adar, I know that you are troubled by what you beheld last night. I am healing, but the poison has not yet completely left my body. This is what caused the convulsions and made me frighten you with such an effusion of blood. I should have warned you that this might happen, and I ask your forgiveness that I did not. My joy at your arrival drove all else from my head. I know you were afraid for me, but Radagast tells me it is a good thing that this happens at times. It is how I rid myself of the last of the physical evil that Saruman has placed within me. Forgive me, Adar, that I did not warn you?" Thranduil nodded and saw the relief in both his sons’ eyes. Later, he would question them closely as to what else they might have "forgotten" to tell their father. Now, he remained silent and listened to Legolas.

"Adar, the hatred must end. Curunír’s worst poison is not what lingers in my body. It is the hatred he seeks to sow between races that have long been at least reluctant allies." Legolas dared not use the word "friends" to describe the alliance of elves and men that had cost Thranduil a bitter price, the bitterest of all the elven lords who had ever trusted men. His father and most of his warriors. To Thranduil, the name of Isildur was yet his most profane curse.

"Whatever you feel personally, Adar, you are too wise to let this wounded serpent further deceive you." Legolas lifted his head and looked directly into his father’s eyes.

Beneath the table, Aragorn saw Gilúviel reach across and take his brother’s hand. None else at the table were aware of the gesture, but it strengthened Legolas and gave him courage as he held the strong fingers tightly.

Mîr would stand with me before Morgoth himself! He is my brother and my strength when my own is gone, and he will not fail me.

"I have borne the injury that stirs your wrath, Adar. For months now, I have borne the pain. I heard the call from Námo and went to answer it until Radagast pulled me back. By the customs and laws of our people, is it not my right to claim recompense for it and not yours? Only my death would give the right to you, Adar? Is this correct?" 

Thranduil watched his son and wondered at this strange question, but he answered truthfully, "You are correct, my son. Ask what you will of this human after his treachery. Celeborn and I and our armies to the last warrior will support you and see your claimed justice done.From Elladan and Elrohir, I have also had word this morning that Imladris is with us. If we send word, all the elves remaining in this accursed abode of mortals will come. If you will it, we will raze this city."

In his chair, Aragorn sat in desperate silence. This morning, Faramir had told him that a messenger from Imladris had ridden wildly through the city gates and been taken straight to Thranduil’s presence. Now, the king knew why.

Elladan! Elrohir! You are my brothers. You helped raise me and kept me always from harm. What madness has come that now we would take up arms against each other? Do you no longer remember the love you had for the small child brought to Imladris for safety? You are my brothers. I have always loved you.

Gilúviel saw the torment in the young king’s eyes and pitied him and his elven brothers. What would his own torment be if he were ever forced to take arms against one of his own brothers? Against Aldamir or Erelas or Legolas? Would he not defy the Valar and take his own life first? He tightened his fingers around those of Legolas and mourned at the evil that had come upon them all.

"Adar, I wish no harm to come to this city or its people. The ignorance of the poorest of its people and their vulnerability to Saruman’s wiles does not merit death. I fought not too long ago to keep them safe. If he agree, I will ask two things of the king of Gondor. If he grant them, I will account his debt absolved, and ask you to honor this settlement. Elessar Telcontar, will you grant me my wergeld?"

Aragorn looked at the one who had walked the long miles by his side to the very Paths of the Dead.

"I will grant what you ask, Legolas Thranduilion."

Raising his head, Legolas steadied his voice and spoke softly, "First, I would claim Eldarion."

Aragorn started to rise in anger, but something in the elf’s eyes held him still.

"I would claim Eldarion as my child as well as yours. I would ask you to let me share in his raising and teach him what it means to be an elf, so that he may one day continue to teach his people as you will. I would have the next king of Gondor never forget that the First Born are also his people and have love for him and his country that he must rule. Elves have given up their immortality and died for Gondor and already this land begins to forget. This must change, King Elessar."

Legolas smiled at Aragorn to take some of the sharpness from his words, and the king felt his fear leave him. He acknowledged that there was much work to do, but here was a friend who would help him and Eldarion.

"I give you the part of my son’s heart that you already own, Legolas. He shall be yours as much as mine and Arwen’s and in Ithilien and here he shall learn what it is to be an elf."

"For the greatest gift of my life, I thank you, King Elessar. Adar, Eldarion is now my son and your grandchild. Protect him for me and love him?"

Thranduil’s eyes met those of his son, and he nodded. On his arm, he felt Lalaith’s fingers tighten in approval. "My son, you said that there were two things you would ask?"

"The second I ask of two kings, Adar. I ask that they both rise and greet one another in peace, so that we may begin anew and fight the real enemy together. Will these kings grant the wish of a mere prince?"

To the amazement of all, Thranduil was the first to rise. He came to Aragorn and extended his hand to the king of Gondor, a human. The significance of this proud king coming to Aragorn was not lost on any elf in the room.

Radagast smiled in secret delight. He thought to himself that, if any of the Fifteen present had ever been prone to lose control of their expressions, this would have been the moment. Look at that training! Centuries of it! Not a single muscle in any face has flickered from the impassive control that was ever on their faces. And, Legolas! Ah, Lalaith! Thy son also has magic if he can move these two stubborn kings together. You have done well in his raising.

Aragorn clasped the elven lord’s arm in a warrior’s handshake. He was surprised at the raw strength of the hand of Thranduil that grasped his own arm. That hand had held Sauron at bay for more years than the young king had yet lived. Aragorn’s eyes met those of the elf and saw the first signs of respect there.

"Well, now that we have settled this unpleasant rift, perhaps we should move on to the report that Haldir has brought us?" Radagast’s ever cheerful voice broke the tension for a moment. The moment lasted long enough for Legolas to suddenly turn paler and faint.

*****

"Radagast, I am fine! I merely fainted from the exertion of walking! If you pour one more of those vile-tasting potions into my stomach right now, I shall lose all that have gone before and probably all over your robes."

