Chapter 53 – Questions

It was a long night for Legolas. The conversation with Thranduil had wrung him out emotionally and physically, more than he cared to even admit privately. Legolas should have known that Thranduil would have picked up on the pain that Legolas buried deep within him. It was an instinct that had served the King well when it came to looking after his subjects needs and wishes, a gift which kept Thranduil tuned to his people. That instinct was honed to an uncanny degree by the intense love he bore for his son.

Legolas could have saved himself and Thranduil unnecessary heartache if he had just remembered that. He would not have had to deny himself the comfort of a confidant and Thranduil’s almost unconditional love. And his father would not have had to worry about his son’s reticence or whether the problem was more severe than he imagined.

As Legolas twisted and turned in bed, trying to fall asleep, he could not help but rue the time he had wasted. Even though he had played down the severity of the problem, it had been good to talk to his father. Thranduil’s strength helped anchor him, and had helped remind him of how wonderful life could be in Arda.

He would need moments like these as the Longing became worse. And worse it would become – Legolas was certain of it. He knew that to stay in Middle Earth was to sentence himself to years of pain. He would never be at peace until he left these shores. He was prepared for it, for who wanted peace when one could have joy?

Legolas supposed that the basic truth rested in that statement. Middle Earth was still a place that made him happy – it had its share of sorrow and suffering but the balance was positive in the end. It would continue to be so until his mortal friends were no more.

Legolas was fairly certain that most of the Wood-elves would sail eventually. Their time was over and they were never ones to overstay their welcome. It was only a matter of time and patience – someday the Woodland Realm would be re-united in its entirety. Families that had been separated, couples who had departed would see their loved ones again. Legolas was sure of it – as sure as the fact that his mother would be waiting for him when he stepped onto Valinor. Whatever separation they suffered was only temporary. Legolas clung to that belief as tenaciously as if his life depended on it.

And perhaps it did. For that promise of future joy was very important to him for he knew that no such happy ending lay in store for his human friends. For when they left him, it would be for eternity. He would lose them – it was inevitable. One day soon, no matter how long it may be in human terms, they would fade to memories that only existed in Legolas’ mind. It was this inescapable doom that lent such sharp poignancy to his feelings for these Second Born. And it was the inevitability of it that made his feelings so precious.

There was so little time – a few odd decades and then it would be all over. His friends would be dead and he would be alone.

Alone.

Such a frightening word – especially for a being who had to live for eternity with it. Mortals, one day or the other would be able to escape, but Elves – elves lived with every pain, every hurt, and every memory until it threatened to overwhelm them.

Legolas flung the blanket aside and stalked to the window. Thoughts like these were not helping him sleep.

As he looked out the window, he should have been able to see the dark outlines of the trees as they swayed in the cool breeze. If he had concentrated, he would have been able to make out the shadows of Wood-elves who were spending their nights in romantic moonlit walks.

Legolas’ eyes glanced over all these wonders but they did not really see. They were lost in images of the too brief glimpse he had had of the Sea. The vast expanse of water, seemingly calm and inviting but with promise of life beneath the waves. It was almost bewitching in its elegance. Even now, all Legolas had to do was close his eyes and he would be right back on the bluff, looking at the water. Noting the tiny ripples made by the breeze, the way the sun seemed to sink in the water’s embrace, the way the water sang to him – everything. The Sea called to him and when he was alone it was difficult to resist.

Legolas unconsciously leaned forward, trying to get closer, trying to take in more of that salt air. He frowned when the smell of beech assaulted him. This was not want he yearned for. Eyes still closed, he took a deep breath.

And snapped them open when he realised what he was doing. This was Mirkwood – the Sea was far from here. This was Mirkwood.

Mirkwood.

Home.

Mirkwood.

Legolas kept repeating the name like a mantra, trying to clear it of the sound of the gulls that rang through it.

He clamped his hands over his ears, desperate to get the sound out of his head. He did not realise it when his feet led him out the door. He did not know where he was until a deep voice asked, “Are you well, my Lord?”

Legolas looked up at Herenion with haunted blue eyes. “I do not think so.”

Herenion placed a gentle hand on the younger elf’s shoulder, stopping him from bolting. “Can I do anything?”

Legolas whispered, “Get Ada for me. Please.”

Herenion took off in a hurry, fear lending him speed.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

By the time Anor rose over Tirnen, Rhinure had long given up on trying to go to sleep. The Council’s admonitions had kept her tossing and turning most of the night. What if they were correct? What if duty lay with keeping faith with the Lost Ones? What if Kin ties were still so strong after three Ages that they kept her apart from Legolas?

Could she do that? Could she keep the distance that she needed to, or was the Council right in its concerns?

That thought alone – that she had become so entangled with her husband that she was unable to do her duty – frightened Rhinure. All her life, duty had been paramount. With a distant mother and an absent father she had been taught, rightly so, that nothing was or could be more important than duty. Rhinure was proud of her life, the fact that she had always maintained her dignity and had always done her duty. It had always been so clear, so comforting, to know what was expected from her and who was foremost in the priorities of her life.

Now, for the first time, duty caused more confusion than clarity. Legolas had claim on her, more claim than anyone else. She acknowledged that, did the karha on her hand not prove it?

Rhinure caressed the silver metal, running her fingers over the seal carved into them.  Legolas was her husband, and as such should be most important in her life. His needs should come before anyone else’s. That is what the Clan taught, and that is what Rhinure had grown up believing to be true. But now that she was married, she found that like everything else in life – the situation was not that simple. She was still Sacrifice and she still had a people who depended on her. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one, did they not? Why should one elf, even one as wonderful as Legolas, come before an entire people? What gave her the right to put him before the well-being of so many?

By marrying Legolas, she had proved that an individual was insignificant. The Clan came before her desires, why should that not still be the case? Why should she do what Legolas wanted? Why should she not still put her people before an elf she hardly knew?

The more Rhinure thought about it, the less satisfactory her answers seemed. Avari vows held her to Legolas, so Avari vows could not be used to keep her away from him. If the Clan’s teachings were correct, and her Bonded came before everything else, then the Council could not expect her to abandon him to the Lost Ones. He held her Four, and they always outweighed the Three.

But neither could she drag her people into a conflict that could end their lives.

Rhinure turned and buried her face in her pillow. It would be so much simpler if she just locked herself up in her room and refused to come out. Possibly it was childish to want to hide from everything, but Rhinure could not help it. She was tired of all of this, of this constant pressure on her, of this constant expectation that she would do what was correct.

How could she when she did not know what was correct herself?

All she knew was that the thought of putting one elf before all others was an anathema to her spirit. She could not do it. The Council was correct – she had to put her Clan before her husband. It would be painful, but then such was life.

*~ I am sorry Legolas. ~*

Even in her thoughts Rhinure felt the futility of those words. They did not mitigate or change anything. Rhinure would still have to hurt him to do what was good for her people. Or at least, she thought she would be hurting him. At this moment, Rhinure wished with all the desire she could muster that she was mistaken about Legolas. That she was projecting her own desires onto him. Maybe he did not care about her as she did about him. Maybe he did not ache as she did. His words could be honey from a honeyed charmer. His need and possessiveness of her, more a matter of ego than the heart.

She could hope, could she not?

At that moment, Rhinure was willing to be humiliated and find out that everything she believed, everything she hoped about her marriage was false. If it meant sparing Legolas pain, she would gladly play the fool to his bemused self.

