Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, Ithilien,

To Bandobras Took, my Beloved Esquire, Crickhollow

My Dear Bandobras,

I apologize deeply and profoundly to you, my dear Little One, for the dearth of missives that I have penned; so onerous has been my life hereabouts lately I have written no one, and save official documents you are the sole receptor of my letters now.

Gimli said he told you of our loss; your letter of sympathy to me was received but last night, and I thank you for it, as does Lord Círdan of Mithlond. He is here to see to the grave-sites, and to grieve himself for Laustairë and Nardanë; he also is weary with sorrow, as well as with his journey, for the sea is dark and foamy and rough and his passage did not go easy with him.

I feared to foregather with him, dreading his censure, but when he had eaten he came to me in my chambers, and we did speak at length concerning his charge Laustairë, and the difficulties we had experienced in our attempts to find common ground. He sighed then, and said to me, "I ought rather to have sent Kalamiril – she is better – was better, rather – with Laustairë than Nardanë, who was quick-tempered and unsympathetic to one of my charge's youth and temperament.  Yet Kalamiril was content to stay behind, being the less adventurous of the two of them.  It is a pity for I am sure Kalamiril would have defied me and not forced the betrothal as Nardanë did in her eagerness to fulfill my orders, seeing how unsuited you were for each other."

"I am sorry," I said, for his face was suffused with regret; "I meant no harm to either of them but in truth I could not persuade my heart to tender emotion when I felt it not." 

"Peace, son of Thranduil!" he said then gently, taking my chin in his hand and fixing me with a keen eye.  "The blame for this lies not upon your head, but rather upon mine and your noble parents'.  You cannot be held culpable for this." 

"But my guilt is here still," I insisted; "in the same fashion as I may not constrain my heart to love when it loves not, neither may I convince it to give up its feelings of culpability for their deaths.  They were after all in my care." 

"What could you have done, then, my child?" he asked, smiling faintly.  "Laid hands upon them and with violence forced them to return?  Be at peace, young Prince; none in Mithlond hold you responsible for this."  I attempted to smile but his words though comforting lay but upon the surface of my heart and did not pierce it; he did look upon me and upon my own sorrow and after a keen observation did say unto me that "sorrow is deep yet fleeting; with morning comes consolation," and giving me a kiss upon my brow quit me to his rooms.  I am soothed somewhat, for he is a great Lord of Elves and I esteem him highly; thoughts of his disapprobation were abhorrent to me and I am relieved to have received his blessing.

This does not however remove from me my feelings of culpability for these occurrences; had I been the wise and foresighted Master you believe me to be this should never have happened.  O why have I done what have I done, my dear Little One?  Why did my desire for peace and fatherhood so cloud my vision?  O that you were here to soothe me, my Bandobras; O that it were Spring and you were by my side.  Alas for the house of Oropher!  I fear it fails with my passage.

My Lady Mother has sent to me a message; she and sundry others of my Lord Father's court sail down the Anduin upon ice-breaker barges to Dol Galenehtar to spend the remainder of the Winter and the next Spring and Summer.  At first I feared she should find some other maid to foist upon me, but in her letter she wrote:  "I have failed you, my son; I have given that unto you which you did not desire, so taking from you that which you desperately needed.  Forgive me and your Lord Father both for our interference; we shall not do so again."  So if nothing else of value has come out of this disaster at least my Lady Mother is well convinced her son shall not be wed.

I suppose I ought to tell you of the funeral and the lords and ladies who attended, but in truth I have not the heart to do so; still the memory of these past weeks grates upon me like rough metal chafing an open wound.  Perhaps someone else may tell you of it for I cannot.

I am so tired, O Bandobras, so weary and filled with torpor; at times it is all I can do to rise me up from my couch to attend to court duties, and when I am seated upon my throne every bone in my body sags and supports not my weight.  I hear plaints and make judgments as I have ever done but there is no joy in it – all seems gray to me, Little One, gray and clouded as the skies above us that cease not to pelt snow upon our heads; almost it seems to me the snow lies about me and upon me and smothers me, muffling sound and obscuring vision and numbing sense.  It would be so satisfying to simply curl myself into a ball and allow it to overwhelm me, hiding me from my subjects and friends and duties so that I need never open my eyes again.  After all I take no pleasure in things nowadays; food tastes like straw so that I want to spit it out; wine like vinegar; music grates upon mine ears and laughter is an affront to me – it should be a relief to forego this mockery any longer and close mine eyes to the circling heavens.  I do not wish to be reminded of my immortality – it is an injury to me, this doom; it is abhorrent for me to think that season shall follow season, year follow year and age follow age, yet I shall remain the same, and this ache within me will ever eat at me and make my life a misery.  Lord Círdan may speak all he likes of sorrow passing with time, but what of regret?  It is eternal even as I am, and that thought brings me no comfort.

Kaimelas has just come in to tell me the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen are here with their children, and the little ones are clamoring for their "Lord Lassah."  I ought to rise myself and see them, though I would rather stay here in my chambers where I am alone and it is quiet; it is an effort for me to keep my composure when others are about, and I do not want to alarm my friends.  At least Kaimelas no longer attempts to dress me in such ostentatious finery any longer – in fact I am not certain where that wardrobe has gone; I know it no longer resides in my dressing room, to my relief; I may wear all the dull colors and plain fabrics I like.

I apologize for the tenor of this letter – I shall try to be more cheerful in the future.

How I miss you!

Your Loving Master,

Legolas