"Was that a threat, young elf? It is not wise to threaten the wizard who has you in his care." Radagast advanced towards the bed, the medicine cup held out before him.

Legolas glared at the Istar, and his face grew more mutinous. His stomach was really churning and out of the corner of his eye he saw Gilúviel bend to pull a basin from beneath the bed.

"Radagast?" Gilúviel’s voice was too innocent sounding. Legolas eyed his brother suspiciously but could not say anything. He was too busy keeping his lips firmly clasped against the vile concoction over which his stomach rebelled.

"Yes, Mîr?"

The dark eyes looked at the wizard with great respect and deference. This was the expression that had kept Gilúviel out of trouble growing up with his brother and cousin, even on the rare occasions that he was just as guilty as they were. "Perhaps three doses of your wonderful herb tonic might be enough for now? I think part of the problem may be that Legolas has had nothing to eat since morning. Would that be a cause of fainting, Radagast?"

"Not eaten! No wonder he fainted. You know he is supposed to eat every two hours." The wizard showed every sign of extended fussing and fretting, so Gilúviel interrupted quickly.

"Yes, Radagast, we know that, but there was a little urgency about our departure for the meeting. Naneth did seem to think that Adar might suddenly make the newest king of Gondor have a very short reign. Perhaps, you could see Rosie and tell her just what Legolas needs to eat right now? He looks very much to me as if he should eat directly. I do not like his color at all. Leave the cup with the medicine to me. I shall take care of that matter for you."

The good-hearted wizard bustled off at this, leaving the medicine cup behind on the table. When he was safely out of sight, Gilúviel emptied the cup out the window.

"You swallowed that one, brother, and do not get me into trouble with the wizard by denying it. After all, you would not want a frog for a brother, would you? Are you alright?" Gilúviel sat on the bed and touched his brother’s pale and tired face softly as he helped him to lie back against the pillows.

"Just tired, and my stomach does feel as if it wants to betray me. I hate being like this, Mîr! I hate being weak."

"You are not weak. If you were weak, we would have buried you last month. It will take time, Legolas. You were almost taken from me, and I will not lose you now. You must be patient with us if we worry. It is only because of our love." He continued to stroke Legolas’ hair and smiled as the rebellion faded from the blue eyes.

"I know. I did not mean to be unpleasant to Radagast. I will apologize. Mîr, is there nothing I can do to help? I see you and Rúmil and Orophin all getting ready for this fight, and here lies Legolas the Useless."

"A new title? I care not for it, dear brother. You cannot ride, and you cannot use your bow, that is true. But, you can still use your greatest weapon just as you did today in preventing the first war of elves and men."

Seeing the confusion in his brother’s eyes, Gilúviel smiled and tapped the forehead he had just been stroking. "Legolas, has Adar not taught us that our most valuable weapon is always our mind? I have brought the reports that were discussed after you left. Read them in the morning and tomorrow afternoon you shall help me figure out what to do about the intrigue among the humans here in Gondor. That is the task that Adar sets your poor brother. He has need of your mind and your help. Will you give it?"

Two thin arms found their way around Gilúviel’s neck then, and Legolas embraced his brother without further words. All their lives they had been so close as to seldom need words between them. Gently, Gilúviel lay his brother down again, but kept hold of his hand.

"Mîr?"

"Yes, Legolas?"

"Radagast will bring back pudding. He had that cursed pudding look in his eye as he left. I feel this in my bones. My courtesy to him having failed, I will have no choice but to eat it."

Gilúviel began to laugh at the long-suffering look on his brother’s face at the idea of pudding, and he could not stop. Legolas had faced down death and Thranduil, and now he worried that he must eat pudding! 

Mildly outraged at first at his brother’s reaction, Legolas suddenly saw the humor, and he too began to laugh. Radagast returned to find them gasping and clinging to one another. He looked even more puzzled as he set the delicious pudding he carried down, and this produced yet another fit of laughter from the two brothers.

"Well, my dears, laughter is an excellent tonic, but you must get a little food into you, Legolas. Rosie is fixing you something extra special, and I have brought you a nice pudding to hold you until it is done."

"I am sorry for my disrespect before, Radagast. I will eat your pudding to make you happy." Legolas knew his duty, but his face was miserable at the prospect. The wizard gave him a pleased look that was some reward but not quite enough.

"You are tired, brother, let me help by feeding it to you. Would that be alright, Radagast?" Legolas started to protest that he was not helpless when an almost imperceptible shake of his brother’s head stopped him. Gilúviel suddenly reminded Legolas of their cousin. He had the exact same absorbed expression Daeron got when calculating if the risk of the combined wrath of their older brothers was worth the satisfaction he, Legolas and Gilúviel would derive if they succeeded in playing a trick on the old ones. Legolas smiled and kept silent.

The wizard nodded in a preoccupied way and set to work again on the herbs he had been preparing earlier. Gilúviel sat down carefully so that his body blocked Legolas from his healer’s view. It was an enormous bowl of pudding, and Gilúviel had seen his brother looking at it with loathing. Quickly, he ate two spoons of it himself and fed only the third one to Legolas, and thus they continued until the bowl was empty and the wizard content.

*****

"Lalaith, he is a dwarf." The queen smiled at her husband serenely and continued stitching on the new gown she was embroidering for Legolas.

"Yes, my love, he is a dwarf. And, he is a very sweet one at that."

"Lalaith, dwarves are not sweet. Just ask anyone who was at Doriath."

Thranduil placed the goblet of wine on the small table near his wife and sat down across from her holding his own. Thranduil always said the best and only rest his eyes needed was to look upon his wife’s face. He tasted the wine and savored it. Darwinion. Celeborn had sent it. Thranduil appreciated again his most excellent friend. The wine in Gondor was not to his exacting taste.

