14.  Fathers and Sons

(April)

The storm whirled around him.  Wind tore through the trees, making them moan in sympathetic fear.  His heart pounding, Legolas glanced down from the branch on which he stood, trying to see if the wolf was still after him.  Unexpectedly, the wolf leapt down from a branch above him and knocked him to the ground, pinning him beneath its weight.  He struggled to get free, to push the wolf off him, but the animal strained toward him, teeth bared, snapping at his throat.  Then a knife flashed, and instead of the yellow eyes of the wolf, he saw the hooded eyes of his father.  Blood spouted everywhere, washing over his body and flooding his mouth so that he choked when he tried to scream.

"Legolas!" called his father's voice.  Someone grabbed his arm and shook him, and he rolled frantically away grabbing for his dagger.  He would not allow himself to be beaten again. Just as he grasped the dagger, a hand seized his wrist.

"Legolas!" Thanduil called, more firmly this time.  "Wake up.  You are dreaming."

His eyes snapped into focus, and, as in his dream, he saw his father bending over him.  He gasped and tried to slip out of the grip on his wrist, but Thranduil frowned and shook him lightly again.  "It was a dream," Thranduil repeated.  "You are safe.  No one will harm you here."

Reality suddenly came back to him.  He was home, in his own chamber, in his own bed.  Relief flooding his system, he sagged back against the pillows and then flinched and rolled onto his side as the welts on his back made themselves felt.  Thranduil released his wrist, took the dagger from his hand, and carefully placed it out of his reach on the far side of the table next to the bed.  Then he drew up a chair next to the bed and sat down, studying Legolas's face.

Under that gaze, Legolas looked away, remembering the feral gleam that had been in Thranduil's eyes when he slit Karik's throat. Legolas did not regret the Man's death, but in the Easterlings' camp, he had seen a side of his father that he had not known before, and he did not yet know what to make of it.  His father had killed Karik because the Man had harmed him and threatened Eilian. In doing so, Thranduil had been utterly single-minded; justice and vengeance had been one for him.  Legolas did not question the rightness of his father's actions, for Eilian would now be dead if Thranduil had not killed Karik.  He was simply overwhelmed by the power and strength of the fury that his father had shown. 

"Is your thigh paining you?" Thranduil asked.  Legolas shook his head.  Without even allowing him to see Ithilden's baby, Thranduil had sent him to bed and fetched Alfirin's mother to look at all of his various injuries as soon as they had reached the palace on the previous evening.  She had confirmed Legolas's conclusion that the arrow wound to his thigh was not serious and was already well on its way to healing.  She had deemed the cuts that the spur had made in his wrists to be minor as well.

"Your back, then?" Thranduil persisted.  Legolas shook his head again, although, in truth, the welts on his back bothered him out of proportion to the injury they represented.  The experience of being assaulted in a manner that felt so intimate had shocked him even beyond the considerable pain it had caused. And in a way that he could not explain, he was ashamed of the marks on his back in a way he was not of the wound in his thigh.

Thranduil sat quietly for a moment, studying him.  "Do you wish to tell me about your dream?" he invited softly.  Legolas shuddered slightly and lowered his eyes to the silken coverlet.  How could he tell his father that, in his dream, Thranduil's ferocity had frightened him?

Thranduil sighed and sat back in the chair.  "I was proud of you today, iôn-nín," he said.  "You were in a dangerous situation and you kept your head and escaped, saving the child at the same time.  Warriors are supposed to protect the helpless, but it is not often they are called on to do it so directly that they put their bodies between a child and a whip."  Legolas cringed slightly, and from the corner of his eye, he could see his father regarding him closely.  "You bore the beating well," Thranduil went on, emphasizing every word.  "Karik tried to humiliate you and break your courage, but he could not do it.  Those marks on your back show just how strong you are, for they show what it took to defy him and defeat him."

There was a moment's silence.  How was it, Legolas wondered, that his father always knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling even when he tried his best to conceal it?  He knew that his father had been trying to lessen his uneasiness over the beating, and he found that, against all expectations, Thranduil had succeeded in doing so.  He still had no intention of letting anyone outside his family see the marks if he could help it, but he found that he was suddenly less unhappy at the thought of Thranduil or his brothers seeing them.

As if recognizing that it was time to leave a difficult subject, Thranduil smiled slightly and said, "Nitha was most unhappy about being sent home without having a chance to say goodbye to you."

Relieved that the topic of conversation had shifted away from him, Legolas could not help smiling in return.  "She will forget all about me when she sees her ada," he said.  "I gather that he dotes on her."

"Before she left, she announced that she was coming back to take care of you," Thranduil told him.

Legolas laughed.  "I do not think I need to worry," he said.  "She will be lucky if her parents let her play outside again before she marries."

