Chapter 51 – The Lost Ones

When Rhîwen knocked on Istion’s door, she was surprised to see Rhinure answer the door. “Mistress. I did not expect to find you here.”

“Where else would I be?” Rhinure answered as stiffly.

*~ Anywhere else. ~*

“How long do you expect to remain?”

“As long as I must.” Rhinure knew why Rhîwen was asking. She wanted to see Istion and did not want Rhinure to intrude. Istion was almost family and she was not. Even if Rhîwen did not say those words aloud, Rhinure heard them nonetheless. Morion’s choices had often hurt his family but his decision to raise Istion was not one of them. In her own way, Rhîwen had loved the little foundling who had lost everything, even his Blood Kin. He was alone, and deep in her secret heart, she knew how that felt.

Rhinure’s eyes narrowed in displeasure at she saw Rhîwen’s thoughts flit across her face. For the briefest of moments, her emotions were so naked that Rhinure felt ashamed that she had seen them. Ashamed, hurt and very angry. This was her Second Guard’s house, her guard who was hurt. It was her right to be here. She was as much Kin as Rhîwen was.

Rhinure shifted her stance into an unwelcoming one as she asked, “Do you have a reason to be here?”

Rhîwen straightened when those humiliating words hit her. Rhinure had the upper hand today and it seemed as if she was going to take advantage of it. “I wish to see Istion.”

“He is resting at the moment,” said Rhinure shortly, shifting slightly so that she blocked the door more completely.

“And when will he be able to take visitors?”

“Not any time soon but I will tell him you called.”

Rhîwen clutched her fists until her knuckles turned white. Sacrifice or not, Rhinure had no right to speak to her in such a manner. “I would like to see him myself, Mistress.”

Rhinure would have taken great pleasure in denying the request but Ehtewen did not give her the chance. Unbeknownst to Rhinure, she had heard the entire conversation and was not about to let it continue any further. Emotions were hidden for a reason – they hurt more that any blade could and ever would.

“And you will get the chance. Perhaps while Mistress Rhinure goes to visit Erutunín you will sit with Istion.”

Rhinure whirled around to reprimand Ehtewen’s presumption but the look the older elleth turned on her was enough to seal her mouth. The First Guard’s presence was a rude reminder of the Sacrifice’s position and duty in Avari life. Rhinure could not afford such petty indulgences – she was an example and living proof for the Avari way of life. If she did not maintain her honour, how would the Clan?

Rhinure stepped back from the door, letting Rhîwen enter. “Would you sit with Istion while I check on Erutunín?” The words scraped her throat but she managed to get them out somehow.

Rhîwen nodded and moved towards the chamber, a triumphant step to her walk. If she was given to smiling, Rhinure was sure it would have a malicious victory in it.

Ehtewen watched and waited until Rhîwen had almost reached Istion’s sleeping chamber. “Of course, you will leave when the Sacrifice returns.” It was not a question.

Rhîwen turned back, a question hovering on her lips.

“Istion is Mistress’ Guard. It is best he – and everyone – gets used to that as quickly as possible. He is going to be spending a lot of time with her.”

No one mistreated Rhinure, no matter how just the grievance, in front of Ehtewen. She was the First Guard and her only duty was to protect the Sacrifice, from anything and from anyone.

It should have been a comfort, Rhinure supposed but when she glanced back at Ehtewen as she gathered her cloak, all she felt was regret. It should not be like this.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Erutunín winced as Aldariel cleaned his shoulder wound with a little more pressure than was strictly necessary. “Zara aram se.”             (A little softer).

“Are you complaining, my husband, Captain of the Avari Guard, respected warrior? I would not have thought such little pain would have undone you.”

“If I did not know better, I would say that you are enjoying this. Am I wrong, biwi ji?”              (Wife – very polite)

“Are you ever wrong?” Aldariel’s tone was arch as she rinsed the blood soaked cloth in warm water kept near the bed. Erutunín was in no condition to move, he needed rest.

“Perhaps you should answer that question.”

“You are about as wrong now as you were when you decided to contest for the Second Guard’s Blade.”

“Then I am not wrong now at all.”

Aldariel did not say anything. She did not need to. As she took in the blood staining the bed sheets, the bandages strewn on the floor, the weariness in Erutunín’s eyes, and the weight that refused to leave her chest, the answer was very clear to her.

Erutunín stilled his wife’s hand, causing her to look up at him. “I was not wrong, mere jaan. I had to do this.”                (My life/love/dear)

“That, too, is a matter of differing opinion.”

“You are angry with me.”

“And if I am? Will you remind me that emotions are not meant to be inflicted on others? Will you remind me that the Avari way is to keep everything inside?” Aladriel’s eyes flashed as she struggled to remain clam, in control – as she had been taught. Only children lost control of their feelings.

Erutunín’s voice rose slightly as well, in response to the anger in his wives tone. One did not marry without becoming attuned to the unsaid. That was one of the benefits – and drawbacks of marriage. “And if I do? What would you say to me then?”

“I would say that what I feel is my affair. It is private. And you cannot stop me from feeling what I do.”

Erutunín’s hand lightly caressed Aladriel’s. “I never meant for you to hurt.”

“I know.”

