Thirty-two

Lancaeriel meandered alongside the rocky stream. All around her, the trees rustled in the breeze and their voices called out to her. She smiled.

Ithilien was a lovely place. The land had gone long without the touch of elves upon it, and she had felt truly welcomed by the land itself when she had come here.

The elves of the colony had done much work in the years since they had first arrived, but there were still many places that needed work, needed special encouragement to grow tall, green and beautiful.

But here, the lands closely surrounding Asgarnen, the plants were healthy and whole and simply rejoiced to be alive.

As she rounded a bend in the brook, Lancaeriel stopped as her gaze alighted upon a tall, dark-haired elf, up to his thighs in the bubbling water, casting a fishing line out and under some overhanging trees. His back was to her, so she sat upon a large rock where she could watch him fish for trout.

Anthir, her brother, had loved to fish for trout. Lancaeriel had tried her hand at it a few times, but failed miserably. There was some skill involved in catching fish in this manner, and Lancaeriel did not have it. But since she had moved to Asgarnen and discovered Tathar's favorite past time was trout fishing, she had made an effort to ask him questions and, whenever possible, watch him fish.

Preferably unobserved, as he seemed to get flustered when he knew she was watching him fish. He would get fidgety, and that would affect his fishing, and that would make him cranky, but then he would feel guilty and—

Lancaeriel sighed inwardly. Tathar was not always an easy person to be around. He was quiet and reserved, solemn and exacting, and completely devoted to serving his lord. He enjoyed such things as paperwork and researching trade agreements. He liked talking to ambassadors and was very good at political matters that confused her. He took his duties seriously, and did everything with a precision that she found impressive.

All those traits had earned him a reputation in the colony for being stern and, well, boring. But she had found that he was not so stuffy that he could not take a joke, or give one back in return. He just did not do so often.

He was nothing like Legolas. And maybe that was why he had such a reputation. Legolas was vibrant, bold, quick to smile and— well, he was those things when the shadow did not heavily darken his eyes. She found it interesting that two such very different men could be such close friends.

Lancaeriel thought Tathar was many things, but boring was not one of them. She had discovered in the weeks since her arrival that beneath the proper Lord Warden was a simple but pleasant man with a distinct sense of humor, and a love for trout fishing.

And her, it would seem.

Lancaeriel was very aware of Tathar's interest in her as a woman, but while she enjoyed his company, she did not return the feeling. Nor was she in any hurry to attach herself to anyone in such a manner. Everything was still so new, and she was still struggling to make new friends and find her own place in the community. Those things took time, and she had only been here a few weeks.

But in that short time, Ithilien was fast becoming home to her, for there was life here, tree song and hope. Some of the women had reached out to her, befriending her, and she felt happy, for the most part. Her grief was fading as she involved herself in the task of living.

The sun shone down through the trees, drenching her in its warmth. She stretched her arms upwards, her fingers wiggling in the rays, then her eyes widened as her movement must have startled Tathar, for he started suddenly and lost his footing on the slippery rocks.

He let out a yelp and flailed a moment, but could not recover his balance, being in mid-cast with his rod. With a splash, he plopped onto his back in the chilly water, drenching himself from head to foot.

Lancaeriel could not help herself. She began to laugh, though she covered her mouth with a hand to help hide it. Part of her was ashamed at her laughter, for he could be hurt. But the sight had been so funny, she could not stop giggling!

Tathar turned a glare upon her, the first she had seen turned her direction, then slowly got back to his feet. His eyes never left her as he stalked towards the bank and stood dripping before her.

"You find this funny, my lady?" he asked, drawing out the 'lady' as he frowned down upon her.

Completely taken with her mirth, she ignored the term. "Not at all, my Lord Warden," she told him, trying to manage a serious expression, and failing as her lips kept twitching back into a smile. "I find it hysterical!" She laughed again. "I have never seen an elf land so gracefully in a brook before!"

Then he did something so uncharacteristic of Tathar. He shook his head like a wet dog, and she shrieked the water droplets pelted her with their coldness.

"I doubt few manage it," he told her with a wide smile of his own. Then, he sat down beside her on the rock.

"I am sorry I startled you," Lancaeriel told him. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he assured her. "Nothing except my pride." He quirked up a brow at her. "Watching me fish?"

She nodded. "I really wish to learn. My brother was good at it, and my father, but I just cannot seem to get the motion right to interest the trout."

