Chapter Ten: All the Shadow Leaves Behind

Galithil followed Galudiron silently towards the body of another dead orc. Galithil picked up the orc's sword, while the guard bent over the body to strip off its metal helm and chest plate. Galudiron started to stand, but then hesitated and bent down over the orc again.

"This one has a nice knife too," he said pulling it from under the orc's arm and holding it up for Galithil to see.

Galithil nodded and tried to smile a little as Galudiron handed him the knife. They walked back to the center of the village where each tossed the items they had salvaged from the orc's body into their respective piles of weapons or armor.  Then they went back to the orc. Galithil picked up one of its feet and Galudiron the other. They dragged it just outside the boundaries of the village, near the midden, and heaved it onto an ever-growing mound of bodies. As he had dozens of times already, Galithil grimaced slightly as the orc thumped against the bodies of its dead comrades while settling on the pile. The sound was somewhat sickening.

Galudiron looked about for another orc. There were not many left. They had been doing this most of the afternoon.

Without looking up, Galithil pointed towards one he had seen as they were dragging the last orc.

"Right. That one next, then," Galudiron said, marching off towards it.

Galithil tried to suppress a sigh as he followed the guard. Under normal circumstances, he would be thrilled to be permitted to help with this task. It was an important one; it was a warrior's duty; and he was getting the opportunity to handle weapons unlike any he had ever imagined. Indeed, when Dolgailon had sent him off with Galudiron, Galithil did experience a few moments of pleasure, but the feeling quickly faded to be replaced with the dull, emptiness that had settled over him shortly after the terror of the battle had lessened. Now Galudiron's attempts to be cheerful only seemed mildly annoying, which Galithil tried very hard not to show, because he knew the guard was only trying to make him feel better. Galithil doubted he ever would feel anything again and that was not necessarily a bad thing--indeed he almost hoped he would not. Blankness was much better than almost paralyzing grief or guilt, and Galithil certainly felt both of those if he stopped to think about everything that had happened even for a moment.

Just before they reached the orc, Galudiron stopped and looked at the main path leading into the village. When Galithil registered that the guard was no longer along side him, he looked back at him, trying to figure out why he had stopped. He followed Galudiron's gaze to the path and stared at it a long moment before he realized he heard the sound of horses approaching fast. Before he had time to process what that could mean, Thranduil and Conuiön emerged from the forest and rode into the village.

For a moment, Galithil only stared at his uncle. As he did, one of the officers that had fought with Dolgailon strode towards the path to greet the King. Thranduil and Conuiön jumped down from their horses and Conuiön spoke to the officer briefly, but Thranduil only scanned the village. When his gaze fell on Galithil, open relief flooded his face and, without a word, he started off towards his nephew.

As soon as Thranduil saw him, Galithil's heart began to pound. At first, Galithil thought he was reacting to how much trouble he must certainly be in. But, he realized, he did not even care how much trouble he was in. He simply did not want to face his uncle knowing what he was responsible for causing. So, when Thranduil reached him and pulled him into an embrace, Galithil found himself, for at least the hundredth time since the battle, struggling not to openly sob in a mixture of guilt and relief. His uncle must have noticed his deep breaths, because the embrace grew even stronger.

"Where is Dolgailon?" Thranduil asked, his voice muffled by the way Galithil was pressed against the soft fabric of his uncle's tunic.

"The last time I saw him, he was in one of the villager's cottages speaking with the lieutenants that fought with us," Galudiron responded.

"The last time you saw him?" Conuiön repeated with a tone of voice that made Galithil flinch. He did not want his brother's guard to be in trouble with his captain and he knew Conuiön would not tolerate for a moment hearing that Galudiron did not even know where his charge was.

"This is not the time, Conuiön," Thranduil intervened. "As long as Dolgailon is uninjured, that is all that matters at the moment."

Then Galithil felt his uncle tense slightly.

"And Legolas? Is he here also?" Thranduil asked.

Galithil pressed his face harder against Thranduil's tunic and closed his eyes even tighter, imagining how his uncle was going to react when he found out that Legolas had been shot with a poisoned arrow.

"He is in the talan with the village healer along with Anastor and Noruil," Galudiron responded.

Thranduil let out a long breath. Before Galudiron could say anything more, Thranduil stepped back, grasping Galithil by the shoulders and pulling him to arm's length to look him over in much the same way Dolgailon had done immediately after the battle had ended.

Galithil looked at his feet. "I am not injured, uncle," he said.