“But …”

“But you had to do it,” Aladriel finished. He would not change. He would continue to believe that what he had done was the right thing. No matter that he had almost died. No matter that he had almost left his child – and her, alone. What he had done was for the Avari. How could she begrudge her people what was in her power to give?

*~ Easily. ~*

Aladriel bent over Erutunín, lightly kissing him, ending the argument – for now.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

When Aladriel opened the door, she was not pleased to see the Commander standing there. Though she could not be certain – Cothion’s face was too guarded to give anything away – Aladriel was certain this was not a courtesy call. Perhaps it was some instinct connected to her husband, but she was positive that a general had come to inspect his soldier. If a father could see his son at the same time then all the more better.

“Are you going to let me in, bahu?” Cothion asked, eyebrows raised at Aladriel’s guarded stance.         (Daughter-in-law)

“Of course, Commander.” Aladriel automatically moved aside and let Cothion in. Obedience had been too deeply ingrained in her to prevent this visit.

“How does Erutunín fare?”

 “His wounds still trouble him, but he will recover in a few days.”

“That is good to know. May I see him?”

Aladriel was very tempted to say no. Erutunín needed his rest and Cothion was sure to disturb it. However, the decision was taken out of her hands when Cothion turned and headed towards the bedchamber.

Aladriel hurried after Cothion, struggling to keep up with the taller elf. Her pregnancy did not help – the child was just too big for her to move quickly. Cothion noticed her predicament and slowed down, ostensibly to look at a pile of neatly stacked baby clothes. They smelt of soap and sunshine.

“And you, bahu? Are you well? How are you and the baby handling Erutunín’s injuries?”

“We are coping, though it can be difficult when he is not here. I have to take more of the responsibility for the child.”

“Erutunín is needed on the patrols.”

Aladriel stopped outside Erutunín’s room. Turning to her father-in-law, she said softly, making sure that Erutunín would be unable to hear, “I understand this – but he is needed here as well. Family before Kin.” Cothion did not answer; he just looked at Aladriel for a moment and then turned back. Typical behaviour, she thought. He would not let his son put her before the Avari. He would make sure that his son followed the same path as he always had.

As Cothion opened the door, he looked at his daughter-in-law again, taking in the swell of her stomach, her drawn face and dark circles under her eyes. She was suffering alongside Erutunín – their bond was too strong to spare her.

“I will talk to the First Advisor and Mistress Rhinure. Perhaps we can re-arrange Erutunín’s schedule so that he is home more often. At least, keep him in Tirnen until the baby is born.”

With that, he entered the room, leaving a stunned Aladriel watching his back.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Erutunín was not sleeping when his father entered the room. Any chance of rest had flown out of the proverbial window when Cothion had entered the house. The presence of his father alone would have been enough. The tie that bound son and father was strong despite all evidence to the contrary, despite what Aladriel believed and saw. 

Besides, even if that had not been enough, Aladriel’s displeasure would have been enough. The strength of that tie was as great and a little more obvious.

“You should not aggravate her so,” Erutunín said mildly, knowing what his father’s response would be but trying nevertheless.

“She should learn to control herself better.” Cothion did not fail his son.

“She is pregnant.”

“And that is a reason?”

Erutunín gestured for his father to come and sit by his bed, near him. “If one is not allowed to be a little imbalanced in such a time then when is one?”

Cothion answered sternly, “Never.”

Erutunín sighed. He would not make his father unbend. If his mother could not then he knew he had no chance. His father did not change, he did not falter. It could be uncomfortable at times, but that too was expected. And there was great security to be had in the predictable, in the well known – in his father.

“You will never change, will you Abbu?”           (Father – diminutive)

 “I believe not. Would you want me to?”

“I believe not. Did you think I did?” Erutunín shot back.

Cothion smiled slightly – this was his son. “Aladriel is not going to come in?”

“I do not think so. She probably gathered you wanted to speak to me alone.”

“And how would she have surmised that?”

“You have your Commander persona on.”

Cothion raised an eyebrow, “Is it so different from my other … persona?”

Erutunín lightly squeezed his father’s hand – so lightly that it was over before Cothion realised what Erutunín had done. “To me – yes.”

 “Are you feeling better?”

“You did not come to ask me that.”

“I did not but at the moment, this answer is more important to me.”

“I will survive.”

“I knew you would.”

Both elves fell silent, giving the other the privacy each needed. The silence was finally broken by Erutunín’s soft, unsure question, “Abbu, did you believe I could have won?” (Father)

“Yes – you just did not want it as much as Istion did.”

“Then I failed in my duty.”

“Your duty was to fight for the Clan,” Cothion’s voice was sharp. “Victory was not a condition. You did your best, did you not?”

“Yes.” Erutunín voice was small. It could have been from the fatigue so Cothion let it pass.

“Then you did enough.”

Erutunín settled down, his father’s conviction was enough. If Cothion said it was so, then it was so.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Cothion watched as Erutunín made himself comfortable, helping him prop the pillow so that he could look at his father more comfortably.

“What is it that you wished to talk to me about, Commander?”

 “I will be accompanying Mistress on her journey back to King Thranduil’s Realm.”

“May I ask how you managed that? Mistress has been most adamant in keeping us away from the Wood-elves.”

“And most rightly. But I am the Heir and the rules are different for me.”

“And is she aware that you are going to keep an eye on her?”

“One does not go to keep ‘an eye’ on the Sacrifice. You should know better.”