Rhinure smiled, surprised and not a little amused at her fanciful thoughts. Sometimes, she agreed with Túrgwaith’s opinion that she was too young for this job. No matter what she felt for Legolas – and she did feel something, even if she was not sure what it was exactly, not love but not indifference either – in the end she had too much pride to humble herself. For anyone, for anything.

She was still Sacrifice, she was still Avari. The Clan had not survived these long ages by presenting their unprotected backs to their enemies. Just because the Council had told her to stay away from Legolas did not mean that she would, or should. While Rhinure was sure that the good of her people morally outweighed her own desire, and therefore her relationship with Legolas, that did not mean the Council was equally right about their decision not to fight the Lost Ones if they decided to leave the Clan alone.

Yes, they were correct when they said – in direct contravention to Avari traditions – Rhinure’s duty to the Clan must come before Legolas. She could not let her people die because she was infatuated by an Eldar. She would never be able to live with herself. But if the Council was correct in asking her to bend Avari Honour to benefit them, then why could she not bend it a little further to suit her?

The Lost Ones were Kin, and they had claim on the Clan. The Council had been right when they had said that, but had they been right when they had said that their debt must be paid at all costs? If the cost was paid with innocent blood, then was not the price too high? Were not the Wood-elves innocent? Did they too not deserve to live? The Council did not understand them, even Rhinure did not. But unlike them, she had seen enough of them to know they possessed a rare courage and dignity mixed with a strange resilience that excited her. They too had been touched by the Shadow, but unlike their Avari cousins they had held onto the joy that life had to offer. To embrace the pain that joy often brought with it was a mark of such audacious courage that it frightened Rhinure. If the Clan did not help such beings then by what right did they to call themselves quendi?

Rhinure had trouble reconciling what she had seen of the Wood-elves to what she knew about them. These elves were of the Eldar, they had abandoned the Clan. They had betrayed their Kin in the worse way – by forgetting them. Kin was supposed to be there for Kin. If the Eldar had broken Kin ties then they could not expect those very same ties to help them now. Could they?

For were the Wood-elves innocent? While they had helped the Avari after the Last Alliance, did that absolve them of all guilt? The Council believed that it did not. For the longest time, Rhinure had accepted that belief. To some extent she still did, which was why she kept her people away from the Wood-elves. It would be easy to forget the grievance the Avari had against the Eldar, for the latter were charming and outwardly welcoming. Rhinure saw that trap for what it was, for she still hovered over it – keeping out of it by the slimmest of margins. If the Avari forgot their past, their hurt, then they would forget their duty, and their Honour too. Without Honour, the Avari had nothing.

And if it did come down to a choice, the Clan or the Wood-elves, then should not Rhinure choose her own people?

But why did if have to be and all or nothing choice? Why could she not choose both?

But could she abandon her other Kin – Lost but still Kin?

Did she even have a choice? Her first duty was to ensure the Clan’s survival. What was to say that survival lay with the Lost Ones? Perhaps it was best that the Clan joined irrevocably with the Wood-elves?

Would the Wood-elves even accept them? Would they betray them again?

Would the Lost Ones spare them even if they helped?

Why did their Kin want to hurt them in the first place?

So many questions – Rhinure massaged her temple. She wished she had more answers or at least a better understanding of the questions. All she had right now was doubts and more doubts which culminated in the most spectacular of headaches.

*~ I hate this. I hate not understanding and I hate not knowing what I have to do. ~*

Long into the night and the next day, Rhinure continued thinking as her fingers massaged the karha on her hand.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Thranduil stroked the golden head in his lap. It had been difficult but Legolas had finally managed to fall asleep, comforted by the fact that Thranduil was there.

“Rough night.”

Thranduil nodded, “Yes it was. I did not realise that the Longing was so bad.”

“Did you think that he would tell you the whole truth, knowing how it would only worry you?”

“I suppose not, but I had thought I would have been able to pick up on any understatements.”

Herenion smiled, “He grows up – this son of yours, my King. He is as stubborn as you and as unsparing of himself.”

Thranduil covered Legolas with a blanket before answering, “I do not like to see him this way.”

“I know – as does he.” Herenion watched his older charge before adding quietly. “He will be better in the morning.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“How can you not? He is strong, he will hide his pain better in the morning, after this night’s rest.”

“I do not want him to hide his pain.”

“Then would you rather he bear his pain where everyone may see and everyone may pity.”

“I would have him be at peace, not be in any kind of pain.”

“Then send him across the Sea, but I fear that even there he will suffer. Such is life and the meaning of living.”

“I cannot, it is not my decision. And even if it were I do not know if I could send him away. I cannot be that strong.”

“Then be there for him, my King and pray that it is enough for now.”

Thranduil nodded absent-mindedly as he concentrated on placing a pillow under Legolas’ head. He was losing feeling in his leg – his son was no longer a tiny elfling, no matter how Thranduil saw him.

Legolas frowned in his sleep, fingers coming up to search for his father. Thranduil sighed a little when a vice-like grip attached to his wrist, effectively holding him in place.

“Give it up, little one. Legolas is not going to let you go this night.”

Thranduil glared at the older, extremely amused elf. Just because Herenion had once taken care of him did not mean that he could still treat him like a child.

“I am also immune to those stares of yours,” Herenion said, all the while leaning on the side wall looking down at the two golden elves. “Your father could do better.”

“That he could – but only because he had more practice.” Thranduil ginned up at his once Bodyguard.

Herenion smiled back; pleased that Thranduil could still find humour even though he was worried about his son. “I am glad that you are happy.”

“I will not let myself be anything else,” Thranduil replied softly as he went back to stroking his son’s head.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Herenion looked over his shoulder as Thranduil gently closed the door behind him. He had finally managed to extract himself from Legolas’ clutches – just in time to greet the rising Sun.

“What do you plan to do about Legolas?”

“Protect him as much as I am able.”

“Even from his wife?” Herenion asked causally – a little too causally for Thranduil’s liking.

It was quite astounding, the change in Thranduil’s demeanour, Herenion mused. The softness that still lingered in his face and posture was immediately wiped out. Eyes became narrowed, as the younger elf looked speculatively at his once bodyguard. Lips thinned in disapproval at the implied criticism in Herenion’s question. Shoulders stiffened, and he drew himself to his full height.

All in all, every inch of him looked like the King he was. A truly impressive sight – and one that did not affect Herenion in the slightest. This was his charge – the closest thing he had ever had to a son. And not matter how old children became, children they remained.

When Herenion realized that Thranduil would not answer, he too, straightened his shoulders and faced his King. “Answer my question, child.”

Thranduil started with displeasure, it was not often that Herenion dropped the cheerful mask he wore. It lulled people into underestimating him, believing him to be a nice sort – a little simple perhaps, but overall a nice, jolly person. But it was times like these that Thranduil was once again reminded why Oropher had entrusted his son’s security to the then young elf, why Thranduil had charged him to protect his own beloved Heir – Herenion always knew what was happening around him and he was not afraid to criticise that which he disapproved of. He protected his charges with the utmost loyalty and devotion, even if it meant fighting those that he loved.

If protecting Legolas meant that he would have to displease, and perhaps even hurt Thranduil, then Herenion was more than willing to do that.

