11. Love

 (March)

Legolas hurried toward home through the early spring twilight.  Today was the equinox, and that meant that there would be feasting in his father's Great Hall with singing and dancing to follow.  Indeed, Elves would already be gathering there.  Legolas was looking forward to the evening, he thought.  He would have to dress formally and sit with his family during the meal, but afterwards, he would be free to sit with his friends and dance with Miriwen.  He had not seen her in two, no three, weeks, and he had missed her.  Tonight they would catch up with one another's lives, he promised himself happily.

Suddenly a figure emerged from the shadows near the path, and Legolas instinctively reached for the sword on his belt, but then, almost immediately, recognized the figure as Falad.  What did he want? Legolas wondered, with instant hostility, and then stopped to wait for Falad to speak.

Falad stood silently for a moment, as if hesitant to begin.  "Good evening," he said awkwardly.

"Good evening," Legolas responded impatiently.  "I am late and need to get home, Falad.  Is there something you wanted?"

Falad drew a deep breath. "Why have you not come to see Miriwen?" he finally blurted out.

Legolas frowned.  "What business is that of yours?" he demanded irritably.

"It is my business because Miriwen is unhappy," Falad responded sharply.  "I know that she does not like me in the way that I want her to," he went on with stiff resolve, "but she does like you.  And I have decided that what is most important to me is that she should be happy.  So I want to know why you have neglected her.  You are so lucky to have her, and you have no right to treat her as you have been doing."

Legolas spoke as if addressing a slow-witted child. "I have not been to see her because she has had to spend many evenings training.  Surely you noticed that she was standing next to you in the infirmary?"

Falad snorted.  "We have spent one evening in the infirmary in the last month.  You cannot use that as an excuse."

Legolas stared at him, feeling as if all the breath had been knocked out of him.  "One?" he asked.

"Yes, one," Falad retorted.  "She sits home alone, presumably waiting for you.  If you have decided that you do not want to see her anymore, the least you could do would be to tell her.  What you are doing is neither kind nor honest."

Legolas stood in silence; indeed he did not think he could have answered, even if he had been able to think of a coherent answer to make.  "I will speak to her," he finally managed to choke out.  Falad nodded with his mouth grimly set, and then, without another word, he turned and disappeared down the path.

Legolas felt rooted to the spot.  Only with great effort was he able to pick up his heavy feet and begin to move toward home.  He took a few slow steps and then unexpectedly began to run.  By the time he reached the Great Hall, he was breathing heavily.  He knew that he should wait, should bathe and change and regain his composure before he entered the Hall, but he could not make himself do it.  He burst through the doors and then stood for a moment with his heart beating wildly while he searched the room.

The Hall was already crowded with Elves in elegant dress exchanging greetings and sipping from cups of Thranduil's excellent wine.  He could see his father talking to one of his advisors near the high table that had been set up at the far of the room. Ithilden and Alfirin were already seated at the table, for with the baby's birth only a month away, Alfirin was finding it increasingly difficult to stand for long periods of time.  He saw Thranduil turn, catch sight of him, and frown, probably because he was still dressed in the clothes he had worn for training that day, but just then he spotted Miriwen and her family seating themselves at one of the long tables that ran down the side of the room.  With only a second's hesitation, he strode toward them.

"Miriwen," he said, his voice sounding strained even to himself, "may I speak to you?"

She looked up, her face pale, evidently reading some truth from his face and his voice.  For a moment, he thought she was going to make some excuse, but then her mother prodded her.  "You need to talk to Legolas, Miriwen," she said. "Then if you do not want to stay for the feast, you do not have to."  Miriwen bit her lip and then stood and moved with Legolas to one edge of the room where they were unlikely to be much noticed.

He was too intent on learning what he wanted to know to be subtle, so he simply blurted out the questions that had burned in his throat since he had left Falad.  "Have you been avoiding me, Miri?" he asked. "Have you been telling me that you were working when you were not?"