"Yes, Doriath does present a problem in considering dwarves. I do admit that. Still, Gimli was a mere babe I am sure, and I believe it may not have been even his. . .Thranduil, what does one call a kin group of dwarves exactly?"

"Warg pack?" The answer almost startled her, until she saw the wicked gleam in his eyes. She laughed and threw a small pillow at his head. He caught it easily, without even making the wine in his cup move.

"Fie, Thranduil! Gimli is certainly no warg!"

"How can you tell, wife, with all that beard and bushy hair?" Lalaith and Celeborn were the only two left on Arda whom Thranduil still teased. There had been others once, in happier days.

Aldamir and Tarondor had been the others, his brothers in all but blood. So many years gone since they died. Still the king’s heart bled as freshly as it had on the two separate times that he had faced the death of a childhood friend from Doriath.

Aldamir was the father of Mîr and for him Thranduil had named his first child. He remembered the laughter they had all shared as the tiny baby had been named and blessed by the family. Aldamir had joked in a loud voice with Tarondor that he hoped that the newborn would grow up to be not as ugly as Thranduil and then both had run from the king’s mock wrath.

Tarondor was the father of Seregon and Daeron, his nephews, and the older brother of Lalaith. For him, Thranduil had put aside his own grief to comfort Lalaith and Tarondor’s wife and sons. Those two elves had been as brothers to Thranduil, and he would never cease mourning their loss. They lived in the deep places in his heart that only Lalaith was allowed to see.

Thranduil sighed and put aside his sad thoughts to continue to attend his wife. Lalaith had been so frightened during the journey to Gondor. Never had his beautiful one shown fear to him before. It had maddened him that he was so helpless to drive that fear from her eyes; he who had pledged always to keep her safe had felt so helpless. It had made him lust for revenge on the realm of Gondor for the hurt to his son and the fear of his wife.

The anger had simmered and bubbled over today after a night of holding Legolas and seeing just a small part of the pain he had endured. Thranduil cringed to think that he had implied a threat to Eldarion. Thranduil had a heart as soft as down when it came to the young of any creature. He could not even kill a doe if he saw her fawn next to her, and now he had threatened hurt to a child? That he would never do it did not matter. He had made the threat to the child’s father.

And, today you frightened her again! Thranduil, you are a fool, and Oropher was right. Adar said the only thing that could ever beat me in battle was my own temper, that could make me lash out blindly and without thought. Still, she says nothing to reproach me, and talks instead of dwarves.

No, a dwarf. Gimli the Dwarf. Son of Glóin, of all cursed dwarves on Arda. Gimli, Son of Glóin. Best friend of Legolas Thranduilion. My son. What is Arda come to if dwarves and elves are best friends? And, Lalaith wants to invite this dwarf to a gathering here in our private chambers? Ai, Valar! I can hear Oropher grumbling in Mandos at the very idea!

"I can tell, my husband, because I have taken the trouble to speak to this warg as you name him. And, Mîr has told me of the constant care he gave to both our sons these last months. How he sat with Legolas so that Mîr could sleep a few hours. He was the only one Mîr trusted enough to take rest while Gimli watched."

"I have sat with Legolas for each night that we have been here, and never once have I seen this dwarf."

"Because, indeed, you sat with Legolas. Gimli is well aware of your contempt for his race and the ill will between yourself and his father. He comes during the day, while I am there, and makes excuse to Legolas, so that he will not be hurt that you would not welcome his friend. How long do you think it will be before Legolas makes note of these kind lies? He does not notice yet because his joy in just being with you drives all from his mind, but soon the thought will bring him more pain."

Thranduil placed his goblet on the table and rose and walked over to where his wife sat. Gracefully, he knelt and took both her hands in his large ones, enfolding them softly and kissing them.

"I behaved badly today, Lalaith, and you have not reproached me with a single word or look. I threatened a child! The damage I could have done was beyond belief, and still you say none of the cutting words that I so well earned. What have I done to deserve you?"

"You were born Thranduil, the greatest elf that ever lived and the only one that I could love. I loved you from when I was a child, and I first laid eyes upon you, husband. Do you not remember the tiny elf always peering at you from behind the safety of her brother Tarondor or my naneth’s skirts?"

"I remember well the child who made me laugh and forget war. How I envied Tarondor when you would creep into his lap and fall asleep as our boring talks droned on through the evening. I remember always how his strong fingers would play with your curls and how much he loved you. I missed you, Lalaith, when they sent you away from the Great Wood for safety. When you returned from Lórien, your beauty took my breath from my body, and I wanted only you." Thranduil’s voice grew softer and his kisses on her hands more gentle.

"If you were attracted to me, you certainly hid that well, my Lalaith. Was it not two years that you made me court you before you would even consent to let me take you to the Solstice festival?"

"Well, you were very arrogant, Thranduil, and so sure that no elleth could resist your charms. You know what I am with a challenge! I had to prove to you that at least one elleth could resist that golden hair and those broad shoulders. Besides, did the kiss not taste sweeter when you finally got it?"

He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them again with growing passion. "No wine nor honey could ever be sweeter, Lalaith." Thranduil sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning his head against her knees. He closed his eyes at the feel of his wife’s fingers playing with his hair. "So, you want to give a party for a dwarf in our chambers?"

"I think it would be a nice gesture if you approve?"

"I suppose those odd little furry ones will also be on the guest list?"

"The hobbits? Yes, I am sure we must have all the hobbits. Lovely creatures, hobbits. Thranduil, they live not all that far from our realm, and I knew nothing of them!"

"A dwarf and all the hobbits. A few humans, no doubt?"

"I thought Aragorn and Arwen with Eldarion. Also, I thought Sulka and her son Gurth, since they shared so much time with Legolas. And Faramir and Éowyn and that lovely man Girion, the one who is Arngrein’s captain. Of course, Arngrein himself. He and Ohtar have become such friends. Ohtar must come, so I shall schedule this on one of his nights off duty."