“I will not have you speaking to me in this manner, Herenion.” Thranduil’s voice was low and very dangerous. No matter how much he loved and respected Herenion, he was not about to let anyone forget that he was King.

“I will not have you treating my Prince in this manner.”

“You do not decide what I can or cannot do. Remember that.”

“You will hurt Legolas more by not telling him.” Herenion kept his voice calm and allowed some of the love he felt for both these elves to seep though.

And it was the love, the concern, that brought Thranduil short. Herenion had a valid point, no matter how much Thranduil wanted to deny it. “Telling him will hurt him as well – perhaps as much. “

“How can you believe that? You sent Maenon to … gather information about your new daughter.”

“Call a spade a spade, Herenion. I sent him to spy on her.”

“As you wish. You sent him to spy on her, knowing full well that she would not be pleased if she learns of his presence.”

“He will not be caught.”

“I have no doubts that he will be successful. But, leaving aside that highly disturbing thought that you are sending one of your elves into a situation that might get him ‘caught’ by your daughter-in-law, have you thought about what this means for Legolas? You are spying on his wife.”

“I know, and I have thought about this. Which is precisely why I am not telling him. Their relationship is difficult enough as it is – they both hold too much of themselves back, afraid to open up to the other. Putting Legolas in a position of having to lie to his wife about what he knows will break their marriage.”

“You underestimate what they have.”

“What do they have, Herenion? A burgeoning and often volatile attraction, and centuries of mistrust? Not a combination that makes for a successful marriage.”

“They have respect for the other and a strength of will to see any obstacles through.”

“And if that strength of will becomes part of the problem – then what? Legolas does not like lying – he can do it if he must, but only with extreme reservation. If I tell him of Meanon’s assignment then he will be liable. He will not tell me to stop it for he would recognise the advantage it would give us. Knowing where the Avari live, and exactly how many elves they have will give us the upper hand in making our demands, especially since Lady Rhinure is so adamant about keeping us away.

“However, he will tell Rhinure that he knows her secret the first opportunity he gets.”

“He would not tell her. It would rob us of our advantage if we ever want to use Maenon again.”

“So you want to put my son in the position where he has to lie to his wife – not once, but for a while yet?”

Herenion nodded, “If he wants her then he will lie. Just until they have the trust when such necessary secrets are no longer needed.”

“He would rather be honest and forgo what he wants from her than take the easier path and conceal his duplicity. Therefore, as I said – the first opportunity he gets will be the one in which Rhinure learns that she has been lied to.

“And where will that leave Legolas? For once Rhinure learns that she cannot trust him she will stay away from him even more than she does now. Legolas would lose his wife even though she would still be alive. I will not have my son hurt like that – as I was.”

Thranduil’s voice wavered for a moment, but he managed to steady itself enough to continue, “This is best for all. I get the information I need, and my son gets a chance at the marriage he wants. He has enough to worry about without taking on this additional burden.”

“He is your second in command – he should be informed of anything that makes a difference to the defence of this Realm.” Herenion tried one last time to convince his King. He agreed with most of Thranduil’s arguments but he could not change how he felt. And this felt wrong. It would be so much simpler and better if all of them – the Avari and Eldar, Thranduil and Rhinure, and especially Legolas and Rhinure – sat down and talked about what was happening openly and honestly. Yes, there was a risk that they might not be able to resolve things but it was better than this plotting and counterplotting.

“He should be informed of anything that makes a material difference to the defence of the Realm. Until I am certain that Rhinure is hiding something important I will not involve Legolas.” Thranduil’s tone was firm and indicated that this was the end of the matter. The subject was closed for discussion.

However, Herenion had been serving for too long to not be allowed certain liberties. “And the Prince is not allowed to share in the King’s suspicions and fears. Is he to be treated so cautiously?” Herenion’s tone was bitter and tired. It was fortunate that he was not King or someone important for he did not have the stomach for all this scheming.

“That, is the King’s decision.”

With that Thranduil walked off, leaving Herenion guarding Legolas’ door.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure swung onto the back of her horse with effortless Elven grace, showing off her horsemanship. Her mare snorted at her mistress’ antics, causing Rhinure to pat the horse’s back affectionately.

Istion, now recovered from his election, looked at his Mistress wondering why it was easier for her to show her feelings for an animal and not her elves. Why was Rhinure not able to smile as easily at him, as she was to that beast? Why was it taboo for the Avari to show that they felt when they so obviously did? Why did he even care?

“Pay attention, Second Guard. You are supposed to be guarding Mistress and not daydreaming.”

It was not so much Ehtewen’s tone that snapped Istion back; she always spoke in this clipped manner, but the title she gave him. Second Guard.

Sometimes, Istion still had trouble adjusting to the fact that he was now supposed to be filling Morion’s place. He did not regret taking this position – he would not begrudge anything he did for Mistress Rhinure. But sometimes he wondered if she would not be better served by someone with more experience. Someone who would be able to help her understand whatever she struggled with, and ease whatever troubled her.

Rhinure turned around and told him to fall in place. Though her face was neutral, Istion thought he detected a look of encouragement and support in her eyes. Maybe it did not matter how inexperienced or young he was. Maybe all that mattered was that Mistress wanted him there. He would do anything for her.

Istion moved into position behind Rhinure’s left, keeping an eye on the terrain, even though they were still in sight of Tirnen. No one else seemed as bothered as he was but then, he supposed, it was not their first mission in their official capacities. And with the exception of Ehtewen, none of them were responsible for Rhinure.

“If you do not pay more attention, Second Guard, I will remove you for needlessly endangering the Sacrifice’s life.”

This time Ehtewen’s tone caught Istion’s attention and held it.

Ruminations could wait until a time Ehtewen was not nearby, Istion decided.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure turned to Agorion, “Did it take you long to find the site?”

“Long enough.” Agorion manoeuvred his horse to come alongside Rhinure’s. “But I believe the site is perfect for our needs.”

“How far is it from the Woodland Realm?”

“Three days hard ride.”

Rhinure frowned, instinctively feeling that the distance was too short. She had wanted the Avari to be closer to the Wood-elves; she knew it would be safer for them. The Lost Ones would not expect it since it went against everything the Avari had ever done since the Great Journey. Every one not of their own Kin, not in their Clan was treated with suspicion or at best kept at arms length. To deliberately move closer, to increase ties between Avari and Eldar was unheard of. The very uniqueness of the decision gave the Clan some measure of protection in itself.

Nevertheless, Rhinure could not help feel uneasy. It was ingrained in her – this desire to protect her people’s anonymity. This move brought them too close and threatened to expose them. Rationally she knew it made little difference, even if Thranduil discovered them what difference did it make? He could not ask them to leave, could he? At most, he would be able to keep a closer eye of the Avari. That was not such a big deal, now was it?

Rhinure shuddered; the thought of Thranduil keeping an eye on them was more than frightening. She had no delusions when it came to her father-in-law. If Thranduil ever found out where they lived, they would have even less freedom than they did now. They would not be able to keep their independence, especially when it came to their present situation. Rhinure paled, finding Tirnen would also mean that Thranduil would eventually find out about the Lost Ones. And if he found out about them … so would Legolas.

Rhinure felt sick as that thought washed over her. What would Legolas think of her when he discovered what she had been hiding? Would he be angry? Would he understand? Would it even make a difference? Perhaps he would just look at her and just shake his head knowingly. What more could he expect from a mornedhel like her?