She looked as if she were going to cry.  "I am so sorry," she breathed.  "I tried to tell you but I just could not."

"Tried to tell me what?" he demanded.  "Tell me now."

"You have been very special to me," she began, but he would not let her finish.

"Have been?" he demanded. "Meaning that I no longer am."  His voice was beginning to grow bitter.  "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong," she said, and now a tear did slide down one cheek.

"Then," he said slowly, "there is someone else, but not Falad."

"There is no one who has feelings for me," she managed to get out with misery in every syllable, "but there is someone whom I have feelings for."

"Who?" he demanded.

"I will not tell you," she declared.  At that moment, Legolas heard Eilian's cheerful laugh coming from somewhere behind him.  Miriwen's eyes involuntarily flickered toward the source of the sound, and the naked longing on her face sent unwelcome knowledge flaring suddenly into being.

"Eilian?" he cried, and she shrank away from his ferocity.  A red haze settled over his vision, and he whirled and started toward his brother.  Miriwen caught fruitlessly at this sleeve and would have come after him, but her mother appeared suddenly and caught at her daughter's shoulders.

"Let him be, child," Legolas could hear her saying soothingly.  "You cannot help him. You can only make things worse."

Eilian was just parting from a friend and starting toward the high table.  He frowned at Legolas.  "You had better go and get dressed, brat," he started, and then stopped, apparently taken aback by the look on Legolas's face.

"What did you do to Miriwen?" Legolas hissed at him.

"What do you mean?" asked Eilian cautiously.

"Did you flirt with her?  Did you let her think that you could be serious about any maiden?" Legolas spat, not caring whether his words wounded his brother or not.  From the corner of his eye, he could see curious faces beginning to turn toward them.

Eilian flushed.  "Of course I did not flirt with her," he murmured, keeping his voice low and his face as impassive as he could, given the color that had flooded it.

"Were you breathing?" Legolas demanded as insolently as possible.  "Then you were flirting."

"Do not be ridiculous," Eilian protested, his voice emphatic but still low. "I would never do such a thing to you.  Besides, she is a child. What do you take me for?"

Blood roared in Legolas's ears.  He and Miriwen were the same age, and he definitely did not feel childlike at the moment.  He took a step toward his brother and suddenly felt a strong hand grip his upper arm.  "Cease this unseemly behavior at once," snapped Thranduil in a voice pitched to reach only his squabbling sons.  "Remember where you are."

They both turned to look at him.  His face would have seemed expressionless to most observers, but Legolas could see the anger blazing in his eyes.  Airing family problems in public was forbidden.  He knew that, but he was so angry that he did not care.  "Adar," he began, but Thranduil interrupted.

"Not now," he said through clenched teeth.   "Go to your chamber and stay there until I am through here and come to talk to you."

Legolas was outraged.  "And what about Eilian?" he demanded.  "Does he just go ahead and spend the evening feasting and dancing with Miri?"

Thranduil blinked at him and then glanced at Eilian, who shook his head slightly.  "I swear not," he said.

Thranduil turned back to him.  "Do as I tell you, Legolas," he said, more gently.  "We will talk about this later."  He released Legolas's arm and stood waiting to be obeyed.  With a final inchoate cry, Legolas whirled and stormed from the room, ignoring the inquisitive looks his progress drew.  Outside the Great Hall, he paused.  His fury at Eilian had now been extended to his father as well.  If Thranduil cared more about the family's public image than he did about Legolas's feelings, then his father was as bad as his brother.  He did not think he could bear being in the presence of either one of them, and the idea of going docilely to his chamber made him ill.  He needed time away, he decided. He needed the woods.  And instead of going toward the royal family's private quarters, he turned in the other direction and left the palace.

***

Eilian knocked again on Legolas's door.  "Come on, Legolas," he coaxed through the door. "Let me in."  When there was still no answer, he put his hand on the latch and opened the door anyway.  A quick glance around the room told him why his brother had not answered the knock: He was not in the room.  Eilian felt a twinge of apprehension and moved to look through the open door of the bathing chamber.  Legolas was not here.