A sudden flash of gold in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned her head towards it, but there was nothing there.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes scanning the forest along with hers.

"I thought I saw something. Must have been a bird, because now it is gone." She turned back to him. "So, will you teach me?"

The slow smile that stretched his face assured her that he would.

— o —

Legolas peeked back around the trunk of the tree and watched his friends with interest. He was proud of Lancaeriel and her efforts since arriving in Ithilien. She had made a big effort to befriend others, and already had made several friends. In just the few weeks since their arrival, he had seen her go from shy and hesitant to the confident person he had caught glimpses of underneath her pain and grief during their trials up north.

Even now, she spoke easily with Tathar, laughing and asking questions about fishing.

And Tathar sat with shining eyes fixed upon the woman at his side, more animated than Legolas had seen him since they had been children.

Poor Tathar.

Ever since his friend had first laid eyes upon Lancaeriel, Tathar had been quite taken with her. But while Lancaeriel seemed to enjoy Tathar's company, she gave him no encouragement beyond friendship. And Legolas was left to be amused at his serious friend being so enamored.

He would wish Tathar well in his pursuit of Lancaeriel's heart, but Legolas had no wish to lose the close friendship he was forming with her. Besides, with her brother and father lost to her, Legolas found himself feeling a bit protective. If Tathar's pursuit made her uncomfortable, Legolas would step in and put a stop to it, but until that time, he left them to what until today had been something of an awkward friendship.

He turned back towards home, and quickened his pace as the trees sent whispers of visitors. He was expecting Aragorn, for the king had sent word he wished to discuss the latest report on the feladroe, and there were some trade agreements that needed to be worked out.

Flimsy excuses for a visit, Legolas thought.

He arrived back at the settlement just as a horn sounded. Up the path rode a small contingent of guards, and in their midst were two riders, one on a bright chestnut stallion, the other on a small brown pony.

Legolas smiled, surprised at the addition, and stepped forward as the two broke from the guards and trotted towards him. He bowed to the King. "Welcome to Asgarnen, my lord," he told Aragorn, then cast a glance at the dwarf. "You could have warned me that you were bringing additional baggage."

Gimli grunted in indignation, but Legolas saw the glint of humor in his eye.

"Ah, well, the baggage insisted upon joining me, and who am I to refuse such an ally when traveling?" the man responded, giving Legolas a look which caused his a chill of apprehension to run down his spine.

Why did he suddenly feel that there was far more to this visit than even he had suspected? When Legolas had received the king's missive, he had assumed the excuse of trade agreements and the wildlife of Ithilien meant Aragorn wished to do some hunting. Such had been circumstances in the past.

But now…

Legolas felt himself detach and retreat behind his formal role as lord and host. "I will show you to your rooms. I am sure you will wish to refresh yourselves after such a long trip," he clipped, watching the man and dwarf warily.

"He means we stink of sweat and horse, Aragorn, and being such a prissy elf, he refuses to visit with us until after we have bathed." Gimli chuckled, but held Legolas's gaze.

Legolas was not fooled by the jest. There was an ulterior motive to this visit or he would call himself an orc.

"Indeed!" Aragorn laughed. "Show the way then, and we shall make ourselves more to your liking. Afterwards, we will talk."

Talk? Surely, he means harass the elf about something which is none of their business, Legolas thought, but he nodded and led the way to his dwelling.

Many who had visited Asgarnen had marveled at Legolas's abode and considered it the most interesting aspect of the elven settlement. It consisted of two very different elements. The first was the cliff wall that made up one edge of the border of the settlement. In it were many caverns that Gimli and his people had fashioned into magnificent rooms, which served as a formal hall as well as guest lodgings.

And Gimli had refused to stay in the tree when Legolas had first settled here.

But Legolas preferred the trees, and in particular, a tall, spreading oak that grew close to the rock face and entrance to the caverns, like a sentinel keeping watch. He had made the tree his home, beginning with a simple talan in its branches, but over the three decades he had made Ithilien his home, changes and additions had been made until his home was now nearly as impressive as some of the telain in Lothlórien.

A winding stair encircled the tree, giving easy access to the talan above them. It had once only been reached by a rope ladder, which to Legolas's surprise had not kept Gimli on the ground. The dwarf had visited often enough and complained loud enough that Legolas had built the stair, which could be easily widened to accommodate the tree's growth without harm.