"Ah, Ohtar will come! You will actually include elves on your guest list, my darling?"

"Certainly elves, Thranduil! What strange ideas you have. All of our youngest together except Daeron. Do you remember the last party we had with Legolas, Mîr, Orophin and Rúmil all at home at one time?" Lalaith’s face softened at the memory of her brood gathered together.

"I seem to remember that it was for Daeron’s begetting day, and our four young hounds of Sauron thought it would be quite funny to hide spiders in Daeron’s first gift. Legolas’ or Rúmil’s creative thinking I am sure." Suddenly, Thranduil laughed. His nephew was one of the bravest elves he knew except for one thing. He was terrified of spiders.

Thranduil had never seen an elf leap as high as Daeron when he opened his first present. The fact that Legolas had also "accidently" dropped the bag with the remaining spiders at just that moment had made this one of the events still talked of at the palace.

Aldamir, Erelas, and Haldir had spent over an hour hunting the fugitive spiders their younger brothers had loosed, while Thranduil and Daeron’s brother Seregon had tried unsuccessfully to convince the novice warrior to come down off his refuge on the ledge over the great fireplace.

Thranduil could still almost hear the shrill screaming of that annoying elleth Miriel, who had done nothing to help the whole situation. At least Isilya had swatted at the spiders with her dancing slippers and shouted encouragement to Daeron, but then she was Ohtar’s daughter and had a warrior heart of her own. He smiled at the memory of the chaotic night.

"Well, my darling Lalaith, if you want to have a party for a dwarf and these furry hobbits and humans and our own elves, I shall be charming to all, even the dwarf. You have my word on this, wife. All I want is your happiness on this matter."

Her brilliant smile was all that Thranduil sought. The fact that she became even more interested in his golden hair and then announced she was tired and ready for bed was just a side benefit he told himself.

Gallantly, he took her into his arms and carried her towards their bedchamber. As he was kissing her neck, he suddenly remembered poor Daeron’s screams as he had finally retired to his room after his party. Spiders. Beneath his blankets.

Thranduil made a mental note to check before he slid beneath his own sheets. After all, Legolas was the son of Lalaith. . .

*****

"Sulka, are you sure of what you say and that you wish to do this?" Haldir looked at the woman. He believed her, but his heart misgave him at the danger she faced. "He is your husband and Gurth’s father," said Haldir so softly that she drew closer to hear him. The softness male elven voices often had was something to which she could not yet become accustomed. The males in her life had ever been loud and harsh. It was the women she had learned that were quiet. It was easier to survive in her world if the men did not always hear you.

"If Adros is Gurth’s father, it is through no choice of mine. I was given to him at the age of thirteen in payment of debt my father owed him. I am fortunate that my father could at least insist on a marriage, so that Gurth bears no stain upon his birth."

"Your father gave you as payment of a debt?" The horror in the elf’s voice surprised Sulka. It was common among the poor. Adros had coveted her, and she had despised him as her father well knew. Still, the debt was due, and there was no money. Her father had been beaten and robbed of the payment. Adros demanded the workshop and his tools or the hand of his daughter. Without the workshop, the rest of her family would starve. Sulka had made the choice for her distraught father. The old man’s heart had broken as he demanded at least marriage for his favorite child.

"It was necessary, Haldir. My father did not force me. But, six others would have starved had I not agreed to the marriage. It is the past. Do not let it trouble you. It seems that this is not the way among elves?" She was curious. Each day now she discovered that things she thought were always done were different among the other races of Arda.

"No, it is not our way, but I do not judge if you do not. As you say, it is the past." He shrugged and took the bread and cheese she handed him. They were seated not far from the elves’ barrack where she had found him. It was private here, and no one could overhear. They could keep their eyes on Gurth and Eldarion, but still let the boys play on their own. It had become the custom of the elf and the woman to meet for lunch and to talk.

Haldir was teaching Gurth to read and write now. Sulka’s gratitude at the chance for her son had been so great that it overcame her pride at taking Haldir’s offered gift. Still, to be indebted was not easy for her to bear, and the elf had sensed this. So, Haldir allowed her to bring him lunch. It soothed the pride in her that he had discovered was as great as his own. He told her that her cooking was sufficient payment for someone who had spent so many years eating warrior’s fare.

"What of Gurth?" Haldir looked at her with curiosity. She was the first human with whom he had ever really let himself speak. She surprised him often and made him think. Except for Gilúviel’s wife, Haldir hated humans or was, at best, indifferent to them. Except Sulka and Gurth. Haldir o Lórien knew three humans now. This disturbed him. His world was no longer so comfortably clear.

"He was the one who first overheard his father. He came to me in secret and spoke of his fears. Gurth loves Legolas and Gilúviel. But, most of all you, Haldir. He has no love for his father."

The elf made no sign that her words disturbed him. Gurth was a human child. He was nothing to Haldir except one he had healed by the grace of the Valar and with Radagast’s assistance. He was nothing to Haldir. The elf repeated that thought to himself often.

"Sulka, he is young. He thinks now he cares not for his father. Still, to betray a father is not something lightly done. Such deeds have ruined men and elves in the past."

She all but spat on the ground in her sudden rage. "A father? He has beaten Gurth from the time he could stand. He has made him watch as I was beaten. He has denied him food to fill his own stomach. He has denied him learning and knowledge and the company of other children. Eldarion is the first friend my son has been allowed to have. Watching him laugh and play delights me for I have never before seen it. And, my daughter? In a few more years, Adros will sell her to the highest bidder. He will not bother to ask for marriage for her. Do not call this one the father of my children, Haldir! Gurth and my daughter have received more kindness from you and the other elves in the last few months than ever they received from Adros in all the years of their young lives. We will repay our debt, Gurth and I. We will help the elves."

She was shaking and near to tears, and she was something he had never known before in his long life. Haldir looked at her face and forgot more of his hatred. Gently, he put a strong arm around her and drew her close.