“Then why do you go?”

“One can keep an eye on Mistress’ husband.”

Erutunín frowned, “She will not appreciate your interference.”

“I do not interfere.”

“Commander, this is her Bonded you speak of. Their relationship is only their business. Your input, no matter how detached, will be interference.”

“I go only to see this Prince with my own eyes. I would know what kind of elf he is – and if he presents a danger for the Clan. That is my duty as the Commander of our forces. Anyone who presumes to tell me otherwise is interfering with my duty.”

“You have already seen him once.”

“Very perfunctorily. He did not impress me. Now I would make sure that my first judgement was correct.”

“It is not.”

Cothion folded his arms and carefully scrutinised the younger elf, “You are so sure. Why?”

“The Prince is a formidable elf. If you had seen him in battle then you would know that he is a warrior – no matter how soft he seems to us, he is pure Adamant. If we are not careful he will cut right through us.”

Cothion leant forward, keeping his tone neutral though his mind latched onto Erutunín’s words like a bloodhound. He trusted his son’s judgement, unpleasant though it might be. “You give him too much credit. He is weak.”

“He is different. That does not make him weak.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I saw him – really saw him. And I was afraid.”

“Afraid?”

Erutunín nodded, “I have never seen anything like him. Or his Wood-elves. We have fought alongside them before but we have not seen them clearly. They are as flexible as a soft reed, but as hardy. Bend them all you want, they will not break. When the wind changes, they will still be there – straight, proud, strong. I saw them fight, bleed, even die – and found that they could still laugh. I saw them weep, crumble under what they felt and then just pick themselves up and strive on. Nothing seems to stop them.”

Erutunín paused, “I do not understand them. I do not understand where this power comes from. And …”

“And that makes you afraid.”

“Does it not worry you?”

“Yes. It worries me. I worry for the Clan and for Mistress. I do not think she understands her Bonded anymore than we do.”

“Then how will she protect us from him?”

Cothion’s look was very eloquent and robbed Erutunín of any words he might have wanted to speak. He swallowed – the thought of the Sacrifice not being able to protect the Clan was terrifying. That is what she was there for. Without that, she did not have purpose. And without her, neither did they. To be without purpose – without function – the Clan might as well be dead.

“She will try.”

Both elves turned to see a white-faced Aladriel standing in the doorway. “Mistress will try – as much as she can and then a little more. That is all we can expect from her, from anyone.”

Cothion did not say anything, letting her continue. She came and sat next to Cothion, looking him straight in the eye. “Did you not say that victory was not a prerequisite? Did you not say that doing one’s best was enough?”

“Yes.”

“Then it will be enough for Mistress as well.”

Cothion smiled a bitter smile, “But as for the Heir, the rules are little different for the Sacrifice. She cannot fail in her duty. Defeat means deaths for the Clan. That is why she is the Sacrifice – her life before ours, her death before ours.”

“And you go to make sure that she does not fail in this duty,” Aladriel whispered.

“Yes.”

Erutunín looked at his father and his wife. Both faces were pale as each considered the words spoken. Neither wanted to see Mistress harmed but each knew that she played a delicate game – one with high stakes. One that the Avari had to win. “Abbu, I do not want Mistress to be harmed.”           (Father)

“Do you think I want that, beta? Do you think I value her life so little?” (Son)

Cothion got out of the chair and paced in the room, “I do not want to hurt her or make her forfeit herself for us. And it is for that reason and that reason alone that I am going to accompany her. To make sure that we have a choice – an alternative in which we do not have to give her up.”

“Do you not think that she knows what she is doing? That she knows her duty better than you – then all of us? That what she does is the only way it can be done? If you go you might take away any choice – good or bad – that she might have.”

Cothion looked at Aladriel, “Do you believe that?”

“Yes, she is Avari – she knows what must be done. Do not interfere and make things harder on her.”

“And you, my son? Do you think Mistress knows what she is doing?”

Erutunín thought about his father’s words. He thought about Prince Legolas and his concern for his elves and the Avari. He remembered the pain he felt being away from Aladriel. He remembered the orc and his screams. He remembered the fact that he gave up his duty for Aladriel. He remembered the gentleness on the Prince’s face when he spoke to the orc.

“I am not sure, Abbu,” Erutunín spoke slowly, considering his words before he said them. “If this was any other situation then I would say that Mistress Rhinure had the situation well under control. But this – this situation is unique. We speak of her Bonded. Navigating between her duty to him and us cannot be easy. It must be causing her more strain than we can imagine.

“If her Bonded were another Avari – I would still say that Mistress would eventually find a balance. She would find a way to make everything work. She always has before. But this elf she is married to is no Avari. He is Eldar – he is so different, so unfathomable. How can she make something work when she cannot hope to understand who she is dealing with?

“How can any of us?”

“I hope to answer that question when I see him myself. Mistress might understand him better than we do. After all, he is her Bonded.”

Erutunín nodded, “She might be the only chance we have.”

“I still believe so. She is our Sacrifice. But I must make sure as far as I can. Therefore, I need you to tell me as much as you can about this Prince Legolas.”

“There is not that much to tell. I did not meet with him for long. I only spoke to him privately for a few moments.”

“And you did not presume to tell me?”