Rhinure had to keep Tirnen a secret. She must – not only for the Avari but for her as well. She did not want Legolas to learn about any of this until she was ready to tell him. But the question remained, when would she be ready? If Rhinure was honest with herself, she knew that time would not come anytime soon.

The Avari would just have to be more careful.

“Lead on, Captain. Tirnen gets anxious to move.”

Agorion nodded and took the lead.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

*~ Agorion has done well. ~*

Rhinure looked around the clearing and felt pride at her Captain’s skill. The trees were thick here, preventing Tirnen from being observed from a distance. The area was not easy to approach because of the overgrown foliage. Agorion had cleared a discrete path, one that would not be easy to find unless one knew where to look. There was even a small hidden lake nearby which would take care of the city’s water needs.

All in all, it was a good site.

“Are you pleased, Mistress?”

Rhinure nodded, wondering how quickly they would have to leave here as well. Tirnen had never been in one place long enough to call it home. Every time they moved, Rhinure automatically looked to the next place they would need to be in. Maybe that was why she had never become too attached to Mirkwood. It was an expedient place to be but … home? No, it was not home.

Home was Cuiviénen. Even though Rhinure had never seen the Waters, she knew that it was the last place where all her Kin had been together. The last place her Kin had been happy. The first and last place they had ever laid claim to and called home. It was strangely fitting that the Avari the land they called home was now destroyed – as destroyed as their lives.

*~Home. ~*

*~ Cuiviénen. ~*

Rhinure looked around at the forest that had given them shelter, protected them against their enemies and had shared its bounty with the lost elves.

*~ If I could call anything else home, it would be this place. ~*

“Mistress, would you like to see the lake?”

Rhinure turned to Agorion, clearing her head and concentrating on the matter in hand. “Lead on, Captain.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure had to admit the lake was lovely. A little small, but the water was usable, fed by a fresh water stream. It was surrounded by trees so that the leaves covered the water, creating an intimate little enclave. Branches dipped in the water, and lilies floated on the surface. It was charming, definitely a place to be shared with lovers.

Rhinure bent down to dip her hand in the water – cold. But then that was good too; she had always preferred her drinking water to be slightly chilled. It slid down her throat better that way.

She crouched down on the water’s edge, cupping her hands so that she could drink. As her hands sank under the water, she imagined what it would be like to take a swim in this lake. She wiped her face as she let her mind wander.

On a hot summer’s day, when Anor’s light was harsh and unforgiving in the sky, this water would still be cool. Floating in such water would become all the more welcome. Rhinure wondered if Legolas liked swimming. Particularly, would he like swimming with her?

Rhinure knew that the idea had singular appeal for her. The water, an unclad Legolas, time spent relaxing, the two of them alone – Rhinure could picture the water dripping down his smooth chest, her hands wiping them off, his hands coming up to grip her and pull her closer. The water swirling around them, hiding what they were doing …

Suddenly the water did not feel cool anymore on her face. Rhinure stood up, a little abruptly. “Is that all, Captain?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You have done well. We should be able to move her by the end of the week.”

“That is good, Mistress.”

“Tell the others to prepare to leave. We are returning to Tirnen.”

Agorion saluted and walked off, leaving Rhinure alone beside the lake.

As she headed back herself, she took one more look at the lake.

*~ Legolas. ~*

Rhinure trembled; she had to get back to him soon before she lost what little sanity she had left.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

If there was one thing to remember about the Avari, it was their efficiency. They might not do things with flair but they did things well. A less charitable observer would call their movements, their mode of living, mechanical, almost lifeless. Living automatons – taking no pleasure or displeasure from their actions.

As Rhinure watched the Avari convoy, carrying their homes on their backs, move towards Tirnen’s new resting place, she was struck anew by how unfair such an observation would be.

The Avari, like in most other things, were good at hiding what they felt, but not good enough that Rhinure could not see the sadness in their gait. The stiffness of their shoulders, the rigid control they kept on their features, all indicated their grief to her. She did not need to see tears to know that her Avari wept today.

Once again, they left a place that might have become home if they had been given a chance. Once again, they packed up and moved on, not knowing how long this new site would be theirs, not knowing if they would see another move. What else was there to do? They had been doing this for as long as Rhinure could remember, since they had become Avari. This is what they were – wanderers, refugees.

In the course of their journey, they had learnt that it was easier to deal with life if they pretended not to be affected by it. By denying how much they hurt, they could pretend away the hurt in the first place. By not thinking about what they lost, they did not have to accept that they had lost something.

 It was probably not the healthiest solution but it worked. The Avari in front of Rhinure were testament to that fact. Whatever they were, they were alive and in the end that was all that mattered.

That and a hope for a better future.

Rhinure looked at little Isar bouncing on his father’s shoulders and knew that as long as the Clan had these little ones, they would be fine. As she watched the little elfling point out things to his indulgent father, she felt a surge of fierce protectiveness in her heart. These little ones, these little hopes must be protected – no matter what the cost. What did it matter what the Clan had to do as long as they were safe?

Once, the Lost Ones had done the same for Rhinure’s people. They had made a pact with the Shadow to protect their children. They had sacrificed themselves to ensure their people’s future. Now Rhinure was prepared to do the same for her Avari. Did that not make her exactly like the Lost Ones? What right did she have to condemn them when in their position she would have done the same?

What right did she have to look to the Wood-elves and expect them to fight her lost Kin, when she knew that she too was like them? If ever the Wood-elves learnt that, then would they not turn on her as well?

*~ Not again. I will not let myself sink into this quagmire. Later – I will think about this later. ~*

Rhinure turned back to the convoy, relaying orders to the stragglers and making sure that the move progressed smoothly. There was much to be done and there was time enough for speculation later. No one watching her would have guessed at the turmoil churning inside her.

For were the Avari not good at ignoring what they wished, when they wished?

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The move took less time than Rhinure had originally expected. With the site found and Túrgwaith’s efficient preparations, the Avari had settled in their new site in what felt like record time.

Rhinure watched a group of elves put up the last remaining structures, and she knew that it was time for her to leave. Though she had been impatient to return to Legolas, now that the time was upon her, she found that she did not want to leave.

Life if Tirnen was not any easier than it was in the Woodland Realm, but it was known. And here, Rhinure was sure that she was needed, that she was amongst people who were like her – who knew her, who she knew – her people.

Now that she had to return, Rhinure felt a strange nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She had never felt like this before. The cold metallic taste of fear, she was familiar with. She had felt it many times before, before she had gone into battle, even before she had married Legolas. But this was not fear – this feeling made her agitated, make her stomach twist in complicated knots, but it did not make her shudder in pain.

No, that was wrong too, it made her shudder, but not enough to turn back. It made her hurt but not enough to turn back. It made her agitated but at the same time, she knew that they only solution was to see him.

This confused her – this feeling now that she was going back.

Rhinure sighed; she really did not need this. Emotions were too complicated. She was a lot better off when she left them in the background where they belonged and did not try to analyse them. All she managed to do was create more problems for herself.

Rhinure went back to saddling her horse with her provisions. This time she was taking more than herself back to the Realm. For one thing, she had decided she needed a more extensive wardrobe. Even though Ehtewen had disapproved, Rhinure had packed many of her clothes to take back with her. Possible it was the implication that Rhinure would not be returning to Tirnen for some time that so displeased Ehtewen.