"I will take you to King Thranduil. I will protect Gurth and Ilika. . .and you, Sulka. None shall harm you. Do not fear." Haldir o Lórien softly kissed the cheek of Sulka of Gondor and held her close against his side.

Chapter 11 - Haldir

Haldir was weary as he seldom was. There had been a bad accident late in the day, and three of the elven warriors had been seriously hurt. It had been close, but he had managed to pull them back from the edges of death. Long hours had he fought against their injuries, and he had won. They would live with no lasting harm. They would go home to their mothers to recuperate and then rejoin Thranduil’s forces. Ohtar would not have to write the letters home they both hated.

Young warriors were the ones who had the most accidents. These three had all been at most a hundred, perhaps less. Even Orophin was older than these three before Haldir had given permission for him to begin his real duty as a warrior. And, Orophin had been considered young at the time, just turned a hundred-two. He was allowed to move into the front-line battle ranks by the instructors only because of his formidable skill at all weapons.

Babies they were taking into service these days, thought Haldir. Too many elves had died in the war. The three today should have still been in training, not in the field.

He sniffed his tunic with distaste. It smelt of blood. His whole body smelt that way. He should have noticed and gone to the baths. He could not face the return trip now. He was just too tired.

Grimly, he walked towards the ewer and basin in the corner of the room. At this hour of the night, the boiling hot water that Orophin always remembered and left for him would have already turned to ice. Their windows faced north and, even in the very early spring of Gondor, it could be bitterly cold at night. He lit a candle near the washstand and peered into the ewer. Ice. Thin, but still ice. He poked at it with his finger and felt it shatter into glittery cold shards. Not giving himself more time to think, he poured it into the basin and dipped a cloth to begin washing his body as best he could. His flesh rebelled against the cold cloth, but he ignored it. Tomorrow he would bathe, but he could not inflict this blood scent on his brothers’ sleep tonight. He sniffed himself again. Better. Not blood at least. Orophin and Rúmil were used to his own scent, even unwashed, and that would not wake them.

Dropping the cloth in the basin, he rubbed himself hard with the drying cloth. It made the blood flow beneath his skin and warmed him a little. Smiling he noticed his night tunic laid out on the chair near the fire with a warm robe over it. Orophin. Every night it was there ready. Orophin had first begun this when he was merely an elfling. He had announced at dinner one night that Haldir took care of them, but no one took care of him. He, Orophin, he announced in a high and sweetly solemn childish voice would take care of Haldi as he called his oldest brother. Rúmil had started to laugh, but Haldir’s look had silenced him. Even then, Orophin had been all arms and legs as Haldir scooped him up and buried his face in the childish body to thank him.

For over two centuries now, if they were together in a sheltered place, Orophin had laid out Haldir’s night tunic for him and left him all that was necessary if he returned home late. He glanced over and saw the usual tray of wine and the small seed cakes he favored and was suddenly hungry. Pulling the warmed tunic over his head, he sat down where he could look at the bed he shared with his brothers.

He smiled at the sight. As usual, Rúmil slept in a gathered and compact form, half turned on his side with his back to Orophin and taking up very little of the bed. Orophin’s long arms and legs were sprawled and tangled about and over his brother and twisted in every bedcover, his unbound silver blond hair covering the older elf’s shoulders as he pressed his face into Rúmil’s back. They called Orophin their spider and complained loudly to him about his sprawling sleep but, when he was not there, neither older brother could really sleep soundly. They would miss the spider.

Finishing his wine and the last of the cakes, Haldir rose and blew out the candle. In the moonlight through their window, he made his way over to the bed. With years of practice, he untangled Orophin’s unruly limbs and rescued the blankets from the floor, spreading them again over his sleeping brothers. Carefully, he moved the spider closer to the edge of the bed to make room for himself between those brothers. Orophin made soft murmuring sounds but did not waken.

Crawling between the sleeping forms with the skill of years of repetition, Haldir wrested some of the blanket anew from Orophin and slipped his legs beneath it. He bent over and kissed the sleeping spider and then turned to do the same with Rúmil.

Bright grey eyes were watching him, and Haldir touched his brother’s face in apology as he kissed him and then lay back against the pillows.

"I am sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep. It is very late."

"You did not really wake me. I drifted off, but I was waiting for you." Rúmil rolled to face Haldir. "Spider asleep?"

"Completely. He is making those elfling sounds. At times, it is hard to believe he is a seasoned warrior and better than I at archery."

Rúmil smiled. Orophin was a deadly warrior, but it was hard to believe that if you slept with him. "I pity any elleth with whom he might bond! She will never sleep again. Do you think he will ever find someone? He would be a good father, not like me."

"Eldarion would argue with your not being a good father I suspect, or should I not say things like that?" Haldir put his arm around his brother and pulled him close, until Rúmil’s head was resting in the hollow of his shoulder. To Haldir, this brother’s hair always smelled like new-cut hay. Orophin’s was like a garden of rosemary. Blinded, he could have told the difference between them.

"You? You can say anything to me, and you know it. I love Eldarion. He is the part of her that I can still show love. His father is Aragorn, however, not Rúmil."

"You could not love another, brother?"

"No, Haldi. I bound to her even though I foolishly placed no claim on her own heart. I did not wish her to be forsaken if I died, and she did not understand. I pay the price and now know its true pain when I am with Eldarion, but I could have done nothing else. Still, there can be no other. My heart will ever be bound. I should have liked to have a son. I would have named him for you, Haldi." The last was but a whisper, but Rúmil knew his brother still heard it. He wondered if his son that would never be born would have looked like him or Arwen and, within him, Rúmil felt his soul break a little more.

Haldir noted the use of the childhood name for him, a sign always that his brothers’ hearts lay fully open to him. In his own heart, he was still angry with Arwen. She had hurt his brother more than she could ever know and condemned him to a life of only his brothers’ love. Haldir’s muscles tensed with that anger, and Rúmil felt them. His older brother was ever his protector despite the centuries he himself had lived as a warrior. He put his arm around Haldir’s waist.