The cold voice cut through all three elves. Startled they turned to see an extremely furious Rhinure standing in the open doorway. “The door was open. If you are going to have such conversations then you should at least make sure that you keep it closed.”

She walked into the room – her tread measured, but hostile nonetheless. “Now – continue.”

Erutunín flinched at the command. He had not often seen Rhinure in such a rage. But in the times that he had, he was forcibly reminded of why she had become Sacrifice. Why her will, when imposed, went unchallenged in the Clan. No elf would dare look into those cold eyes for long. They flayed you; stripped you of all defences until you were left as vulnerable as a newborn babe. And then they would pin you down until you had not choice but to surrender.

Rhinure was Sacrifice and they should not have forgotten what that meant. True, it was her duty to protect the Clan, to put herself in harm’s way for them. But to counter that lack of Self, was an iron will – a strength of purpose that made Sacrifices unique among the Avari. They protected the Clan and for that they would break any and all Avari who opposed them. Such elves were dangerous.

“Mistress, Erutunín was just making a report about the last patrol. That is all.”

“I did not ask you, Commander. You will remain silent or you will leave.”

 Cothion made to say something but a look from Rhinure silenced him.

The Sacrifice was the Avari’s first line of defence, their shelter against Fate. She was a weapon against all who would harm them. But she was a weapon nonetheless. And all weapons should be handled with care.

“Now, Captain. You will tell me why you did not mention this private conversation with Prince Legolas in the report you made to me.”

“I did not think it was worth mentioning. He did not say anything of import.”

“But it was significant enough to tell the Commander?”

 Erutunín swallowed, “I was just telling Abbu …”

“There is a difference between a casual conversation between father and son and between a Commander and soldier. Though I might not have had a father for long, even I know the difference, Captain. Try again.” Rhinure’s eyes narrowed in displeasure.

“Mistress …”

“If you lie to me again, Captain, I will have you hung from the tallest tree in the forest – unborn child or not.”

“The Commander wanted my impression of the Prince.”

Rhinure nodded before turning to Cothion, “And why did you not come to me, Commander? Would I not have been the most obvious person to ask?”

“Perhaps and perhaps not.”

“Would you like to elaborate on that, Commander?”

“Not at the moment, Mistress.” Cothion held his ground, even though he knew he was playing with fire. Fire that threatened to consume him at any moment. Going behind Mistress’ back was bad enough but to go behind her back about something dealing with her Bonded was pushing her to her limit. She could have his head for this if he was not careful.

Rhinure straightened her back – this was an attack on her authority. She would not tolerate that for long. But if it turned out to be an attack on Legolas then she would make them suffer for it. Her eyes told them as much.

Aladriel struggled to her feet, “Mistress – please. They … we did not mean any harm. The Commander, he was just curious about the Prince. As are all of us. We do not know anything about him but he is a part of our lives, whether we like it or not. Can we not be concerned and a little questioning?”

Rhinure looked at the pregnant elf and her gaze appreciably softened. She understood the Avari’s fear when it came to Legolas – she did not like it, but she understood it. “Curiosity has its place, but it should be stopped before it mingles with insubordination. Do I make myself clear, Captain?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Commander?”

Cothion gritted his teeth but nodded. Rhinure turned to him and her eyes chilled once more, “I will deal with you later. You may leave now.”

“As my Mistress commands.” Cothion brought his fist to his heart and left the room. He wondered exactly how much Rhinure had heard, and how much trouble he was in.

Rhinure turned back to Erutunín, “Next time, Captain, if you have any observations you want to make about Prince Legolas, any conversations that you find worthwhile reporting, you will report to me. Make no mistake; I will not let this slide so easily a second time.

“And Aladriel, if you – or anyone, has questions about the Prince – I suggest the best person to ask would be me. Not someone who only spoke to him privately for a few moments.”

Aladriel nodded and sank back onto the bed, very glad that a reprimand was all they were going to get.

“Now, Captain, do you have anything else you want to tell me?”

“No, Mistress. Except that the Prince gave me a letter to give to you.” Rhinure raised an eyebrow, as Aladriel went to fish it out of Erutunín’s drawers.

“Did you show it to the Commander?”

“No Mistress! He said it was private.”

“Did you tell the Commander about the letter?”

“No.”

“Because you did not think it was his concern or because you did not get the chance?”

Erutunín ducked his head, “Maybe both.”

“Maybe one.”

Erutunín looked up again and Rhinure decided to let the matter pass when Aladriel passed her the still sealed scroll. For the briefest of seconds, when her fingers curled over the paper, her face softened changing her face so much so that Erutunín was sure he had imagined the expression. He had never seen Rhinure look like that – so pliable, so feminine, - so weak.

But when she turned her face back to him, it was impassive again. He must have imagined it all – he was more tired then he realised. This entire episode with his father and Mistress had taken more from him than he had realised.

Rhinure, too, must have realised that Erutunín was tired. “I will leave you now, Captain. But see that such an incident is not repeated.”

Erutunín nodded and Aladriel showed Rhinure to the door – letter still tightly clutched in her hand.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure stood for a moment outside Erutunín’s house – crushing the paper in her fist. An overwhelming feeling of panic swept over her. Rhinure could not be sure it was caused by the snippet of conversation she had overheard or the live coal in her hand.