"I suspect that is so," Thranduil said placidly. "Some parents become overprotective if their children have been threatened."  Legolas blinked and wondered if his father could possibly be speaking without any self-consciousness. Thranduil had already made it clear that Legolas would not be allowed to return to the novice fields tomorrow or the next day either.  Legolas could easily accept the one-day absence.  He felt sore enough to be grateful for the break and tomorrow would be his nephew's naming day in any case, but he was already planning to ask one of his brothers to intercede if Thranduil tried to keep him home beyond two days.  He would go stir crazy if he had to stay inactive for too long.

"Adar," he said tentatively, and then hesitated.  Thranduil raised one eyebrow inquiringly, and Legolas took his courage in hand and asked what he wanted to know.  "How did you feel when you killed Karik?"

Thranduil blinked.  "Why do you ask?" he responded slowly.

Legolas faced him squarely. "Because you looked like you enjoyed it," he said.  Thranduil's face closed down and became inscrutable.  "I am not saying that you were wrong," Legolas went on hurriedly. "And I do not regret shooting the Man who was coming after Eilian with a sword.  But I did not enjoy shooting him either.  He was a Man, not an Orc."

"Karik was going to kill Eilian," Thranduil responded after a moment's silence.  "And he had already hurt you and would have done you more harm than you can even guess at."  He looked away.  Legolas was suddenly aware of the brevity of his forty-two years and of his father's millennia. "Men are not Orcs, Legolas," Thranduil went on, "but they can be evil, and this one was touched by Shadow.  If he had succeeded in taking you, he would have made your life a torment to you."  He looked back and met his son's eyes. "At bottom, he had threatened harm to my children, whom I love more than life itself, and, yes, I took great satisfaction in killing him."

Legolas suddenly found himself blinking back tears.  Thranduil rose, sat on the edge of the bed, and carefully, so as not to hurt the bruised and torn back, he took his son in his arms.

***

Ithilden ushered his father and brothers into the sleeping chamber where Alfirin lay propped up against pillows with the baby in her arms.  Thranduil advanced immediately to kiss Alfirin's forehead.  He had been in to see both her and the baby briefly on the previous night, but she had been too tired even to respond when she was spoken to.  Neither Eilian nor Legolas had seen their nephew yet. "Well done, my daughter," Thranduil said.  Then his eyes went to his grandson.

Alfirin smiled at her father-in-law, striking Ithilden to the heart with her beauty.  She had recovered amazingly quickly from the labor and would have risen to greet their visitors had not he and her mother both forbidden it.  "Would you like to hold him?" she offered, very generously Ithilden thought, for she had barely let their son out of her reach since he had made his belated appearance.  Thranduil took the baby carefully from her and settled into the chair next to the bed, his attention focused wholly on the elfling in his arms.

Ithilden drew near them, his eyes too on the little one.  He lay wrapped in one of the soft, multicolored blankets that Alfirin had woven for him, with only his face and one impossibly tiny hand showing.  His face was solemn as he slept, his lips working slightly, as if he dreamed of his mother.  Eyes that looked dark beneath their half-lowered lids flitted as he walked the paths of baby Elven dreams that Ithilden could only wonder at.  He reached out a finger to tentatively stroke the back of the miniature hand, and his son stirred slightly in response.

A knock sounded at the door.  I should answer it, Ithilden thought, but he did not move.  He could hear Eilian smothering a laugh.  "Do not disturb yourself, Ada," he said cheerfully.  "I will answer the door." He left to return immediately with Alfirin's parents and Tonduil.  Like Thranduil, her parents advanced and kissed their daughter and then immediately turned to focus on the baby.

Ithilden could hear Tonduil greeting Legolas and then tentatively asking, "How are you?"  Even in his current bemused state, that question struck him as odd.  Tonduil seemed to be suggesting that something was wrong with his little brother.  He glanced at the two of them in time to see Legolas shrug, his face impassive.  He would have to return to his responsibilities in the outside world soon, he thought with regret.  His father and brothers had all been absent last night when his son had finally been born.  Something had been going on, and although they had not told him last night, he was afraid he was going to have to insist that they do so today.

But not now.  Now he had something to do, for his and Alfirin's families had gathered to hear him announce his son's name.  He held out his arms and, reluctantly, Thranduil surrendered the elfling to him.   Then he turned so that everyone present could see the baby.  "Dear ones," he began formally, recalling suddenly that the last time he had heard these words, it had been Thranduil speaking them about Legolas, "Alfirin and I present to you the child who has been given into our keeping.  We ask your help and counsel in loving, guiding, and protecting him, and we pledge to use all of our own strength and wisdom to be adar and naneth to him."  He smiled at them, suddenly moved to joy. "His name is Sinnarn," he said, "for his life will be a new story to be woven with all the others in the song of Arda."