"Let it go, Haldi. Be at peace. I have forgiven her. You must do the same." Rúmil moved closer, but he controled the shiver that wanted to run through him. He did not wish for his brother to hate Arwen still. It served no purpose. "Were the warriors alright? Orophin said he heard three had been injured."

"They will be fine. It was very bad, and that kept me so late, but they will be fine. Thank the Valar! Do I still smell of blood?"

"Only a little." Rúmil’s nose wrinkled. "Mostly you smell like you in need of a bath."  He laughed as Haldir cuffed his head.

"In the morning I am going to soak for at least an hour! Maybe two. Come with me then?" Rúmil nodded and smiled. They would bring Spider with them. "Why were you waiting for me, Rúmil?"

Orophin grunted at this moment and began to burrow against his oldest brother. Haldir smiled as the long arm draped over his waist. Now, both brothers held him, and he was more content than almost he knew how to be. "If I ever slept alone, I expect I would have nightmares. How about you?"

"Many nightmares, Haldi. At least, I do not have to sleep in the middle!"

"I like this place. I can keep track of both of you night wanderers this way. Remember how Orophin used to sleepwalk out of the talan?" They both snorted at the memory that had terrified them at the time. They had never known where Spider would be found, and there had been exciting moments of discovering him in odd corners of Caras Galadhon. "Now, Rúmil, why did you wait for me?"

"Haldi, you will not like it."

"Tell me quickly then."

"Orophin and I were looking for you at the lunch hour."

"You saw me with that human?" Haldir was frowning, but he hoped Rúmil could not see. The soft moonlight betrayed him to his brother.

Rúmil nodded. "We did not mean to intrude, Haldir! It is just. . ."

"It is just that you never thought to see your brother kiss a human?"

Rúmil nodded in the moonlight. In fact, the sight had transfixed them almost with horror. Orophin had been the one with the sense to pull them against the barrack’s sheltering wall. "Do you love her, Haldi?"

"Do not be absurd! I love Nimloth and no other. Sulka is a human! And, she is married. As an elf, I could not possibly love her even if she were free. I felt pity at what she had just told me. I kissed her cheek. That was all."

"Gilúviel bound with a human. Haldi, you were never formally betrothed to Nimloth. It is not binding upon you."

"Do not speak nonsense, brother! Gilúviel was not bound in any way when he met Tingalen. Nimloth journeyed to our betrothal when she was killed. Besides, Tingalen is different. She is special. She makes Mîr whole. And, Tingalen is witty and educated. Sulka cannot even read."

"Could you not teach her as you teach Gurth? Sulka is very smart. She would learn quickly. And, she is brave, like you. I like her, my brother."

"Go to sleep, Rúmil. She is a human. You and Orophin are letting your minds run wild as always. I do not love humans. I do not even like humans. They are treacherous and weak, and they will betray you always in the end. I love you, brother, but let us sleep now. I am very weary." Haldir’s grey eyes suddenly resembled a storm sky just before lightning split it.

"Over two hundred years have you mourned, brother. I remember how many nights you wept silently when I pretended to sleep. Only Spider and I kept you from turning to the wall and dying from that grief. Nimloth would not wish that you were unhappy, Haldi. She loved you too much. She wanted your children to walk in this world."

Rúmil felt Haldir’s muscles tense again, and he knew to say no more. He buried his face against his brother’s tunic in wordless apology for his boldness and shut his eyes. He had said what he thought necessary, but Rúmil knew his words had been a knife opening an old wound.

In the darkness, Haldir lay holding Rúmil close until he heard the quiet breathing of his brother’s sleep. He wondered why he had not thought himself that Sulka might learn. He remembered her story of being given away at thirteen and shuddered. With a sigh, he pressed his face into his brother’s hair and made himself remember Nimloth until he fell asleep.

Chapter 12 - Sulka

"Get me something to eat, Sulka. I am starving, and you are sitting there like some lady of quality. You are home now, not with those accursed nobles and elves. I am your husband and demand my rights. Where is that boy and his sister?"

Sulka moved quickly to stir the fire under the stew she had been cooking. She did not wish Adros to dwell on the absence of his children.

"Queen Arwen said she required that they be there for the early morning. Some nonsense that she had planned for her own spoiled child that required their attendance. I did not wish to antagonize her and risk the wealth that our service brings to you, Adros. It is good that you have managed to secure lucrative employment for all of us. Have you thought more of that position that the steward’s man has offered you?"

Sulka knew that Adros had wished more than anything to leave the area of Aglarond where they had lived. She had needed to choose her words carefully to tempt him without raising his suspicions, but she had been successful. And, the steward’s man had been carefully chosen by Faramir and Aragorn. He was known to none as one of the most loyal subjects of the king. Instead, he had skillfully cultivated the reputation of a traitor, one who thought the new king a usurper of the steward’s rightful place. It served his king well when information was needed.

Adros had made many enemies in Aglarond and would be glad to avoid them. Sulka had known this and told Prince Legolas. Besides, she had also told him, Minas Tirith was a siren that called Adros. The prince had thanked her and taken her information to his father and King Elessar.

Careful tendrils of plans had crept towards Adros, and he never saw them. Dalthor had been released finally and met Adros one night at the tavern. Full of bitterness at losing his commission and new hatred of the elves, Adros had been able to foster acquaintance with Dalthor by the purchase of only a few ales and his sympathetic ear.

Adros now saw himself achieving a station here that would never be his in Aglarond. He blessed the day that Gurth and that elf had been injured. That fool son of his had finally done something right that day, and that he almost died was nothing to Adros. Gurth’s injuries had opened a path for his father, and Adros was determined to seize his one opportunity.