He stood in the middle of the room and tried to decide what to do.  He had been unable to enjoy the feast, thinking about his unhappy younger brother alone in his room.  He knew that Thranduil would not be able to leave the Great Hall, but he had been struck by a memory from his own youth, of an evening when Thranduil had banished him to his room for some reason and his mother had left a feast to come and talk to him.  She had listened to his troubles and then hugged him. She had also stayed in the room and interceded when Thranduil finally arrived.  He smiled wistfully.  Lorellin had always known how to help him sort out the emotional confusion that had been his daily lot when he was Legolas's age.  She would never have left the brat by himself for the whole evening when he was so obviously in pain.

He wondered if he should tell Thranduil that Legolas was not here.  He did not think that his little brother would go far, probably only to the stables or more likely the woods.  The latter thought gave him pause, but he himself had seen to it that the Home Guard was scouring the nearby areas of the woods thoroughly.  He concluded that Legolas was probably not in immediate danger and decided to wait until after the feast.  His father was not going to be happy that his son had disobeyed him after staging a scene in the Great Hall.

What a fool Legolas was not to have just done what Thranduil told him to do, he thought.  It had been evident to Eilian that Thranduil felt enough sympathy for whatever pain Legolas was in that his anger over the public scene would have soon blown over. But Eilian was close enough to Legolas in age to remember how hard it was to always do the sensible thing.  Indeed, he still had trouble doing it sometimes, he thought wryly. He would hold his tongue.  Perhaps Legolas would turn up again before the feast was over.

***

Siondel opened the cottage door to find Legolas on the step.  "I am sorry to call so late," he said apologetically.  "But may I talk to Annael?"  His voice was strained and his face set in lines of distress.  Siondel hesitated but then responded like the father he was.

"Of course," he said. "Come in."  Legolas edged into the little hallway, and Siondel returned to the sitting room where he and his family had gone when they returned from the feast.  Annael had just been gathering up his cloak and gloves to go to his own chamber.  "Legolas is here," Siondel told him.  Annael raised his eyebrows and then went out into the hall.

Siondel could hear Legolas murmuring something and then Annael making a low answer. "I cannot," cried Legolas.

Annael appeared in the sitting room doorway.  "May Legolas spend the night?" he asked.

Siondel looked past his son to where Legolas lingered in the darkened hall. "Do they know where you are at the palace, Legolas?" he asked in a neutral voice.  There was obviously trouble here, and Siondel had no intention of contributing to it or being caught in it.

Legolas hesitated. "I will send a note," he said carefully.

Siondel nodded.  "Very well," he said.  "I can take it for you. I have to go and check on the guards in about half an hour anyway."   The two friends withdrew to Annael's chamber, and Annael soon returned with the note.  Siondel pulled his cloak around him, preparatory to going to the palace and then paused in the hallway.  From Annael's room, he could hear Legolas's agitated voice and Annael's sympathetic tones, although he could not hear what they were saying and did not really want to eavesdrop.  He shook his head. Thranduil's youngest son was distressed about something, and while he would allow the youth to stay the night, he would send him home tomorrow.  The king was unlikely to welcome outsiders interfering in his family's affairs.

***

"What do you mean he is not in his chamber?" Thranduil demanded.

Eilian flinched at his father's tone.  He had approached the king as he left the feast, having checked on Legolas's empty room several times during the evening.  Legolas was still not back from wherever he had gone. They were now in his father's office, and Thranduil was looking incredulous at what Eilian was telling him.  "The guards say he went out when he left the Great Hall," Eilian responded.

Thranduil stared at him, color beginning to rise from his neck into his face. "Where?" he demanded.

"He did not leave word," Eilian said, unhappily.

A servant tapped on the door and entered carrying a note, which he offered to the king.  Thranduil scanned it quickly, and relief flitted momentarily across his face before anger returned.  He looked up to stop the servant who was quietly withdrawing.  "Who brought this note?" he demanded sharply.