A murmur of approval swept through the room and then Alfirin's father moved forward to claim his turn at holding Sinnarn, and Ithilden found himself standing next to Thranduil on the edge of the little group. Ithilden smiled at his father wryly. "Will I ever feel normal again, Adar?" he asked in mock dismay.  "I can barely stand to let him out of my grasp."

Thranduil smiled back.  "I believe that that is what will count as normal from now on," he answered dryly.  He seemed to hesitate.  "I have something I need to discuss you, Ithilden," he said.  "And perhaps now is as good a time for us to talk as any, while Alfirin's parents are here to stay with her and would, perhaps, wish to have some private time with her."

"Very well," Ithilden said reluctantly.  Thranduil spoke politely to Alfirin's parents and then, signaling to Eilian and Legolas that they, too, were wanted, he led the way to his office where he waved them all into chairs.

"As commander of troops, Ithilden, you need to know what happened yesterday," Thranduil said without preamble and then launched into an account of events, with Eilian and Legolas filling in details when their father asked them to do so.  At first, Ithilden had to force himself to listen, for his mind was back in his own chambers with his wife and child, but as the import of their tale began to make itself apparent, he snapped to attention.

"I should have been told immediately," he asserted, dismayed at what had happened without his knowledge.

Thranduil shook his head.  "You could not have left Alfirin and did not need the additional worry," he said, and recognizing the truth, Ithilden turned to more practical questions of the future.

"I think we have to assume that the Easterlings are going to present a continuing danger," he said, feeling worried.

"This particular group of Easterlings will not trouble us again," said Eilian in satisfaction.  "They must have taken months to lay plans that are now in ruins. You are going to have to add warriors to the Border Patrol, though," he added.  "These Men penetrated our borders entirely too easily."

"Yes, you are right of course," Ithilden said, running his hand over his hair which was loose for once, for he had not had time to braid it.  He was thinking of Alfirin and the baby again.  His wife still needed what strength he could provide and it would be a few days before he was able to return to his work full time.  "Will you take care of that for me please?" he asked Eilian, suddenly very glad indeed that his brother was here and not in the south.

Eilian looked surprised at being asked but he nodded. "I will have to take the warriors from somewhere else," he said tentatively.

"Make some plans and then talk to me about it," Ithilden told him.

Thranduil rose, drawing his sons, too, to their feet. "We should return to our guests," he said.

Eilian laughed. "You mean return to your grandson."

Thranduil smiled placidly. "So I do," he agreed, and they began to move out of the room.

Ithilden was next to Legolas as they neared the door, and it occurred to him that his younger brother had been very quiet, giving only the information that their father had instructed him to give and volunteering nothing.  He rested his hand lightly on Legolas's shoulder and felt him tense slightly. "You did well," he said.  "Lómilad will be extremely pleased to hear how well you kept your head."

Legolas relaxed under his touch and looked at him gratefully.

"Also," Eilian called back over his shoulder, "he will be happy because he won the wagering pool over the hour of the baby's birth.  He said he remembered you as a novice, Ithilden, and was sure that the baby would be stubborn and slow in doing as he should."

Legolas laughed along with the rest of them and seemed a bit more lighthearted as they returned to the room where a slightly cranky Sinnarn was waking up and demanding to be returned to his nana.

***

Legolas hung onto his temper with a great deal of difficulty.  "I am not sure you should go this morning," his father was saying, frowning slightly.  "You are still not fully recovered."  They were standing in the hallway of the family's quarters two mornings after Sinnarn's naming day. Legolas had put on a heavier tunic for the first time since he had come home, although he had carefully donned a silk undertunic first, and he had been on his way out the door to the novice training fields when Thranduil had stopped him.

"I am well enough, Adar," he said as evenly as he could, "and I cannot stand to sit quietly for another day."

"Come on, brat," called Eilian, who happened to be passing.  "You will be late."  He seized Legolas's arm and propelled him out the door.  "We will see you tonight, Adar," he called back over his shoulder.  "Give Sinnarn a kiss for me."

Legolas waited until they were over the bridge in front of the palace before he said, "Thank you.  I was afraid that even if he let me go he would walk me to the training fields."

Eilian laughed.  "I still cannot believe he took you along when he went into battle.  That must have about killed him."

Legolas grimaced. "He is making up for it now," he declared in disgust.  He looked around at the fine spring day and suddenly felt how good it was to be alive. "Eilian," he ventured, as they neared the training fields, "had you ever seen Adar like that before?"

"Like he was with Karik?" Eilian clarified.  Legolas nodded. "Yes," said Eilian, "he was like that when naneth died, and he led the war party that went after the Orcs who killed her."  He smiled slightly at Legolas.  "No one touches those whom the Woodland King loves, brat.  And I think you are included."