Or it could be that some of the clothes Rhinure packed were a little risqué – something no modest elleth would wear in public. Rhinure had assured her that she did not mean to wear them in public at all – just for Legolas. For some reason, Ehtewen had become even more annoyed at that remark. 

Rhinure shrugged; her First Guard would have to learn that Rhinure made her own decisions in the end. She would stay away from Legolas if and only if she felt it was the correct thing to do. Until then she was not about to deprive herself of her husband. Still, she had heeded Ehtewen’s advice and packed in more of the more presentable garments, taking only a few of the more intimate things. Rhinure figured she could always send for them later.

“Mistress!” A small cry made her look up from her horse. Isar was running furiously towards her, hands clutching something very tightly. As he approached, Rhinure bent down to catch him in her arms.

He latched onto her neck and squeezed for all that he was worth. Rhinure let him choke her for a moment, before gently prying his arms away from her neck. She was fond of breathing after all. “Gently, little one. You are getting too strong for me.”

Isar lifted his face from Rhinure’s shoulder and smiled triumphantly at her. “I guess I am.” Then suddenly his face fell and he let out a plaintive wail.

“What is it? Are you hurt?” Rhinure asked worriedly.

“No,” Isar sniffed. “I crushed your flowers – again.” He extended his fists woefully towards her.

Rhinure looked down to see that flowers he carried in his hands had been flattened between them. “It is all right, little one. I can still keep the flowers.”

“Are you sure?” Isar asked.

“I am certain. They are lovely.”

Isar looked suspiciously at the bouquet in his hands. They looked a little crumpled to him and not nice at all. But Mistress knew best after all.

“Well, if you are sure. Then,” Isar thrust the flowers almost into Rhinure’s face. “These are for you.”

“Thank you.” Rhinure carefully took them out of Isar’s hands, afraid to be assaulted by them again. “Have you come to say goodbye?”

Isar clutched at Rhinure again and nodded. “Mistress?”

“Yes?”

“I do not want you to leave.”

“I must. You understand that – it is my duty.”

“And one must always do one’s duty.”

“Yes they must,” agreed Rhinure as she patted the little head, and gently put him down. “It is time for me to leave.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Of course you will. What kind of question is that?”

“Promise?”

“I promise. You will see me again, even if I have to bring you to the Realm.”

Isar’s eyes widened at the thought of him living amongst those shiny elves. It did not sound very appealing. “Can’t you just come back?”

“I will try.” Rhinure managed to keep the smile off her face, having read the child’s reluctance to accompany her correctly.

Isar perked up, and saluted Rhinure as she swung onto her horse, putting the flowers carefully in her hair, and rode towards her waiting Company. “Goodbye, Mistress. Safe journey.”

“Goodbye, little one.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

When Malyian opened the door, she had not been expecting to see the Prince standing there. It was not every day that Legolas came to visit even if her husband and he had been close friends once. They were still friends to be sure, but as Legolas had grown older, the pressures of rule did not leave much time for friends, old or new.

“Are you going to let me in or are you planning to keep staring at me all day?”

Malyian blushed at Legolas’ words. The Prince was fair and even though Malyian was married she could not help but notice how fine he looked. In his soft grey tunic, calf length boots he looked good enough to eat.

“Malyian?” Legolas asked, a little concerned at the glazed look in her eyes.

Malyian blushed even more, if that was possible. She hurriedly stepped aside, “Come in, hir nín.”                

Legolas smiled knowing some of the reason why Malyian was behaving so peculiarly. He knew the effect he had on ellyth. How could he not when practically every ellyth he met behaved oddly around him? “Thank you Malyian. And how many times have I asked you not to be so formal around me? I thought we were friends.” Legolas pretended to pout, widening his blue eyes slightly.

“We are, my Lord. We are,” Malyian hastened to assure the Prince. She knew he was teasing her but he looked so forlorn that she could not help reassuring him. Legolas crossed him arms and looked at her with amusement, eyebrows raised. It was only after a moment of contemplating how strong his arms looked, that Malyian realised that she had called him ‘my Lord’ again.

“I am sorry, my Lord.” Legolas frowned again causing her to add, “I mean Legolas.”

Legolas tapped his foot, pretending an impatience he did not feel.

“Leave my wife alone, Legolas. You have a wife of your own now, practise your wiles on her.”

Legolas turned around to see a frowning elf in the doorway. “Galárin!” Legolas exclaimed happily and stepped forward to embrace his friend.

Galárin laughed and returned the favour, the two friends threatening to choke the life out of the other. Unfortunately, Legolas was a warrior and Galárin only a chef – a royal chef but a cook nonetheless. If Legolas had been a pile of vegetables, Galárin would have had no trouble in disposing of him but the Prince was regrettably a little more substantial.

“My Lord, I am dying from the lack of air here.”

“Oh,” Legolas immediately let go of his friend. “I do apologise. I oft forget that you no longer train like we warriors do.”

“That is one of the benefits of not fighting for a living.” Galárin smiled and could not help but add, “But I can still wield a knife well enough so beware.”

Legolas laughed, “So can I, my friends. So can I.”

“If you two strong, virile males have had enough of threatening each other, would my husband like to step in and close the door behind him?” Malyian asked archly, having recovered from the lovely shock of seeing the Prince.

Both elves looked at her and bowed in synchronised movements. “As my Lady commands.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

It was almost mid-day when Rhinure called for a stop to have a meal. Her company were glad for the rest since they had been riding hard for the last few days. The pace Rhinure had set had been gruelling but none had questioned her. Maybe they had been effected by the urgency that seemed to hang around her, thick and heavy like a cloak. None of the elves could mistake Rhinure’s determination to return to the Kingdom. Each speculated on the reason why this was so but none dared ask her.

Even Istion would not ask her directly – her Sacrifice persona was on exceptionally tightly today. She would not appreciate any impertinence from anyone today. Part of Istion understood her need for privacy. Going back to the Wood-elves required much mental preparation, and all the more so for Rhinure. Istion found the Silvan elves confusing enough that he could not imagine how Rhinure coped. Prince Legolas seemed a nice elf, but Istion knew that he would not want to be married to such a person.

Besides, there was so much else the Mistress Rhinure had to worry about – the subtle ebbs and flows of power, of advantage and disadvantage. The minute shifts, which made up the game – the game on which hinged the Avari’s survival. It was no wonder that Rhinure spent much of her time planning. Istion hoped that it would be enough.

Still, it would not do either if she … brooded on the subject. Istion smiled on the inside at the thought of Rhinure brooding. She would not appreciate such a description of her behaviour.

“Mistress.”

“Yes?”

“Are you planning to send a messenger to the King, informing him of our arrival?”

“Do you not think we would not be welcome without having to send advance warning, Second Guard?”

“That is not what I meant, but you can answer that question if you feel it more pertinent.”

“In answer to yours, I have sent a messenger to the King. It should arrive a day, maybe a little more, before us. That will be enough of a warning, do you not think so?”

Istion nodded as Rhinure added, “Besides, I think he will know soon enough that we have entered his Realm.”

Istion instantly came on the alert, “What do you mean, Mistress?”

“Did you really think that the King’s borders are so unprotected? We will be watched soon enough.”

“And we are not now?”