She had walked in a little too late to hear the entire conversation but she was reasonably sure what it had been about. Cothion had made it no secret that he did not trust the Wood-elves and especially not the Royal Family. It had been with great reluctance that he had entertained the idea of Rhinure marrying Legolas. She was still not sure if he had reconciled himself to it now that it had happened.

She had married an Eldar – elves who had abandoned the Avari. Elves who held the ties of Kin so lightly that the promise of an easier life alone was enough to sway them. What guarantee did they have now that they would not do the same? What assurance did the Avari have that the Wood-elves would help them against the Lost Ones? Might not they break the marriage ties between Prince and Princess as easily as they had broken Blood ties before?

Rhinure started towards her home, the thought of abandonment, of betrayal playing through her head. Would Legolas leave her too as his Kin had once done to hers? Would he too sail West leaving her behind?

She understood Cothion’s fears because they were hers as well. As she clutched the letter to her breast, she understood better than Cothion might expect. He thought that she had been blinded by the Sindar prince – unable to see that the threat still existed. The Avari were vulnerable until she found a more permanent solution. And how could she do that if she allowed Legolas to plague her?

She had to make sure that the Wood-elves were close enough so that they would aid if the Avari so needed, but not too close. Becoming that close to the Silvan elves would destroy the Clan as surely as the Lost Ones would. It would make them forget duty, their own traditions, their own history, their own pain. With lack of memory, all that had come before them, all that had been lost before them, all that had been sacrificed for them would be lost. And that price was too great, even for survival.

What was left was a balancing act held together by Rhinure. She had to be wife enough to ensure that Legolas would aid the Clan. She was the link that Life could not sever. As long as she lived so did the bond between Avari and Silvan.

And if she was not there?

Rhinure shook her head as she closed the door behind her. She would not think of this just right now. She had called a council meeting to discuss Tirnen’s move. She was certain Cothion would bring up today’s confrontation. And if he did not, then she would. It was time he was reminded of his position – he was Heir not Sacrifice. Until the Clan chose otherwise, the decision – and the guilt, was hers.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Sinking into the nearest chair, Rhinure looked down at the paper she was holding. She frowned as she saw her hands trembling slightly. Legolas had handled this paper. If Rhinure closed her eyes, she could almost imagine his scent rising from it. The thought alone made her tremble as if she were ill. This feeling he caused was destroying her – it left her weak, but like an addict, wanting more.

If Cothion could see her now he would not hesitate in getting rid of her. Anyone who got so emotional over a simple letter was pathetic.

Rhinure took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as befitted her station. She managed to stop shaking but no effort would remove the happy smile on her face. As she just looked at the hasty writing, taking in the way he formed his words, she was sure that this was not some artificial, composed letter that Legolas had been obliged to write. The writing was too hurried, too inelegant for it to be anything other than an impulse.

An impulse that was caused by her. Rhinure felt her throat tighten – Legolas had thought enough about her to write. That had to mean that she was not far from his thoughts – did it not?

Rhinure started to read –

Hervess nín,

She smiled at the greeting, the words sending a little thrill through her. His wife – she was his wife. And nothing could change that.

Hervess nín,

I do not know what words to pen. I had not expected such an opportunity but I suppose I should have. Your Avari were here when we needed them, as you had promised. For that I am grateful, as are my people. If you were here, they would tell you as much.

If you were here – if you were here, I would not have to struggle to find the correct words. I would take you in my arms and that would be enough. Would it not? It would for me.

Even as I write these words, I am acutely aware of their inadequacy. I wish now that I had time to write something that would make you smile – you look lovely when you smile. Or something that would make you blush – you look even better when you do that. But both will have to wait until you return. You have much to make up to me. All these nights I have spent alone because you were not here. All the times I have wanted to show you something, speak to you, or kiss you – I will take a full reckoning when you return.

I will ask you to return home soon. You are needed here, my Lady, my Princess, my wife. There really is not much more to say other than that. You are needed here, Rhinure. By my side.

Do you remember – before you left, I told you that you were mine? And you agreed. With that right that you gave me, I now ask you to come home. You have been away long enough. Come back.

 I know that your Avari need you and I am willing to share you with them, but only to a point, hervess nín. I think it is high time you paid some attention to your poor ignored husband, do you not? I am in desperate need of some interest as well. Preferably the kind only a wife can give.

Take the time you need, Rhinure but hurry back as you promised. I wait for you.

Forever yours,

Legolas

Rhinure did not realise she was crying until a fallen droplet smudged the ink. She raised her palm to her cheek to find it wet. She thought it very appropriate that it should be so. Legolas had not managed to make her blush or smile but he had managed to make her cry. He did not do what he had set out, but he made her feel something – how like the rest of their life together.

She read the letter again and then just once more to make sure she remembered the words. She sighed, feeling the words thrum  through her heart. How she longed to just give in and return. Agorion would return in a few days and, she was confident, with a suitable site for Tirnen. There really was no reason for her to stay. Her Avari was more than able to move Tirnen without her supervision.

She could leave for the Realm in a few days and be in Legolas’ arms in under a week.

For a cruelly short moment, she allowed herself to imagine that she could do as she longed to. She was certain that Legolas would be there to welcome her back. It was not home for her but it was becoming suspiciously close to it. Perhaps because he was there.