"I will find out," said the servant and hurried from the room.

Thranduil looked at Eilian.  "The impudent elfling sends me less than a score of words.  He does not, however, tell me where he is."  He thrust the note at Eilian and then began to pace the room.

Eilian read: "Adar, I am all right. You do not have to bother worrying about me.  Legolas."  Even in the face of Thranduil's fury, Eilian could not help admiring Legolas's audacity.  Nothing placating for him!  Just a statement that he was fine, a rude assertion that Thranduil should not worry, and the suggestion that such worrying would be a bother to him.  No wonder his father was spitting fire.

The servant returned, eyeing Thranduil cautiously. "My lord," he said, "the guards say that Siondel brought the note." Thranduil waved at him imperiously, and he fled from the room.  "He must be at Annael's," Thranduil said.  "Go and get him."

Eilian grimaced. "I may not be the best person to send after him," he said.  "He is quite angry at me. And anyway, are you sure you want the furor that would cause?  He is safe enough with Siondel, and he will almost certainly come home tomorrow, even if you just leave him."

Thranduil frowned and then sat down in the chair behind his desk and waved Eilian into the one in front of it.  "You are right," he said, with an obvious effort at control.  He looked at Eilian.  "What is this about?" he asked.  "I gather it has something to do with Miriwen."

"She has evidently broken if off with him," said Eilian unhappily, "and he seems to think that I had something to do with it."

"Did you?" asked Thranduil.

Eilian sighed.  "Not deliberately," he said, running his hands over his face, "but it is possible that she misunderstood my behavior.  She is very young," he added, by way of defending himself.

Thranduil grimaced but said nothing.  After a pause, he said, "He has training tomorrow, I assume?"  Eilian nodded.  "Then he will probably borrow what he needs from Annael and come home in the evening.  Tell the guards to send him to me as soon as he shows up."

Eilian rose.  "Very well," he said and left the room, feeling intensely sorry for Legolas and intensely glad that he was no longer so terribly young.

***

Legolas lay awake on the pallet on the floor of Annael's room. The sound of even breathing from the bed told him that his friend was asleep.  Annael had listened patiently and responded sympathetically for as long as he could keep awake but had eventually slipped away into the path of elven dreams, leaving Legolas still awake and agitated.

He stared into the darkness and thought about Miriwen. He mourned the loss of someone to talk to about the intimate thoughts that he did not seem able to tell to Annael.  He knew that his family loved him, but they also constantly urged him to be better, more responsible, and more self-controlled, while Miriwen had seemed to accept him and value him as he was.  And in her, he had tentatively explored the mystery of femininity.  He thought of the taste of her mouth and skin, and the warmth and softness of her body pressed against his.  He groaned, turned over, and forced his mind onto other considerations.

His grievances rose before him.  How could Eilian have betrayed him so?  How could his father have been so indifferent to his wrong?  In anger, he found an easing of pain and toward dawn, he slipped into an uneasy doze from which he awoke when light first slipped in through the window.  In the brief time of sleep, his anger had faded, and now he found himself remembering Miriwen's admission that Eilian did not return her feelings for him.  Of course, he thought resentfully, the damage done between him and Miri was not made less by the fact that Eilian often flirted without meaning anything by it.  In his mind's eye, he saw Eilian flinch at Legolas's accusation that he was incapable of being serious about a maiden.  He felt a momentary pang of guilt that he tried but failed to push aside. It was possible, he had to admit, that Eilian had not sought Miriwen's affections.

Just how angry was his father? he wondered.  He briefly recalled the softening of Thranduil's tone in the Great Hall when he had realized why Legolas was upset, and then he imagined Thranduil's reaction to his absence overnight and to the message he had sent.  If his father had not been angry before the message came, he most certainly would have been afterwards.  Unfortunately, there was no going back and changing his actions now, he concluded despairingly.  He would have to struggle through this day and then go home and try to set things right again at least with his family even though Miri might now be permanently beyond his reach.  When Annael finally woke, Legolas borrowed clean clothes, politely refused the breakfast his friend's mother offered, and trudged off to the training fields.