"Thank the Valar. Now what in all of Arda are you doing here with Galudiron?" Thranduil asked.

Galithil opened his mouth to explain why he had followed Anastor and Noruil to the village, but then he saw his uncle was looking at the orc a few feet to their left and he was not sure if that was what his uncle was asking about.

"Why are you not in the talan with your cousin and friends?" Thranduil continued.

Galithil stared dumbly at his uncle. He was not in the talan because he did not want to cry in front of Anastor. He was not in the talan because he couldn't bear to look at the wounds Legolas and Tulus had. He was not in the talan because sitting still gave him nothing to do but think. He had no idea how to begin to explain any of those things.

"We are disposing of the orcs," Galudiron answered when Galithil remained silent.

Thranduil frowned severely at that. "How could you possibly think that would be an appropriate activity for children?"

"Dolgailon thought..." Galudiron began. Then he stopped and appeared to search for some way to phrase what he wanted to say before trying again. "It needs to be done...Galithil needs something to do..." He drifted off again, struggling to find a way to explain.

"Dolgailon and Galudiron are trying to distract me from thinking about adar," Galithil interjected. Then he pulled his lower lip between his teeth and closed his eyes when grief flooded his uncle's expression.

"So it is true," Thranduil almost whispered. "Aradunnon was killed?"

Galudiron must have nodded because Thranduil pulled Galithil against him again, wrapping his arms about him. This time Galithil could not entirely stifle a sob.

"I am so sorry, Galithil," Thranduil whispered.

Galithil was shocked to feel his uncle taking long, calming breaths just as he was doing. Surely Thranduil was not going to cry. 'Of course he is,' Galithil thought, holding his breath, clenching his jaw and tightening his throat to keep silent. 'Ada was Uncle's brother. I would cry if I lost Dolgailon--that would be every bit as bad as losing Ada. And uncle Thranduil has already lost so much family.' Galithil's face screwed up even more at this thought.

"Come, Galithil," Thranduil said softly. "Let us go find some place more private." Still holding Galithil against him, Thranduil started walking slowly towards the flets and cottages.

At that moment, Galithil wanted nothing more than to go with his uncle and tell him all that had happened and all that he had seen. Thranduil would understand how Galithil felt, he suddenly realized--Thranduil had seen his own father die. And Galithil wanted to beg his uncle's forgiveness for causing it all. He was sure Thranduil would tell him he was forgiven--Thranduil always forgave Legolas and Galithil and Berior for doing stupid things if they appeared truly sorry. This time, Galithil did not even have to pretend to be sorry. He was sorrier than he had ever been in his whole life for anything. And he hoped so much that if Thranduil forgave him, it might take away even just a little of the guilt that he felt. Even if it did not, Galithil needed Thranduil's arms around him at this moment more than he could have ever imagined needing an adult's comfort.

Then Galithil remembered Legolas might need Thranduil himself. He stopped, pulled away from his uncle and looked up at him, quickly wiping tears from his cheeks as he did. "You have to go see Legolas," Galithil said. "He was shot by an orc."

Galithil was immediately sorry he had spoken so bluntly as he watched all the color drain from his uncle's face.

"What?" was all Thranduil managed to say in response.

"It is not a serious wound," Galudiron interjected quickly. "Only a flesh wound."

"The orcs I pursued were using poisoned arrows," Thranduil said, turning to the guard.

"So were these," Galudiron admitted. "The wound was poisoned, but apparently Dolwon and Dannenion brought a large supply of yarrow south with them, so the southern patrol was prepared to treat such injuries. The healer said Legolas is fine. They even managed to save Tulus, since they had the yarrow immediately at hand."

"Tulus?" Thranduil asked.

Galudiron nodded. "His wound was considerably more serious. The arrow that hit him went through here," he said, pointing to a spot on his side above his hip. "Even Colloth might survive, though the healer is not certain yet. He was struck on the shoulder by an orc's sword, also poisoned, but in his case the danger was not so much from the bleeding, since the yarrow cured that, but rather from the damage done to the bones in his shoulder cleaved by the sword."

"Colloth killed the first of the two orcs charging at ada," Galithil explained when Thranduil only stared at Galudiron, "but the second orc got Colloth on the shoulder and it got ada..."  he said, making a slicing motion across his side. His brow furrowed as his voice trailed off. "The arrow that hit Tulus would have hit Legolas, except Tulus stepped in front of him and shoved him aside," Galithil added, trying again, and only partially succeeding, to speak with a strong voice. "So the arrow only grazed Legolas when it came out..." he trailed off again, not certain how to describe that grotesque sight.