“I do not think so, we are not that close to his borders yet. He does not send scouts this far – usually.” Rhinure paused, suddenly unsure about her words. She felt a nameless foreboding, a sense that she was being watched. She strained her ears to the utmost, and opened her senses hoping to get some concrete proof. But, there was nothing there. The trees were calm and the nearby stream was the only sound she could here. Even the animals were silent, avoiding the dark elves. Still, Rhinure had posted sentries to ensure that no one would be able to surprise them. “We are safe.”

“For now.”

“Yes, for now.” Rhinure clasped Istion’s arm. “Rest and eat something. We ride out soon.”

Istion saluted and watched as his Mistress went to check on the camp’s perimeters once again.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

From the safety of the concealing shadows, Maenon watched the Avari set up camp with some interest. They were good, he had to admit. And not very trusting. The first thing they had done was set up a perimeter and place scouts around it, despite the fact that they were near the Realm’s borders and in well-patrolled territory. And not only one guard at a time, but at least a pair. For a party of twelve, such precaution bordered on the obsessive.

Maenon noted with professional pride that the scouts remained alert despite the pace that the Princess had set. Her party was tired, but they did not let not let their guard down. Maenon would have done the same.

Let it not be said that he was not obsessive in his own right.

 He had been following the Princess’ company for the last few days now. He had left them as they approached the area where Thranduil believed Tirnen to be in, since Maenon did not want to inadvertently stumble onto one of the Avari patrols. He was a superb scout and knew his way around the forest better than any elf alive, but accidents were known to happen and he did not want to fail his King because he was not cautious enough. Even Orcs were known to get lucky, and these were elves.

Besides, his mission was to ascertain Tirnen’s general location. Even if he did not see the settlement with his own eyes, it did not matter if he was able to give Thranduil a fairly accurate estimate. He could afford to be patient and not take unnecessary risks.

His patience had finally paid off when he caught sight of the Avari caravan. The King had been correct when he had surmised that the Avari were nomadic. And from what Maenon could see, they had been for a while.  Their trek had the air of practised ease, which bespoke a long familiarity. Every one seemed to know their place, and from what Maenon could gather from this distance, each seemed to know the precautions they had to take. Even the little ones helped instead of hindering, making sure that nothing fell off the carts and that the ropes holding down the supplies were in place.

It was that, more than anything else, which convinced Maenon that the Avari had done this before – many a time before.

However, it also presented a problem for him. If the Avari kept moving, then it would be harder to keep an eye on them. The King would have to be additionally careful when searching Avari territory. It would not do to inadvertently scare them into moving again.

It was thus that convinced Maenon to be even more cautious. That, and the sight of the Princess’ face. Generally she was a pretty little thing, not beautiful but attractive in her independence and competence. Maenon could understand the Prince’s fascination with his wife – he had seen and been admired by some great beauties, but none had that air of mystery and detachment that this dark Princess had. However, if he could have seen his wife now, he would have seen a completely different side to the cool elleth he knew.

This elleth was intense as the Princess could never be – wholly committed to her task and her people. For all her pretended indifference, she radiated this passion that was breath taking. Maenon did not have to be close to her to feel her devotion. She was different here than at the Palace – it was as if the cage holding her in had finally broken.

However, it could be this very side that attracted the Prince. Like attracted like after all – a hunter was always interested in another hunter, if only as competition. After all the tame ellyth that hovered around him, the Prince must have found this dangerous elf to be a worthy mate.

For this elleth was dangerous. Maenon recognised that quality, it was one had had seen in his Prince and King. He had seen hints of it in his Princess, but now he was seeing the full force of it. He knew then, if he were caught he would be released for a long time. He did not think the Princess would put to death, but she would never trust the Wood-elves again. The Princess would take his presence to be an intrusion and an act of betrayal.

*~ As it should be. ~*

Maenon smiled as he melted into the shadows, the trees welcoming one of their own.

*~ This will be more enjoyable than I first imagined. ~*

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure crouched near the stream, washing the dust from her face. Something was wrong, she could feel it.

Rhinure looked up again, scanning the trees.

Nothing.

Her guards seemed at ease, indicating that all was well.

Why then did she sense an unfriendly presence? She could almost taste it.

Rhinure sighed, and shook her head. There was no one there. If there were someone spying on them, her scouts would have found him. The Avari were very good at what they did after all.

She was getting paranoid. This is what happened when one trusted their emotions. They started jumping at shadows.

Rhinure got up and put one of Isar’s blooms in her hair, throwing the rest of the crumpled flowers in the stream. She should get rid of the rest as well, but she could not resist saving one at least. A little something to remind her of the little Elfling.

*~ Such sentimentality. I hope Cothion does not notice. ~*

But Cothion, like most of the company seemed more interested in the food in front of him. He had been surprisingly subdued for most of the journey, causing Rhinure to wonder what was going through his head. It did not bode well for her, of that she was certain.

“Captain, make haste. We leave soon.”

Agorion raised his head from his lunch and nodded, “As my Mistress commands.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Maenon froze when Rhinure stiffened and scanned the trees again, not making event he slightest of sounds, blending into the tree tops completely. As expected, her eyes passed over him and she relaxed. Marginally, but still – some of the tension left her body.

 The Avari might be good, but Maenon had been doing this for a long time. It would take more a mere child to beat him at this game. This was his forest, his home turf and Maenon was not one to let any advantage slip by him. When Rhinure turned back to her elves, Maenon knew he was safe. They had not detected his presence and they would not, unless he wanted them too.

Maenon watched patiently as the Avari finished their food and prepared to leave. He watched with not inconsiderable amusement, when each Avari washed their horse, tack, gear and finally themselves very carefully – making sure that no dirt remained on them. They would make an impressive entry into the Palace – the stereotypical image of an elf, perfectly clean and groomed.

*~ My apologies Prince. It seems as if your wife anticipated your plan. ~*

Rhinure was no fool. She knew that the presence of soil would aid the Wood-elves in gathering where Tirnen was. She had heard it said that they could tell the area a single grain of dirt was from. It was probably an exaggeration, but Rhinure was not about to take any chances. She ordered everything, no matter how small, to be hosed down and washed thoroughly. Now, the only evidence would be that they stopped at this stream.

Rhinure finished her own cleaning and turned to Cothion. He nodded, everything was satisfactory. With that, the Avari moved out. They would be at the Palace by the end of tomorrow.

They did not see Maenon drop from the trees as they faded into the distance.

It had been fortunate that the King had not trusted to Avari carelessness for the success of his plan. It was still possible that Faelon would find something useful but it was unlikely. However, Maenon’s report would be enough to satisfy the King.

Maenon looked through the recently abandoned campsite.

*~ Nothing. Very good. Thorough. ~*

*~ Wait … ~*

Maenon crouched down at the edge of the stream and quickly speared a little flower floating in the water. As he twirled the stem in his hand a wide smirk played on his face.

*~ Got you, little Princess. Got you. ~*

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

After much good natured teasing to fill in the awkward pauses, Legolas and Galárin still tried to find a rhythm to their conversation. They had been friends for too long to fall back on simple pleasantries and inquiries about health, wealth and wisdom, but the familiarity that came from seeing it each other often was lacking.

Even before the quest, much of Legolas’ time was spent on patrols, reports and petitions. Any time left was given over to the myriad of needs of the Realm. There was not enough time for himself, let alone old friends. Especially friends who moved in completely different spheres than he.