He would be there when she returned, at the Palace entrance. Maybe he would even take her in his arms as his father did, without consideration of station and situation. Maybe he would even kiss her then.

Rhinure smiled, picturing Cothion’s shock if Legolas did that.

Cothion – Commander, Heir, Avari – and one of the many reasons why she could not return just right now. He would be going with her, not for any altruistic reason as was confirmed today, but still he would be leaving as well. She could not deprive the Clan of both Sacrifice and Heir during the move. It would not be … Rhinure paused as she thought of the correct word. It would not be fair. Fair, just – all those indefinite but important concepts that were often impossible to achieve but necessary to strive for. Concepts, standards that Rhinure must adhere to.

She could not put her selfishness before her duty. She had things to oversee, to plan, decisions to make. She would have to stay away from her husband for a little longer.

But soon duty would let her be and she would go back to her husband. Rhinure gently stroked the paper.

*~ Soon, my Lord. Soon. ~*

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

A few hours later Rhinure sat completely dry eyed in the council chamber. Looking at her, no one, not even Ehtewen, would be able to tell that she had been crying. Or that she still carried the letter, folding into a small square, inside her armband. Which was just as well, as all three elves in the room watched her very closely.

The tension was thick in the air. This was the first time in Rhinure’s memory that Morion would not be there for her, silently supporting her and smoothing over any difficulties that arose. Since Istion was unable to attend, only the Heir, First Advisor and First Guard were present. This meant that, for the first time, Rhinure lacked a partisan who was completely and wholly committed to her. The elves in this room would die for the Clan, no questions asked. In her capacity as guardian, they would follow her, but only with question. They were known to exercise their prerogative to question the Sacrifice to the utmost extant.

Even Ehtewen, who in normal circumstances would remove any threats to Rhinure’s safety with dispassionate swiftness, in this chamber was a member of the Avari council. And as such, the Sacrifice had to explain herself to her – to them all.

Rhinure knew it was not going to be easy. This was the first time she had been home for an extended period after her marriage and there was much to discuss. The Lost Ones, the Wood-elves, Legolas, Rhinure herself.

Rhinure squared her shoulders and stared back at her council impassively. It was time to grow up. Morion was not there but Rhinure would make him proud. Wherever his feä was at this moment, she hoped he was watching over her in some form.

*~ For you Chachu. May you be as proud of me as I was always of you. ~*            (Uncle)

“I was under the impression that you had questions for me. If you do not than I will leave. I am not fond of wasting my time.”

Túrgwaith raised an eyebrow as Rhinure’s tone. As he leant back in his chair, he could not help think that this would be more interesting than he had originally thought. It seemed as if Cothion’s concerns about this Eldar changing Mistress were less germane than he had led them to believe. Rhinure seemed as Avari as before. If anything, she seemed a little more confident. Was it an act? If so, then it was time to find out.

“It is not that we do not have questions for you, Mistress. It is just that we are trying to find an appropriate place to start. I am afraid you will have to waste a little more time for us.”

“Possibly even a lot of time.”

Rhinure turned to Cothion, “Perhaps you should start, Commander, since you seem to have more questions than the others.”

Cothion bowed his head in acknowledgment, “I will start with the simplest question, if no one objects.” He looked around and when he was sure that no one was going to speak he continued, “Will you stay until Tirnen’s move is complete?”

Simple indeed.

“Yes.”

“Do you think that is a good idea, Mistress. Staying away from the Prince for that long might undermine what we have struggled to achieve.”

“The move will not take long, First Guard. Once, and only once, it is complete, I will return with all haste. A few more days will not make too much of a difference.”

Ehtewen crossed her arms and looked carefully at her young Mistress, “Do you not overestimate the strength of your bond with the Prince? Would it not be better for you to return before he gets impatient and starts looking elsewhere?”

“I do not think that will happen, First Guard.”

“Ever?” Túrgwaith interjected.

Rhinure glanced sharply at him before answering, “Ever.”

“The First Guard seems to have a point then, Mistress. You have known the Eldar for such a short time. Why would he not turn to someone else to warm his bed when you are not there?”

“The First Guard does the Prince disservice. He will not take another to his bed. It is not only a matter of our union - to do so would be against his own vows. Even for the Avari it is practically unheard of for married couples to seek bed-mates outside.”

“He is not Avari.”

“He in still Quendi.”

“The Mistress is correct, First Advisor. The Wood-elves may be different from us but they have their own honour. We must never forget that. Especially since what we have planned hinges on it. If the Wood-elves had no honour, then Mistress’ marriage would be pointless. Are we willing to admit that?”

First Advisor and First Guard looked at each other. Rhinure pursued her lip but did not add anything.

“I thought as much. Which leads us naturally to the second and more pertinent question. Exactly how much honour do the Wood-elves have?”

“And how do you define honour, Commander?”

“As the Avari define it, Mistress.”

“And you do not think that it would be expecting too much from the Eldar if we hold them to our standards?”

“These are the only standards we know, the only reference we have to measure them by.”

Rhinure placed her hands in her lap, looking at them so that she would not have to look at Cothion. He did have a point. The only way you could judge another was using your own experiences, your own values and codes. You made allowances for the other, but in the end, everything you saw was judged by your own eyes. Eyes that had their own prejudices, prejudices that often went unnoticed.  That was the true challenge in life – to recognise those prejudices. Rhinure wondered if the Avari managed to do that as clearly as she believed they did.