"You saw this happen?" Thranduil asked. His eyes were again filled with grief and concern that made a flood of emotions rise in Galithil's throat.

Galithil only nodded.

Thranduil closed his eyes briefly and whispered something, Galithil could not tell what. When he opened them again, he put his arm around Galithil's shoulders and steered him towards the flets. "Enough of this," he said quietly. "Come with me to see Legolas and then we will find a way to get you and Legolas home. Anastor and Noruil as well, if their parents wish."

Galithil did not resist as his uncle led him off to the flet where the healer was treating the wounded, though he would have liked to. He was certain he would rather continue disposing of the orcs than see Legolas with his father. That uncharitable thought made Galithil cringe inwardly and straighten his back in an effort to be strong. Legolas had paid enough for Galithil's stupidity--Galithil was certainly glad he still had a father to comfort him.

"Find Dolgailon and send him to me, "Thranduil said to Galudiron as they walked away. "I have something I need to tell him."

*~*~*

Legolas shifted, trying to find a a more comfortable position on the hard cot he was propped up on, while trying to avoid jostling his wound. The memory of Galithil telling him that wounds themselves are not nearly as painful as their treatment drifted into his mind and he laughed bitterly. Galithil had told him that after being gored by a boar and having the wound cleaned and stitched by Nestoreth. Legolas remembered not quite believing that a few stitches hurt more than the nasty jab the boar had given Galithil with its tusk. Now he believed it. Legolas had not even noticed the arrow cutting him, but he would not soon forget the stitches the healer gave him.

Legolas glanced over at his cousin, sitting on the floor of the flet, leaning against the cot. Anastor and Noruil sat next to him. All were silent. In the back of the room, Thranduil was speaking quietly with the village leader, Selwon. This was his flet. He had offered to let Thranduil, Dolgailon and the children stay in it until they were ready to return to the capital. Legolas could hear enough of his father's conversation to know he was speaking with Selwon about moving the village and he knew from his father's expression that the conversation was not going as Thranduil wished.

"The forest needs our presence to resist the Shadow," Selwon was arguing.

Legolas looked at the withered tree that supported the flet. If there were trees in the Halls of Mandos, Legolas imagined they probably looked like this. If trees could flee to Mandos, this one looked ready to do so. None of the others in the village looked any better. But they did have a few green leaves and Legolas knew from his lessons and from listening to the warriors tell stories that the trees further to the south were completely dead--just black trunks and rotting, bare branches. If the elves' presence managed to preserve even this sad state, Legolas found himself agreeing with Selwon that they should stay. The forest in the south made his heart twist in grief. It made him feel physically ill to see it so damaged, knowing it once had been as green as the forest near the stronghold.

"Thranduil should not argue with Selwon," Anastor said, not bothering to lower his voice. "If he and the people in his village are willing to stay and fight for the forest, Thranduil should be glad rather than arguing to persuade him differently."

Legolas's brow furrowed. He knew Anastor was only repeating what he had heard his father say a hundred times before. The problem was every time Legolas had heard anyone in Anastor's family say such things before, he was certain they were wrong. Now that he was here in the South surrounded by the mournful forest, Legolas found himself agreeing with Anastor. And that was simply unthinkable.

"The villagers do not know how to fight for the forest, Anastor," Galithil replied. Legolas looked at his cousin sharply. His tone did not hold nearly the level of irritation it usually did for these types of arguments with Anastor. He wondered if Galithil might be thinking the same thing he was. "If the villagers stay here, more warriors than even exist would be needed to protect them."

"The villagers can all learn to fight then," Anastor argued back. "They looked as if they could hold their own when they were fighting the orcs earlier."

"Then they would not be villagers. They would all be warriors," Noruil said, making the argument Galithil normally would. "Now that I have seen it here, I agree with Thranduil. There is nothing here to protect. The trees only a few hours north of here were healthier. Better to protect that part of the forest. This part is lost."

Legolas watched as Anastor glared at his cousin, stood, turned his back to him and walked out onto the balcony of the flet.. Noruil scowled in response, crossed his arms over his chest and stalked across the room to inspect the arrows in his quiver. Legolas looked again at the tree and listened to its mournful song. His heart went out to it as it would to any wounded, helpless creature.