Too bad that foul elf survived his injuries. Like to see that one dead. Disgusting that week of thanksgiving and festival that the damn fool king has declared for next month. The king and queen of Rohan and Imrahil of Dol Amroth were bringing delegations! You would expect it from Imrahil. We all know the rumors about him. And, that fool of a steward Faramir and that elf colony he allows in Ithilien, but Gondor and Rohan? Thanksgiving that an elf did not die?  Better mourning.

Adros looked at Sulka and contemplated again her increased worth to him. That fool boy’s injuries had gotten her into the palace. She served Queen Arwen herself. "You speak with the queen in your work, Sulka?"

"I care for her son among other things. She cares much for Prince Eldarion and concerns herself with all that touches him. We speak. She is a great lady, but a mother as well."

"The child is a halfbreed. She thinks he will rule Gondor someday?" Adros laughed harshly as he took the ale his wife brought him and drained most of the glass. "No matter. The future will care for itself. It is the present that concerns me. You hear things, Sulka, in the palace? There is gossip among the servants?"

"There is always gossip, Adros. I ignore it." She knew his mind better than he did. This would draw him. This would make him ripe for their plans.

"No longer, Sulka. You will listen to gossip and tales, and you will bring them to me. I know you said that you did not wish to live at night in the palace, but you will do this. I need you there more than to warm my bed. There are plenty of whores for that. In my new position, I will be able to meet you, and you will tell me what you hear. Understand? If you do not, I will bring Gurth home and put him to work as he should be by now." She made appropriate protest to his words, just enough to keep him from suspicion. Adros grunted and ate the stew that she placed before him. King Elessar would now be able to feed Adros more than stew.

Sulka smiled within herself and watched him and wondered yet again how this could be the father of her beautiful daughter and Gurth. Adros had once been the son of a minor noble. He never let his wife forget this. The father had disowned his son for reasons Sulka had never been able to determine. Adros did not wish to talk about that. For no reason that she knew, she suddenly remembered Haldir and how he ate when they were together, as if listening to what she said was more important than the food.

"If you wish this, husband, I cannot refuse. I thought only of your comfort at being here. Queen Arwen will be pleased for she has many duties in the evening, and Prince Eldarion is often alone. I shall tell her of your generosity."

Adros grunted again. She still has a brain or two, this one. It will not hurt to have the queen consider me as generous with my wife’s time. Well, may as well make use of her this night in bed. Whores are expensive. Adros wiped his mouth on his sleeve and started to reach for his wife. As he did so, a loud knocking began on the door.

"Open, for the queen’s messenger!" With a curse, Adros went to the door and opened it. Sulka hid her smile as she saw Arngrein and Ohtar standing together with impassive faces.

Arngrein’s eyes smiled at her as he began to speak, "The queen has urgent need of you at the palace, Mistress Sulka. Prince Eldarion is ill, and she must attend to visiting dignitaries herself. She would not leave him alone and bid us bring you at once. She tenders her apologies, but the need is great."

"Of course, I shall come at once if the queen needs me. Husband, pray excuse me while I get my cloak."

Ohtar neither spoke nor made any sign of noticing Sulka as she gathered her things. Instead, he came and stood before Adros and watched him closely as a cat might watch a mouse destined to be its next meal. Sulka smiled again within her as she saw her husband grow fearful under the elf’s silent watching. She had never before realized just how large and frightening Ohtar could seem if he wished to do so.

  *****

Sulka took the package with almost a feeling of fear. She had never had a present before in her life. It was too beautiful to be for her. She looked at the flat box wrapped in silk of the softest blue she had ever seen and tied with velvet ribbons of a grey color that almost matched Haldir’s eyes. She blushed at that thought and pushed it hastily away. Her finger touched the small yellow blossoms tucked beneath the bow. Elanor. She could smell their sweet fragrance and remembered how she had seen Haldir helping Sam, Legolas and his own brothers plant massed beds of it in the gardens. Rosie had told her that it grew in Haldir’s home in Lórien and was very special to the elves there. Her Sam, she had said, had never forgotten seeing it grow there, and they had named their child after the flower.

"Why would you give me a present?" She looked up at Haldir and was surprised to see an almost anxious look on his face.

"Arwen said that this day is your birthday. She says it is a custom of humans to mark this date rather than the begetting day we celebrate. Is this not true? I meant no offense, Sulka. I know little of humans."

Again, she thought she heard an anxious note in his voice. That was not like Haldir. "On this, I know almost as little as you, Haldir. I know it is done, but never for me. I have never had a present before."

"If I had known that, I would have chosen something better. This is not fair enough to be a first present." He found his throat had tightened at the idea of his being her first gift. Or, perhaps it was the way her dark hair looked in the sunlight. Haldir had thought this would be easier than it was proving. She had a way of looking at him that made his thoughts become unsettled. He told himself again that it was just a present from one friend to another, nothing significant. Still, it was her first.

"Did you wrap this yourself?"

"Yes, I am not so good at it as Orophin, but I. . ." He could not admit to her that he did not want his brother to be aware that he was giving a human a present and to ask for his help as he usually did with wrapping. That would be something Orophin would not understand. Haldir had found the silk and ribbons and wrapped the present himself. He had found it more difficult than fighting an orc and, listening to him, Eldarion had learned several words in Sindarin that he should not really know. The elanor Haldir had added as he entered Arwen’s garden this morning to look for Sulka.

"It is too beautiful to unwrap. May I keep it so?"

He shook his head and the silver hair moved forward from his back. "A present must be opened. I think it is a law somewhere."

She laughed. It was the first time Haldir had ever heard her laugh, and he found he liked the sound of it, deep and throaty and warm. "Well, I would not like to be a lawbreaker, but I am keeping the wrappings forever. It is my first present, after all!"

Gently, her fingers extracted the flowers and, on an impulse, she wove them into her braid. Haldir found his throat tightened again at the sight of the yellow elanor against the dark braided coronet that topped her head. He fixed his concentration on her fingers as they delicately untied the bow and folded the ribbon. Then, she took the silk from his present and looked down at the three slender books in her hands. Her face burned red at the sight, and she wanted to run away, but she felt him watching her and looked up instead.