After doing his mandatory service in Mirkwood’s forces and finding that he did not have the stomach or aptitude for such a job, Galárinhad become a cook in the Palace. Legolas had been most scandalised when he had heard of his friend’s decision but eventually, even he had to bow down and admit that Galárinwielding a spoon was a lot more effective than Galárinwielding a sword.

Besides, as Galárinpointed out, someone had to do the cooking – a most essential skill, even if the Prince disagreed. The day he had to go without his dinner he would learn to appreciate this fine art, Galárinhad told him. Legolas would admit privately that in Galárin’shands, cooking did become an art. It was no wonder that he had become head chef despite his tender age of a two hundred and fifty-five.

However, even though Legolas was proud of his once best friend, it meant that he hardly saw him. Galárin’s marriage to his assistant chef, Malyianhad meant that he had even less time for his liege Lord. Both elves had understood it, and before the Quest it had not mattered too much. They spoke once in while, and there was a comfort that the other was there. For Legolas, especially that ‘out of sight but not out of mind’ feeling was enough.

And then came the War, and the realisation that time, even for an immortal, was precious. Not only did it give Legolas the opportunity to make some new, dear friends, but it left him with the determination to renew old friendships as well.

Which is why Legolas was sitting in Galárin’s house, eating some wonderful, soft, crumbling, biscuit-like concoctions, feeling awfully awkward.

“So, my Lord – I mean Legolas,” Galárinhastily amended when he saw Legolas frown. Friends for almost all his life, and that frown still made him jump. “What brings you to my humble home?”

The words were jesting but Legolas chose to take them seriously and answered as such, “It has been too long since I spoke to you, my friend. I have missed you.” Legolas leant forward; chin coming to rest on his hand.

“Have you, my friend? Then the feeling is mutual.” Galárinsmiled at the blond elf. “I have heard of your heroic deeds.”

Legolas snorted, “I did what I had to – no more, no less.”

“You always do what you must. That is what makes you heroic.” Legolas opened his mouth, only to close it again. Galárinwas being serious. “I am proud of you, my Prince.”

Legolas could not help but blush at the compliment.

“I never thought I would live to see the day the great Prince blushed.” Both Galárinand Malyianlaughed even harder when Legolas’ face became even more crimson.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“ …. And then naturally, King Elesser got his fondest wish and married his Princess,” Legolas finished his tale with a flourish.

Malyiansighed, “You make it sound like such a romantic tale.”

“I suppose it was, thought at the time I was more concerned about keeping myself in one piece and getting home.”

“Is it true that the dwarf saved your life?”

“Lord Gimli, who happens to be one of my dearest friends, did indeed save my life. But then I saved his, too, so I guess we are even.”

“You always had the strangest choice in friends.”

“Yes, that is what people tell me when I tell them of you. A Prince and a Cook – imagine the horror.”

“Yes, imagine. An honest, hard-working elf who had never crossed anyone in his life, and a conniving, scheming, upstart Prince.”

“I resent that. I am no upstart.”

“But scheming and conniving?”

“Oh that I am – most definitely. Along with calculating, devious, manipulative, cunning and all other synonyms you can think of.”

“Such immodesty, hir nín. How do you live with yourself?”                    

“Easily.”

And that is how it went. Naturally, Galárincould not let Legolas’ ego go un-punctured and neither could Legolas allow Galárinto get away with his rudeness. Neither elf realised how much their voices had risen until a cross Malyianasked them to keep it down.

“Do remember where you are. You will wake the baby.”

“Baby?” Legolas asked in puzzlement.

“Yes, our daughter.” Seeing Legolas’ confusion Malyianadded, “You did know that we had a child?”

Legolas was ashamed to admit that he did not. “How old is she?”

“She is almost four months old.”

“Four months – that would mean you decided to have her …” Legolas trailed off as it hit him how out of touch he had been with Galárin.

“We conceived her before you left for Imladris,” Galárinfinished a little sadly. This reminder on how distant Legolas had become was unwelcome. Galárindid not blame him, since he had been busy himself. A wife, and a new family demanded much of his attention. There just was not enough time for old relationships. Legolas was always busy and after a while, it just became too much of a bother to try to adjust to his schedule.

“I do not know what to say.” Legolas fell silent. Galárinhad a child. How times had changed.

“You could congratulate us,” Malyiansaid gently. Time passed and things changed. These were the only constants in life. What use to cry over such inevitability?

“Yes, of course. I am very happy for both of you,” Legolas said hurriedly, words almost coming automatically. “Can … can I see her?”

“Of course. I need to check up on her anyway. Wait here.” Malyianwent inside, leaving Legolas on the edge of his seat – literally.

“She is a baby, not a new toy, Legolas.”

Legolas waved the comment aside. “I cannot believe you are a father.”

“Neither can I sometimes. She is a miracle,” Galárinreplied fondly.

“Do you have any more surprises for me, or can I relax now?”

“Just wait there – I did have a new cake I wanted you to try.” Galárinhurried into the kitchen as well, leaving Legolas alone.

Legolas leaned back on the couch. Cake and children. A good combination.

Legolas looked up as he heard two sets of steps enter the room. Galárin carried the biggest cake he had ever seen and Malyian carried the tiniest bundle. As she placed the child in his arms, and Galárin cut him a piece, Legolas thought that it was the best combination ever.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

There is something about babies that makes even the most sensible person act like a fool. Legolas proved no exception to this rule as he made a complete fool of himself playing with the little elfling. Galárin and Malyian watched with fond bemusement as their Prince made bizarre noises and faces to make their child laugh. They had seen all of this before with countless other elves, but it still managed to surprise and entertain them.

Malyian laughed when Legolas screwed up his face. “You should have children soon, hir nín, before you ruin your face irrevocably.”

Legolas immediately froze. “Children? Me?”

“Why ever not? You obviously love them,” Malyian faltered when she saw Legolas’ face fall. “Do you not want children of your own?”

Legolas shook his head, not wanting to answer and at the same time, desperately wanting to scream ‘yes’. The idea caught him unaware but he was surprised and not a little worried at how much it appealed to him. He wanted children to call his own, only his own. Perhaps that was normal enough for an elf in his position. But what shocked him was that he wanted Rhinure to have his children.

He could picture it with a frightening clarity – Rhinure heavy with his child, her slender body rounded with life. His child, a piece of him mixed permanently with her. A piece of him that he would have to probably leave behind.

That thought shook him out of his dreams and back to unforgiving reality. He could not have children now because he did not think Rhinure would agree to it. If it really came down to it, he would not ask her. When he could not even talk to her about what he felt, how could he ask her to carry his child – no matter how much he wanted her to.

She would be beautiful in pregnancy, Legolas was sure of it. She would have to open up to him in order to support their child. Their fëa would intertwine and mingle as their bodies did, breathing new life into this world. Just the thought of it made Legolas tremble with excitement.

They could share so much if they decided to give birth – nothing would be hidden from the other. Not even the Sea Longing. Legolas frowned as he thought about his conversation with Thranduil. If Rhinure did not sail and they had a child, would he take it with him? Would he deprive his flesh and blood of his or her’s mother?

He could not – but neither could he leave his child behind as he sailed to the West. His heart would never allow it. To rob an elfling of his father was almost as bad to rip him from his mother. Either way he would be hurt.