“The Wood-elves are honourable elves in their own way.”

“Agreed, but are they honourable in the Avari way?” When Rhinure did not make an answer, Cothion added, “I will make it even easier for you to answer – will the Wood-elves protect us from the Lost Ones if we need them to.”

“I think they will.”

“And why would they do that?”

“Why do you ask me the question, when you know the answer, Commander.”

“Humour me, Mistress. Knowing what you do about the Wood-elves, why do you think they will protect us?”

“Because we help them.”

“And what guarantee do we have that our aid will be enough? After all, what we ask of them is no small favour.”

Rhinure gritted her teeth, not wanting to give the answer Cothion wanted but having no choice. “My marriage to Legolas.” 

In the absence of understanding and faith in Thranduil’s commitment to a tribe which was not his, which had never been his, and would never be his, the Avari had accepted the only option that they comprehending – marriage. They were not Thranduil’s subjects so he was under no obligation to protect them. They were sporadic allies, which meant that Thranduil could refuse to fight the Lost Ones. After all, the Lost Ones were elves too. The wisest and the oldest of the thirteen Avari clans.

After the Great Journey, which had left the Avari weak and alone, evil continued to hound them even though the rest of Arda was at peace. Sauron and Morgoth’s other minion had not forgotten the elves and had taken great pleasure in herded them like the So had begun the long period of Avari captivity where every day was a curse and death a sweet release. Six Clans eventually gave up the fight and became what they hated – Orcs. It was only the oldest and the youngest that managed to hold out against him, to not give in, to hold on to their consciousness as elves – to not Fall. The old had held out because of their wisdom and strength, the young, Rhinure’s Clan – because they did not know how to admit defeat. They had survived when six of the other Clans had not.

And eventually, even without help with out hope they managed to escape – escape because they had each other and Kin came before everything else. But Fate was not done with them for reasons only she knew best. When Melkor returned to Arda in the First, cursed Age, he brought the end of freedom for the Avari as well. He was not about to let his playthings escape – no one escaped the Dark Lord.

This loss of what little they had was too much for the Avari. The older elves knew that their young – the youngest four clans – would not survive this time. With a grim certainty that no help would come for them, the oldest three clans decided to sacrifice themselves to help their children escape.

The fate of these four, oldest Clans was not known after Rhinure’s people escaped – thus the name, the Lost Ones. Rhinure’s people had searched for their elders, children lost without their parents. They had searched with a desperation that came from orphanage. They had searched until they had lost hope. By the time they had come to Mirkwood, the Avari believed the Lost Ones had died or worse, succumbed to the dark.

Imagine their surprise, and delight, when the end of the War of the Ring also brought news about the re-emergence of the Lost Ones. The Clan had been suspicious at first, the fall of Sauron did not mean that evil and the danger to the Avari was over, but had decided that they could not ignore such news. If the Lost Ones had been found, the Clan must re-establish contact. They owed the old ones too much not to do so.

But, as it often was for the Avari, things turned out to be more complicated than first seemed. The first spymasters that Rhinure sent did not come back. Just their Blades had been returned, bloodied and broken – snapped so cleanly that they would never be used again.

At first, Rhinure had not wanted to believe that the Lost Ones had committed such an atrocity. Broken Blades were the worst punishment the Clan could impose on any Avari – condemning them to not be remembered. The Lost Ones were Avari too; they would not do such a thing to Kin. They could not.

But time passed, and more spymasters had been lost and Rhinure had no choice to conclude that these Lost Ones, if that is what they truly were, were a threat. She had recalled the spymasters but her Avari still died – on patrols, in the forest, nowhere was safe. The mobilisation of the Orcs was just another symptom of the greater problem. Someone was trying to kill the Avari. If it truly was the Lost Ones, and Rhinure still did not want to believe so, then the rest of the elves were also at risk. After more than three ages in captivity, these Avari wanted vengeance. And such a thirst, Rhinure feared, would only be slacked with blood.

The Clan did not have the numbers to fend of such a threat alone and they knew it. All they could do was hide, once again and hope that this threat too would pass. Such was their predicament when Thranduil brought the offer of marriage to Rhinure. An alliance between the Avari and the Wood-elves, against their common foes. Rhinure had accepted knowing that this might be the only choice the Avari might have.

For the first time, the Avari would ask Thranduil to fight for them as they had fought for him. For the first time, they would ask the Wood-elves to take up arms for the Avari. For such a commitment, they had given the King their Sacrifice. For such a pledge, they fought once again for the Woodland King, even though they were tired, even though this time fighting could mean their extinction. As more elves sailed West, staying in Mirkwood became more dangerous for all concerned, Avari and Silvan elves both. By staying to fight for Thranduil, the Clan risked being found by the Lost Ones.

If they did so much, then was it unreasonable that they expected the King to reciprocate?

The Avari believed not, and as assurance that the King would remember his promise, they had given him a daughter.

“Yes, your marriage. But it is not your marriage alone that binds the King. It is your relationship to his beloved son. We know that whatever other faults the King may have, he would do anything for his son – even commit his people to war. And the Wood-elves would willingly follow their Prince and King.”

“I know all of this, Commander. I knew all of this when I agreed to the marriage. You are wasting my time by repeating it all.”