Grey eyes as serious as any she had seen looked at her and risked all. Haldir spoke softly, "They are books of children’s stories. I thought perhaps you would like to learn to read them. I could teach you. No one else need know."

Her eyes were filled with tears as she looked at him, and he was sure he had offended her deeply. "I am sorry, Sulka. I truly meant no offense." His voice was heavy and lifeless. He had been wrong to do this. He knew too little about humans. It was clumsy.

"I am not offended, Haldir." She looked up at him, and there was something like awe in her face. "You offer me knowledge and say it is not good enough for my first present? Haldir, all my life I have longed to know what was in the books and the parchments and even the signs that I saw. You would teach me? What language?"

He laughed at the eagerness of her voice. "Common to start with. It will be most useful to you. Then, Sindarin if you wish. That is my language. It is very beautiful and there are many poets who write in it. I think you would like their words. My brother Rúmil is named after one of my favorites. Naneth let me choose his name, and I fear he has never forgiven me for it."

She laughed again. "Naneth means?"

"Mother in your tongue. Adar and Naneth. Father and Mother. I am Muindor or Gwanur. Brother."

" Two words for brother?"

"One means simply "brother" and the other "brother of my heart".

"Brother of their hearts. That is you with those young ones of yours. It is a beautiful language. When I know my own, I would gladly learn it. Haldir, I would not appear ignorant before my son."

"Nay, you shall study privately, and I will tell no one if you do not wish it, not even my brothers. I waken early, and I think this is true of you." He suddenly realized that he should not know that she wakened early. "I see you sometimes from our window as you walk in Arwen’s garden. The earliest morning is a quiet time that I like."

"I also find my own time then. Shall we meet in the garden tomorrow at daybreak? I could bring my wonderful books, and no one could see or hear how little I know. For a time at least, I would wish that, Haldir. I am an old married woman, and some would think it beyond me to learn to read. Perhaps it is. Perhaps I will fail miserably, and you will grow impatient and regret your offer?"

"I will regret only that you have been so long denied words in your life. I will give them to you, Sulka. They wait for you. They will take you beyond any ugly place where you are imprisoned and put you in Valinor. Words have power mightier than any sword or arrow. They can slay evil and bring tyrants low, and they can heal and bind hearts together. You shall have words. I will be in the garden tomorrow at daybreak. Now, I must go to my duties. "

He bent his tall body suddenly and kissed her. Chastely. A kiss on the forehead. The kiss of a friend. She did not know that within him a deep hunger grew and was fought into submission once more. Haldir did not like humans he told himself yet again as he walked swiftly towards the barrack.

*****

"It is cold in that bed with no brothers to warm it." Orophin came and stood behind his brother at the window. "What are you watching so early, Rúmil?"

"Haldir." Rúmil nodded towards the garden below. Leaning against him, Orophin saw his oldest brother sitting with the mother of Gurth as he thought of Sulka. She was holding a book, and Haldir was laughing as he pointed at a page. The brothers could hear the laugh echo in the still morning air. Orophin dimly remembered hearing joyous laughter like that when he was a very small child, and he had toddled after his brother while he walked through the gardens of Lórien with Nimloth. The laughter had died so many years ago. It had died with Nimloth.

Orophin rested his hands on Rúmil’s shoulders and watched the one they both loved so much below them.

"That is Gurth’s mother with him."

"Very good, Spider! You are an observent elf after all." Orophin punched his brother’s arm and pushed him over to make room for himself at the window. The two brothers watched the third in silence for a few moments.

"This is where he goes in the mornings, Rúmil?"

"All this week. He is teaching her to read. We are not supposed to know about this, Orophin. Remember that."

"What is wrong with teaching someone to read? Why should he want to hide it from us? It is praiseworthy."

"Orophin, some days I wonder if you are truly my brother. Look at his face!"

"He seems happy. That is good."

"Yes, and I plan that he is going to stay that way as long as possible. Knowing that we knew would make him very unhappy. I expect you to hold your tongue, little brother."

"You are up to something, Rúmil. I know you."

"You do. I am up to something. Do I have your promise of silence?" Orophin looked at his brother’s crooked grin and nodded. It was no good arguing with Rúmil once his mind was set on its course.

Orophin looked down at Haldir and hoped for the best. Rúmil’s plans were always good if they did not first almost get the two of them killed by Haldir.

The "noble" experiment has ended. Two stories have proven too confusing for readers who joined us late in our journey. From this update forward, the story will continue solely at The Roses of Ilúvatar.

Sequence of Chapters:

1. The Garden of the Queen (Roses)

2. Of Elves and Dwarves (Jewels)

3. The Midnight Watches (Roses)

4. The Larks of the Morning (Jewels)

5. The Second Breakfast of the Elves (Roses)

6. The Lion of Lorien (Roses)

7. Elessar the King (Jewels)

8. Ithilien Rides (Roses)

9. Arwen the Queen (Jewels)

10. The Bonds of Friendship (Roses)

11. Courage Found (Jewels)

12. Shire Interlude (Roses)

13. The Shadow Rider (Jewels)

14. Old Bartleman’s Inn (Jewels)

15. Gimli’s Aerie (Roses)

16. Interlude before Dawn (Jewels)

17. Thranduil (Roses)

From the chapter "Thranduil", we continue forth only at the story "The Roses of Ilúvatar".  Sorry for any lingering confusion!

Please see "Author's Notes - Continuance " above  on the sequence of prior chapters between "Roses of Ilúvatar" and the "Jewels of his Existence". Again, I apologize that it got confusing for latecomers. Eventually, I hope to truly incorporate both these stories into one.

N.B.: "Roses" = "The Roses of Ilúvatar"

"Jewels" = "The Jewels of his Existence"