The heartbreaking fact was that there was no place for a child in Legolas’ life at the moment. His marriage was hardly perfect, barely bordering on happy, and even if it was, Legolas’ own situation would not allow him to take on such sought after responsibility.

“My Lord?” Galárin asked worriedly when Legolas did not answer his wife’s question.

“I am sorry. I just drifted off,” Legolas smiled. “But in answer to your question, Malyian, I do not think this is the right time for me to have children.”

“Why ever not?” Malyian asked, shrugging off Galárin’s attempts to shush her.

“My wife and I … we do not want them.” Legolas prayed that Malyian would believe that not-so-little lie.

She did not. “Have you discussed it with your wife? I am sure she will be able to convince you in time to take such a step.”

Legolas smiled and Malyian was surprised to see the bitterness lurking in it. “My wife and I are not given to much discussion. I do not think we will contemplate such a step for a long time.” Legolas paused and then added, almost involuntarily, “If ever.”

“Oh, Legolas.” Malyian crouched in front of him, putting a sympathetic hand on his knee.

“Princess Rhinure and I share a most uncommon relationship. Let me just say that it is not ideal and leave it at that.”

“It will change with time. You just have to believe so.”

“Perhaps that it the problem – knowing what I know about us, my belief in it falters very often.”

Malyian and Galárin shared a meaningful look. They were unsure how to help their friend, who was obviously upset. Since they had so few marital problems of their own, they were not the best councillors in such a situation.

It was thankful that they were spared any further comment by a knock on their door.

Malyian rose, “I will see who that is.”

“My Lord.”

Legolas looked up to find a herald from the Palace standing before him. “Yes?”

“The King asks that you return. A messenger has arrived.”

Legolas rose, “As my King commands. Do you know who the messenger was from?”

“I believe he is from the Princess.”

Legolas stepped forward, but prevented himself from grabbing the herald. “The Princess has sent news?”

The herald too an unconscious step backwards, surprised by the intensity in his Prince’s question. “I cannot say for certain, my Lord. The King did not tell me. He only asked me to summon you.”

Legolas nodded and dismissed the elf. He turned to his friends and apologised for cutting the visit short. They replied that they understood and that he should go.

Legolas almost ran home.

Malyian watched him and turned to her husband, “His wife and he might not have that uncommon a relationship after all.”

“I think not. At the very least, Legolas has that husbandly impatience under his belt.”

“He reminded me of you when we were first married.”

“Meleth nín, I was never as extreme as Legolas was just now.”

“Yes, I recall. The Princess is very lucky,” Malyian winked at her husband and closed the door.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas was surprised to find his father missing from his library, for it seemed that Thranduil was perpetually working, always bent over his desk and hidden behind a tall stack of papers. He did not seem to do much else.

*~ Now where can he be? The day I need to find him badly is the day he decides to break from his routine. He is probably doing this on purpose. ~*

Legolas scanned the library as well, but with no luck. Thranduil had disappeared. And after summoning his son.

“Do you seek your father, my Lord?” said Arandur, entering the room to find a lost looking and not so serene Prince.

“Do you know where he is, Captain?”

“I do. If you would follow me. He is waiting for you in his chambers. When you did not show, he sent me to fetch you.”

“I had thought he would be in his study.”

“This late?”

“It had never stopped him before.”

“In that you are correct. You can take your father to task for misleading you, if you wish.”

Legolas glanced at the Captain quickly, uncertain whether Arandur was genuinely offering advice or teasing him. It was unfortunate that the Avari’s face was blank. “I think I will let it pass, Captain. Please lead on.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The fire roared though the heat was not needed. The light cheerfully illuminated the rooms, though he did not need it to see. A glass of mulled wine was clutched in his hand, though he drank it not.

Thranduil gazed into the fire, a piece of parchment on the desk in front of him. So, Rhinure was on her way back. She would be here by the next day, probably by the morning if his scouts were correct. She had slowed down her pace, obviously giving him time to prepare for her arrival.

Her arrival also meant that Maenon would be returning as well. Thranduil was confident that he would have the information with him. Maenon had never failed him yet and he was not about to now. By the end of tomorrow, if not sooner, he would know where his daughter had retreated to. He would know where Tirnen was, and knowing that he would eventually find out what the Avari hid from him. If Rhinure thought that Thranduil would not gather as much, or that he would let her get away with it, then she was a fool.

But she was no fool.

When Thranduil had chosen her for his son, he had been struck by her intelligence and how similar she was to Legolas in that respect. There was a shrewdness mixed with a surprising naiveté that had immediately reminded him of Legolas. For people in their positions, who had obviously seen so much, there was an innocence about them that attracted Thranduil. It had taken him a while to label it, but he believed it was a deep and abiding faith – faith in their respective people, faith in themselves, faith that doing the “right” thing was all that mattered.

It was that combination that had made Thranduil believe himself – believe that she could make his son happy, that together they could make something special out of their relationship. Thranduil would have insisted on the marriage as a means for the alliance anyway, but it gave his heart comfort that he was choosing well for his son.

As he rotated the stem of the glass in his hands, he wondered whether to tell Legolas about Maenon. Herenion had been adamant that lying to his son would only aggravate the problem. It was just that Thranduil did not see it as lying per se, he was protecting his son. Giving him the chance to make this marriage work. Giving Rhinure the chance to confide in her husband without being forced in it. One could call it a matter of faith as well. Faith that these two, even his daughter, despite seeming evidence to the contrary, wanted to make this marriage work. Eventually, given time and a little help, they would find their own way. That was all that Thranduil was doing – giving them a little help.

Yes, if he kept telling himself that he could probably ignore the risk he took. If Rhinure did not tell Legolas herself, if he found out about Thranduil’s directives from someone else, if he found out from Thranduil himself – so many ‘ifs’ and all led to disaster. Legolas would not be happy about this.

Thranduil smiled wryly – such understatement.

This was one of those times that Thranduil hoped Legolas would act more like his mother and not like his more volatile sire.

Thranduil raised his head when he heard his son enter. Legolas was excited, happy almost. It was not hard to tell, the younger elf was smiling and there was a bounce in his step that had been missing for a while.

“You seem happy, ion nín.” Thranduil invited Legolas to sit next to him, and poured him a glass of wine.

“I suppose I am, Ada.” Legolas sat down and waited patiently for about two minutes before asking, “Did she send a letter?”

Thranduil shook his head, heart wrenching as Legolas lost some of his sparkle.

“But she is coming?”

“She will be here tomorrow.”

Legolas leaned back, unable to keep the silly grin off his face. After such a long time – almost a month – Rhinure was coming home. He knew rationally that his problems still existed and that having her back would not solve everything but he could not help but be excited. Her leaving had created this pressure that had just exploded. Legolas was thankful that it had exploded as happiness, and not something more painful.

Thranduil watched his son and he knew that he could not tell his son about the spied he had watching Rhinure. He just could not. Let him have this joy, this anticipation. There would be time enough for affairs of the Realm. Let his son take precedence to the Prince for once.

There would be time to deal with the crueller truths of this marriage.

There would be time – let Legolas have this moment.

Thranduil smiled at his son and refilled his glass.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Another chapter done – phew.

I have decided that I am going to break this story into two. This part is coming to an end very soon and I will start a sequel for it. If only because the size of the whole thing is becoming too big.