“I wanted to make sure you remembered, Mistress.”

“How can I not when I am reminded of it every time I look at Legolas?”

“How can you not indeed? I also wonder if you remember to keep the proper distance from him.”

“Are you making an accusation, Commander, or just thinking out loud?”

“What do you think, Mistress?”

“I think I have heard enough.” Rhinure made to get up but Túrgwaith’s voice stopped her.

 “Just a little more of your time, Mistress. I am interested in the question as well.”

“Do you believe that I am unable to maintain a proper relationship with my husband?”

“I believe you are doing the best you can, but I think you may underestimate the Prince.”

“And you do not?”

Túrgwaith inclined his head, acknowledging the merit of the remark. “But I am a little more objective when it comes to the Eldar.”

Rhinure’s eyes narrowed in displeasure, “I would have you make your accusations clearly, First Advisor. This is wasting all our times and is coming dangerously close to my limit.”

“As you wish, Mistress – but please remember if my words border on the offensive it is because I am forced to be brief.” Rhinure nodded and Túrgwaith continued, “Mistress, this Prince is dangerous.”

“Have I not being saying the same thing all this time?”

“Mistress, this Prince is dangerous to you.”

“How so?”

“Mistress, you – all of us, are not used to dealing with emotions. This Prince is nothing if not emotional. Even you cannot deny that.”

“Agreed.”

“Then you will also agree that emotions are dangerous – that they unbalance us and make us weak.”

“So I have always been taught.”

Túrgwaith allowed the answer to stand as it was, even though Rhinure had not admitted the insidiousness of feeling. “Then it stands to reason that there is at least a possibility that the Eldar is able to unhinge you. It is that possibility that we would warn you against.”

Rhinure looked at the other two elves, “Do you two think the same?”

“I am afraid we do, Mistress. We do not accuse you or think we can handle it better, we just want to re-enforce the danger you are in.”

“A danger that is necessary to face, First Guard.”

“We know, Mistress. We just want to make sure you are prepared to handle it as is best for the Clan. You must be close to the Prince so that he remains committed to us but not too close; otherwise, you will not be able to think clearly.

“The whole point of the alliance was that the Clan had a choice if it comes down to war with the Lost Ones. If you are not thinking dispassionately, you might bind us to a course of action which would dishonour us all.”

“And what action might that be?”

“You might commit us to war with our own Kin.”

“Is that not what we are working so hard to prepare for?”

“We are working so hard that, if we have no choice, we are able to survive. However, that does not mean we will fight against Kin. Especially not the Lost Ones. We owe them too great a debt. If there is any debt that we will die to repay, it is this one.

“You are young, so you do not remember what captivity was like. The humiliation, the hopelessness of it. The pain we learnt to bear but the loss of hope every day chipped away at our spirit, brought us closer to becoming Fallen. The only reason why we survived was because of the sacrifice the Lost Ones made for us.

“We will not – we cannot, fight against them unless we have no choice.”

“The Lost Ones want to kill us. Are you willing to accept that, First Advisor?”

“We do not know if that is true. We cannot even say for certain that it is the Lost Ones who are behind these attacks.”

“It is highly unlikely that it is anyone else.”

“Highly unlikely but not impossible.”

“So you mean for me to keep my distance from my Bonded?” Rhinure asked, making sure that the pain she felt at that thought was kept out of her voice.

“Only as much as is appropriate. Just so that we keep our choice.”

“Hypothetically speaking, if the Lost Ones do turn out to be responsible and they have no interest in us, just the Wood-elves – then what?”

The three, older Avari looked at each other. The question was a difficult one and Mistress would not let is rest until she received an answer.

“We will not betray Kin.”

“And what about the King? You are willing to betray him?”

“We owe him nothing.”

“He gave us a home. You call that nothing?”

“And we gave him our Blades and our blood. It was a bargain made and completed.”

“Do you deny the claim King Thranduil has on us? We owe him much as well.”

“A claim he has on us but there is a limit to it, as there is for everything. We have fought for him when he has needed us, died for him and his when he has needed it. We cannot keep doing that – especially against Kin.”

“Kin comes before everything,” said Ehtewen quietly.

“Not before family.”

“The Lost Ones are family, Mistress.” Túrgwaith’s voice was sharp. If Mistress considered Legolas her family, it would present a serious problem. That is the very thing they had been trying to prevent – distance must be maintained.

“We have given the Sindar much, we gave him you. We gave him Sarniel, Barion and Morion. How much more do you want to give before our debt is repaid? He has taken as much as he has given. The Lost Ones have given everything and taken nothing. We have more of a debt to them.”

Rhinure clenched her firsts. They were right and they were wrong. There was no right action but all were wrong as well. She could feel the letter burn against her skin, no longer a comforting presence. She remembered Legolas’ words and how unwilling he was to let her stay away, unwilling to share her with her Avari. He would not let her do her duty and she could not allow that.

Only one thing was clear – she needed time and she needed to think. The council was right; Legolas did confuse her, more than was comfortable, more than they knew. She had to be careful in the coming days; a wrong step would not only mean disaster for her people but on a more immediate level, for her as well.

If the Lost Ones were not a threat, then this alliance with the Wood-elves would be a hindrance. A hindrance that was glued together by her. A hindrance that could be as easily removed as her head.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x