Today, they were working with Penntalion, the archery master, which, for Legolas, would ordinarily have meant that the day would be a good one.   They were practicing shooting while running through cover, so they had to think about both seeking good cover and the difficult task of drawing and aiming accurately while on the move.  Legolas found himself going through the drill in a fog of misery and came to the end not knowing even how well he had done, for his mind had been either on the loss of Miriwen or on his tense relationships with his father and brother.

Penntalion called the little group back to him.  "Remember," he admonished, "you are going to have to set yourself momentarily, but you want that moment to be as brief as possible. You are all still taking too long.  We will do it again."  He scanned them. "Legolas," he said, "I wish to speak to you.  You others go and retrieve the arrows."

Legolas kept his eyes on the ground as Annael, Isendir, and Galelas trotted off to find the spent arrows.  Penntalion waited until they were out of earshot.  Then he asked, "Is something wrong, Legolas?"

Legolas shook his head.  "No, nothing is wrong," he asserted without raising his eyes.

"I ask," said Penntalion patiently, "because that is the worst performance I have ever seen you give on the training fields."

Legolas could feel the color rising to his face. "I will do better this time," he promised.  He raised his eyes to meet Penntalion's bright, quizzical gaze.  "I will do better," he repeated more firmly.  Penntalion looked at him for a moment longer and then nodded and turned to the approaching others and began to set up the drill again.  Ashamed of his inattention, Legolas forced himself to concentrate and found that, with effort, he could put his troubles out of his mind and do his work well enough.  His performance for the rest of the day was far from the best he had ever given, but at least it was good enough to draw no further inquiry from the archery master.  Moreover, concentrating on his work actually made him feel a little better.  He would make it through this day with grace, he resolved, and through whatever the evening brought too.

***

Ithilden leaned against the tree and watched Penntalion demonstrating something to do with shooting while moving to the youngest group of novices.  They all appeared to be listening attentively, including Legolas, who was fingering his own bow, in imitation of the archery master.

Ithilden had found that he looked at Legolas differently, now that his own son was about to be born.  He was considerably older than either of his two brothers, who were only sixty years apart.  The large age gap had inevitably meant that he had sometimes felt parental toward both of them, especially when they were elflings. He had gradually come to accept Eilian as an adult, but he still felt intensely protective of Legolas, and he knew that Alfirin felt the same way about Tonduil.  Now that their son was soon to be born, they both looked at their younger brothers and wondered if their child would be like one of his young uncles.

Ithilden suspected that Alfirin was hoping their son would be more like the gentle, straightforward Tonduil, who was, for the most part, happy, now that he had found work he enjoyed and was good at. But Ithilden thought that the child was more likely to resemble the sometimes difficult Legolas, for memories of his own youth told him that Legolas's occasionally unpredictable behavior stemmed from inexperience combined with the pressured position in which he lived, a position that his own son would share.  He had not told Alfirin, but he would be more than happy to have a son like his youngest brother, for he was proud of Legolas, not only for his growing skill as a warrior, but also for his idealism, his curious mind, and the loyalty he extended to his friends and evoked from them in turn.  He remembered his dream of the son who looked like Eilian and smiled wryly to himself.  Now there would be an interesting fate for him and Alfirin, he thought in some dismay.

Movement on the training field caught his eye and drew him from his reverie.  Penntalion had dismissed the novices, and Legolas and Annael had started toward him.  Ithilden could tell the exact moment when Legolas spotted him because he stopped and frowned, causing Annael to stop too.  Ithilden suppressed a smile.  It was not entirely unheard of for him to watch the novices (the training of future warriors was, after all, part of his responsibility), but it was not common either, and Legolas probably suspected that Ithilden's presence today was not accidental.  Legolas and Annael conferred briefly, and then Annael trotted off in a different direction while Legolas approached.  Ithilden straightened up and stepped onto the path by his youngest brother's side.