Trying to distract himself, Legolas looked over at his cousin. Since his one contribution to the argument, Galithil had not appeared to hear any more of it. He was again staring at Thanduil speaking to Selwon.

"I wonder how angry adar will be once he gets over being relieved that we are not badly hurt," Legolas said.

Galithil did not respond. He did not even seem to hear him.

"We might really be restricted to our rooms until we come of age this time," Legolas added, referring to the punishment they always joked that truly bad misbehavior might earn them. Traveling two days south when they knew there was a particularly serious risk of danger certainly constituted truly bad misbehavior.

Again, Galithil did not respond.

Legolas's brows drew together sharply and he nudged his cousin none too gently with his foot. "Why did you do it, Galithil? Why did you have to follow Anastor and Noruil south? You knew it was dangerous. You knew our adars were coming here to investigate the presence of a servant of the Evil One that destroyed an entire kingdom. You said yourself that Anastor and Noruil were stupid to go. What could have possibly compelled you to follow them?"

Galithil responded to this direct question by closing his eyes. He remained silent for so long that Legolas thought he would not answer him. But, finally, he looked at Legolas and spoke.

"Before he and uncle Thranduil went south, I told Ada that I wanted to go to help move the village," he began in a soft voice. "And Ada told me that I did not want to help--I wanted to go for the adventure of it. He said I should think about why I wanted to do things and make the choices that best served the realm." He fell quiet for a moment and looked down. "I did not come here for adventure. I wanted to, but I knew Adar would be furious. And I did not follow him because Anastor called me a coward--though I think Dolgailon thinks that is why I went. I went because I wanted to know what Dannenion and Dolwon did so I would understand why Adar thought Maidhien was so unacceptable." His voice grew even quieter. "I told myself that I was doing it for the realm--because I do love Maidhien and I want to know why she cannot be part of the King's family. But I see now that I did it for myself, because I love her, regardless of what that means for the realm, and I wanted to be able to prove to Adar that she was acceptable regardless of what her parents did. Maybe I did not even do it for Maidhien--maybe I did it just because I wanted to know what Dannenion and Dolwon did, just to know it. I am not even sure. But I do know that I did not do what Adar asked me to do. I did what suited me, and you paid for it, Tulus paid for it, Colloth paid for it...and Adar paid for it with his life."

Legolas stared at his cousin, stunned into silence. Galithil thought he was at fault for everyone's injuries and, worse still, his father's death! And he came because he want to know what Dolwon and Dannenion did!

Legolas quietly muttered a word he had heard one of the warriors say when the healer was cleaning his wound. That caused Galithil to look back at him in surprise. "If I had known the morning that you left that you intended to follow Anastor and Noruil to find out what their parents had done, I would have taken you straight to uncle Hallion. He would have told you." Legolas loosed a short breath. "If I had known you would follow Anastor and Noruil to find this out, I would have broken my word to ada and told you myself. I am so sorry I did not."

Galithil closed his eyes and shook his head. "It is not your fault. You did the right thing. I really wish you had not followed me though. I cannot tell you how sorry I am that you and Tulus and Colloth are all hurt."

Legolas frowned and pushed himself up away from the bedroll he was propped up against. Leaning on one arm, he put the other around his cousin's shoulders. "It is not your fault, Galithil," he said, pulling him into an embrace. "I should not have said anything. I do not want to make it worse.... I wish there was something I could do...."

"So do I," Galithil said and to Legolas's horror, a tear slid down his cousin's cheek. "I would do anything to make it all never happen."

Legolas did not know what to do except hold his cousin as he cried.

*~*~*

Thranduil sat idly picking at the plate of venison and greens that Selwon's wife had brought him. He should be eating but instead he was watching Legolas and Galithil sleep. Every time his gaze fell upon the bandage on his son's side Thranduil felt his chest tighten with a mixture of terror and rage. That an orc had been close enough to his son to inflict such an injury! Thranduil's fist clenched. From every account of the incident he had heard, if Tulus had not been present, Legolas would have.... Thranduil could not even make himself finish the thought and he resisted the urge to go over to his son and gather him in his arms only with great effort. Legolas needed to sleep and so did Galithil. Disturbing them would be selfish.

Thranduil studied his nephew. He had been outraged when he found Galithil and Galudiron dragging the orcs' bodies to be burned earlier. Now he understood why Dolgailon had set his younger brother to this task. Galithil's hold on the world was obviously very precarious. Thranduil had not heard the child say ten words all afternoon. He had pushed the food brought to him around on his plate, refusing to eat even after being reminded that food in the villages could not be wasted. And he looked simply drained of life. Thranduil understood that all too well.