They had neared the point where the novices gathered.   "It looks like Annael is waiting for you," Eilian said. "Make him pay you if he wants to see your scars."  And Eilian waved cheerfully and went whistling down the path, leaving a smiling Legolas trotting happily off to meet his friend.

"Welcome back," said Annael simply, and Legolas was deeply grateful for this friend who would listen to whatever Legolas wanted to tell him but would never pry where he was not wanted. They walked the last little distance to the novice fields where most of the others were already assembled.

Nálas appeared to be waiting for them, and Legolas was glad to see him. He had not had a chance to talk to the older novice since the two of them had parted at the ravine.

"How are you?" Legolas asked. "I hear you were struck on the head."

Nálas grimaced. "I am fine," he said, rather shortly. Then he grinned at Legolas. "Do you not get tired of being asked how you are?" he inquired.

Legolas laughed. "I certainly do," he agreed. "I am sorry. I should have known better."

Tynd approached and grinned at him.  "I suppose that is the last time that either of you will want to serve under me," he teased, and they all laughed and then formed into a ragged line as the novice masters came out of their hut and started toward the group.

Lómilad scanned the line and spoke briskly.  "There is one change in today's schedule," he told them. "The youngest group will trade with the oldest one and work with Penntalion in the archery fields today, while the oldest group practices unarmed combat."  Legolas blinked uncertainly, half suspecting that the change was being made on his account but then deciding that that was too self-centered a conclusion.  At any rate, he was grateful not to be wrestling under Maldor's supervision with his back in its current condition, and he moved promptly enough toward the archery field when Lómilad sent them to their appointed tasks.

The day passed quickly, as it almost always did for Legolas when he was shooting a bow.  He felt the upsurge of confidence that always swept through him when he could settle into this activity that he enjoyed and did so well.  As the spring afternoon was drawing to a close, Penntalion called a halt to their activities.  "That is all for today.  You three may go," he said indicating Annael, Galelas, and Isendir.  "Legolas, Lómilad wants to speak with you in his office."

Legolas frowned but did as he had been told and soon found himself knocking on the door of the novice master's office.  He had not been here since the morning after Galelas had tricked Lómilad into thinking that Falad wanted to become a warrior. He searched his conscience to see if he had done something wrong, but he could think of nothing.  "Come in," called Lómilad, and Legolas entered to find that Maldor was there too.  "Sit down," said Lómilad in a kindly tone, and Legolas nervously took the chair indicated, careful to sit far enough forward that his back did not touch the chair.

"Legolas," Lómilad began, "we asked you to come here because we thought you might want a chance to talk about what happened during the training exercise."  The novice master paused, as if giving Legolas a chance to say something, but he could think of nothing to say.  "We were the two masters who were with your group, so we know the kinds of plans you made and the care you took," Lómilad went on.  "We know that you were not careless. We have already talked to Tynd about this and told him the same thing."

"Thank you," said Legolas in some surprise. It had not occurred to him before that Tynd might have believed himself responsible for Legolas's capture, but now that Lómilad mentioned it, he could see how the older novice might feel that way.

Maldor cleared his throat. "We also wanted to tell you," he said, "that judging from what Ithilden has told us, we believe you did very well when you were in the hands of the Easterling.  You are a credit to the training."

Legolas stared at him, uncertain what to say beyond a second weak, "Thank you."

"Is there anything you want to ask about or tell us?" Lómilad asked, looking a bit exasperated at Maldor's rather stiff manner.

Legolas hesitated.  "I fell into a trap," he said, looking from one of them to the other. "I saw the child and the wolf, and I just acted.  Is there some way I could have known better?  Is there some way you can teach that?"

Lómilad nodded.  "We will be doing some training on that, I think," he said.  "It is part of strategy, and you all need to know it."  He eyed Legolas. "Also," he said, "we have planned to spend some time working on how to handle yourself if you are captured.  You did very well, Legolas, but the experience has probably taught you that it would help to know what to expect."

"I think that is a good idea," Legolas agreed.  "I would like it."

"Have you anything else you want to talk about?" Lómilad asked him.

Legolas shook his head. "No," he said, "I appreciate your offer but I have talked to my adar and brothers."

Lómilad nodded.  "Very well," he said. "You may go."  He and Maldor sat in silence as Legolas left the room.

"His back still pains him," Maldor observed dispassionately, once Legolas had gone.  "He did not sit back.  Did you notice?"

Lómilad nodded.  "He does not complain, though, and he really did exceptionally well when he was being held."

Maldor nodded.  "I begin to think he will be an outstanding warrior and a captain of inestimable value to Ithilden," he replied.  The two of them looked at one another and smiled slightly.  There were days when their work was very rewarding.