Legolas shot him an irritated glance. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I am walking home with you," Ithilden replied.

"Did Adar send you?  I can get from the training fields to the palace by myself," said Legolas in some disgust.

"One might think you could get from the Great Hall to your chamber by yourself too," Ithilden replied rather waspishly.

Legolas flinched slightly.  After a moment, he asked, "Is Adar angry?"

"Not so angry as he was last night," Ithilden said grimly.  He had no intention of being drawn into whatever was going on between Legolas, Eilian, and their father, but if Legolas had been his son, he thought he would want to be sure that he regretted his behavior.  Legolas knew better than to air family differences in public, to defy his father's bidding, or to write the insolent note that Eilian had quoted to Ithilden this morning as they walked toward the practice fields.  His youngest brother had let personal hurt lead him into doing what he knew he should not, and Thranduil was unlikely to ignore that.  Ithilden wondered if he would be like his own father in dealing with his children.  Over the years, he had gradually come to think that that would not be a bad thing.

At the door of the family's private quarters, the guard told Legolas that Thranduil wished to see him in his office, and Ithilden waited until Legolas had knocked and been admitted to their father's presence before he went on to his and Alfirin's quarters.

He went through their sitting room into their sleeping chamber and found his wife seated at her dressing table clad only in a thin shift.  She was apparently getting ready for dinner, and her hair was loose from its normal braid, descending in wavy profusion down her back to her hips.  She turned toward him, her right arm still raised with her hairbrush in hand.

"You are home early," she said, with a pleased smile.

He advanced toward her, took the brush from her hand, and began to brush her hair.  "Adar asked me to walk home with Legolas after he was through with training for the day," he told her, marveling at the soft mass of dark hair into which the brush and his fingers sunk.

She made a face at him in the dressing table mirror.  "Poor Legolas," she said.  "I would not be that age again for anything."

He said nothing, concentrating on the pleasant task in which he was engaged.   How lucky he was, he thought.  He had believed that he was contented with his life, that his work gave him purpose and his father and brothers satisfied his need for love.  Then he had fallen in love with Alfirin and together they had made the baby.  His life now was immeasurably much richer than he would ever have believed possible.  What had he ever done to earn this? he wondered. Surely he did not deserve it, which meant that it was a pure gift. He stopped brushing, placed his trembling hands on the sides of her head, and bent toward her.  "You are so incredibly beautiful," he murmured into her fragrant hair.

She turned to bury her face in his tunic. "I am the size of an oliphaunt," she said.

"You are exquisite," he insisted. "You are perfect."  He was not sure what kind of father he would be, he thought, but one thing he was certain of:  His son would know beyond doubt that Ada loved Nana.

***

Legolas entered his father's office, closed the door carefully behind him, and walked to stand before Thranduil's desk, where his father looked up from the petitions he had been reading.   The king regarded him coolly for a moment.

"Would you like to explain why you left the palace last night?" he finally asked in deceptively pleasant voice.  Legolas grimaced.  The fact that his father kept him standing told him all he needed to know about his attitude toward Legolas's absence, no matter what tone he used to ask his question.

"I was upset and wanted to be in the forest," Legolas answered truthfully, knowing exactly what his father's reaction would be.

"I told you to go to your chamber," Thranduil replied sharply.  "Moreover, you and I agreed that when you went out at night, you would tell me where you were going, although in this case," he added, "that should not have been necessary since you should not have been out at all."

"I sent a message that I was safe," Legolas said defensively.

"That was not our agreement," Thranduil snapped.

Legolas bit his lip and was silent for a moment.  "I am sorry," he said finally.  "I was angry," he hesitated and then went on in a rush, "and I was hurt.  I was not thinking about anything beyond how I felt."

"That is not acceptable, Legolas," Thranduil insisted flatly.

Legolas dropped his eyes under Thranduil's angry gaze.  His father was not going to let this go, he thought unhappily.