The sound of footsteps on the flet's balcony made Thranduil turn his attention to the door. It opened, revealing Dolgailon. At some point during the day, Dolgailon had obviously discarded his tunic. He was now only wearing the shirt that would normally be under it. The shirt had brownish splotches in some spots and black ones in others where blood had seeped through the tunic and stained it. He had a bandage, clearly hastily tied in place, around one arm. And though he was trying to walk purposefully into the room, his feet dragged along the floor. Despite his best efforts, Dolgailon appeared completely worn out to Thranduil's eyes.

"I beg your pardon, my lord, for not coming sooner. I was trying to make sure the orcs we drove north were defeated on all fronts and that the warriors Adar and I led here were properly accounted for and redistributed according to Ostarndor's orders. And I took the liberty of sending some messengers east to make sure the warriors that accompanied Celonhael and Golwon to that border did not meet with equally strong forces orcs--they were much less prepared than we were..."

Thranduil cut his oldest nephew's explanation short by standing, putting aside his plate and drawing Dolgailon into an embrace. As Galithil had done earlier, Dolgailon drew several quick, sharp breaths in response to the gesture. "I know what it is to lose a parent in battle, pen neth," Thranduil whispered. "And I know what it is to exhaust oneself trying to deny it has happened by burying oneself in duty."

"Does doing so eventually work?" Dolgailon asked with a shaky voice.

"Not in my experience," Thranduil replied as gently as he could. "I am so sorry, Dolgailon."

Dolgailon nodded, drew a long breath and stepped back. "Thank you, uncle. I know it is equally difficult for you to lose a brother." He glanced back at Galithil, still asleep next to his cousin. "I fear I may yet know that pain."

"Not if we can prevent it," Thranduil said firmly. "And we will do everything we can to do so." Then he placed a hand on Dolgailon's shoulder. "Come sit with me, pen neth. I am afraid I have more...well, well frankly terrible news that I must give you from your Adar's village."

Dolgailon did not move, but his eyes did fill with fear. "Not Nana," he whispered.

Thranduil looked at his nephew steadily and nodded. "I am sorry, Dolgailon," he repeated.

Dolgailon's whole countenance seemed to wilt and Thranduil found himself supporting his nephew as he half-staggered, half-fell towards the chair Thranduil had been seated in. "How? Did she fight or was the village that badly overrun?"

"She fought," Thranduil answered. "She was hit by an arrow." Thranduil hesitated and then continued. Dolgailon would learn this eventually--better he learn it from him. "It was not a mortal wound, Dolgailon. Lindomiel said she appeared to fade and she did not understand why. Of course, I know now why she faded."

"She could not survive ada's death, even for Galithil's sake?" Dolgailon blurted. Then he winced and waved his hand in the air as if to erase his words. "I should not say... I mean, I have no idea how I would feel if Arthiel...." He frowned. "But daernaneth survived when your adar...." Again Dolgialon waved his hand. "Sorry. I did not mean to..." Shaking his head, Dolgailon fell silent.

"Nana was very close to fading, even when Aradunnon and I returned from the war seven years later," Thranduil said quietly. "I suppose one never knows how one will respond to such a shock, and to receive it and a wound at the same time. It was obviously more than she could bear."

Dolgailon drew a deep breath. "I am not surprised. I had been telling myself all day it was only because of Ada's loss that I was in shock and could not feel Nana's presence. But I knew I was lying to myself. I knew...." He looked again at his brother. "Have you told Galithil?"

Thranduil shook his head. "I wanted make sure you knew first. If you can manage it, it might be best if we tell him together. So he can have all the support available." When Dolgailon immediately put on a brave face and nodded, Thranduil smiled sadly at his nephew's strength.

"Of course that is the best thing to do," Dolgailon said, still looking at his little brother. "We can tell him in the morning." He looked back at Thranduil. "And is someone taking him home? Can you take him home? He needs family, not just guards as an escort...."

"I am taking all of our family home, Dolgailon. You included. We are going to your Adar's village tomorrow to get Lindomiel and then we are going home." He held up his hand. "No arguments. Ostarndor is the captain of the Southern Patrol and he will manage now that so many of the orcs are destroyed. I need you in the stronghold. And I need your help with your brother."

Dolgailon frowned, but as Thranduil expected, did not argue.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Pen neth -- young one