There was a moment's silence and then Thranduil spoke again.  "I have sent the new horse to spend two weeks in the forest pastures," he said, naming the area where the king's horses were sometimes kept when they were injured or not needed.

Legolas's eyes immediately came up in dismay.  In his head, he heard again his father's words as he gave him the horse: "I am proud not only of your skills but also of your growing sense of responsibility, and I wanted to show it."  Thranduil could not have picked a more fitting or painful punishment, he thought forlornly.  He said nothing, but his appearance must have spoken for him. As he looked into his father's face, he saw it gradually soften.

"Sit down, Legolas," Thranduil sighed.  Numb with misery, Legolas settled into the chair in front of his father's desk.  "Tell me about what is wrong between you and Miriwen and Eilian," Thranduil invited with surprising gentleness.

Legolas hesitated for only a moment before the sting of being disciplined gave way to a desire for the comfort and love that his father now seemed to be offering.  How much should he tell? he wondered. How much would his father understand?  "She has broken with me because she is smitten with Eilian," he said bitterly. "I do not think he even deliberately tried to attract her, and she prefers him to me anyway.  I am sorry about quarreling with him in public last night," he added as an afterthought, "but, Adar, I cannot help but wish that it had been anyone but Eilian."  To his horror, he felt tears threatening, and he blinked furiously.

Thranduil rose to his feet immediately, causing Legolas too to rise, and came around the desk to embrace his son. Legolas stood stiffly for a moment and then gave in and allowed himself to be comforted.  Then Thranduil stepped back with his hands on Legolas's shoulders.

"I know that life is difficult for you right now," Thranduil said gently.  "Like your friends, you are trying to find your place as an adult, but unlike them, your actions are under more or less constant scrutiny.  Moreover, you have two older brothers to whom people compare you and to whom, perhaps, you compare yourself. They are experienced, self-assured, and accomplished and they are also your superior officers."  He smiled at Legolas wryly.  "I imagine that Annael has his share of problems," Thranduil said, "but I doubt that he would wish to change places with you."  Legolas smiled back at him rather shakily.  "I wish that I knew how to make this time easier for you," the king went on, "but I do not.  All I can do is promise you two things: the pain you feel now will ease, and you will grow into an adult I am proud of."

He drew his son close and Legolas desperately hoped that Thranduil was right and that his misery might eventually fade, although he could not yet imagine when that might happen.

Thranduil broke the embrace. "I am afraid there is one more thing, iôn-nín," he said.  Legolas looked at him apprehensively. "When Eilian comes home, I am going to send him to you.  I do not want to see either one of you again until you have sorted things out between you."

Legolas nodded in relief.  "I want to do that anyway," he said.

"Good," responded Thranduil.  "Remember that your brother loves you.  Also, you might recall that Eilian was in your place not so many years ago.  He may understand things in a way that I do not."

Legolas nodded, and taking his leave, went to his chamber, feeling better than he had thought would be possible when he entered the palace a short time ago.

***

"Come in," said Legolas in response to the knock on his door, and Eilian entered the room, looking worried.  He did not hesitate for a second but crossed the room and pulled Legolas out of his chair and into a firm hug.

"I am so sorry," he said, and as easily as that, all of Legolas's resentment and anger slipped away. "I would never deliberately hurt you like that," Eilian went on, "but I cannot deny that she may have misunderstood my actions."  He looked into his younger brother's face.  "Can you forgive me?" he asked.

"There is nothing to forgive," Legolas answered steadily, knowing that it was true.  "And I am sorry for what I said to you last night."

Eilian grimaced. "Do not worry about it," he shook his head.  "Are you all right?" he inquired.

"I am not yet, but I will be," Legolas vowed.

"Yes, you will," Eilian assured him.  "You are young yet, although I expect you do not like to be told that.  Much of life is new to you, but experience will teach you how to survive in your heart as well as on the battlefield."

"Will it teach me not to care about her anymore?" Legolas asked rather desperately.

"Yes," Eilian said sadly, "it will."  And he hugged him again.