Waiting at the foot of the tree stood Erynion, Tathar's assistant. One corner of Legolas's mouth tilted up at the sight. It was just like Tathar to make sure Legolas had someone playing the role of servant with important guests arriving, especially since he was off enjoying Lancaeriel's company. Tathar would never let go of the formality he had learned in Thranduil's court as son of one of the Elvenking's top advisors.

"Erynion, has hot water been sent up?"

Erynion inclined his head. "As well as a skin of Dorwinion, my lord."

A throat was cleared gruffly behind them. Legolas did not even need to ask what it meant.

"We received a cask of dwarven ale not that long ago. See that a flagon is brought up as well."

"At once, my lord." Erynion spun away and strode towards the storehouse to do as he was bid.

Legolas turned a small smile on his friends and gestured for them to proceed him up the stair. They did so in silence, and he felt another frisson of apprehension shudder through him. The lack of talk unnerved him, being unnatural between them, but he showed no outward sign of his trepidation as they ascended.

His mind searched for what they might wish to say to him, for his instincts screamed that an intimate heart to heart talk was coming, and Legolas was certain he would not enjoy it in the least. But the only topic he could come up with that they might wish to berate him for were his actions surrounding his previous trip to Eryn Lasgalen.

But Legolas had already discussed the issue at length with both man and dwarf privately, and he had thought himself forgiven for his foolish behavior. So what else needed to be said? It must be serious if Gimli had felt a need to come along.

When they reached the main floor of the talan, Legolas slipped past his guests and opened the door, entering his home, which his father had once described as "a keep in the top of a tree". Legolas's personal chambers encompassed the entire upper level, but the main floor consisted of a large, open room, which served as a informal hall for eating and a few guest rooms. Even Gimli had begun to take lodging in the tree when he visited, something Legolas had thought would never happen with the fine caves below.

Inside, his eyes caressed the tapestries woven of familiar woodland scenes, and in particular, one of a herd of white deer. It had been in his mother's chambers, and his father had gifted it to Legolas when he reached his majority. In the center of the room set a large table with benches along either side. The room was supposed to be used for dining with his guests, but he had used it seldom. Most often, he and his visitors joined the elves of Asgarnen in the community meals in a small glen designated for that purpose.

The guest rooms were along the back wall, and Legolas gestured to the two that Aragorn and Gimli used when staying in Asgarnen. "Please, refresh yourselves, and join me upstairs when you are ready."

The man and dwarf nodded and entered their rooms, while Legolas went to the stair in the corner and trod up them, his uneasiness growing at his friends' continued silence.

The upper floor was his haven, and he glanced around the large, open room, then frowned. Erynion had not opened the windows or doors that graced three of the four walls. The back wall contained a doorway which led to his bedchamber, a room which saw little use other than as a place to store his personal possessions.

But the other three had many windows, and he went to them, pushing open the shutters and letting in the light and fresh air. Then he strode to the double doors which led to a platform that much resembled the flets used by the patrols in his former home. He pushed them open and stepped out on the flet, glancing up into the branches of the oak and placing one hand on the bark of one bough.

He stood there until Erynion entered with the ale, setting it beside the wine and goblets on a table in the midst of several seats arranged before doors. Once Erynion had gone, Legolas poured himself some wine, then sat in his favorite chair.

Then he waited.

— o —

Aragorn made quick work of the travel grime and changed into fresh, comfortable clothing. He was officially here on affairs of state to discuss some trade agreements, and had asked to see the most recent dens of the cave lions that made Ithilien their home.

The large felines kept far from people for the most part, but on occasion, they clashed with the settlers or their livestock. The elves protected the feladroe, pointing out that balance was needed between prey and predators. The Men argued the creatures were dangerous and preyed upon their herds rather than the deer and elk. Aragorn, Legolas and Faramir had been working for years to find a solution to keeping harmony between the wildlife, the elves and the men who made Ithilien their home.

But all of that was an excuse to visit Asgarnen. Since their return from Eryn Lasgalen, Aragorn had felt the need to speak to Legolas about the shadows in the elf's eyes, and the epiphany he had had that day in Thranduil's halls, when he had watched the light and shadows play upon the walls of Legolas's room and had realized that he had lost his childhood friend to a darkness he had not understood.

But he understood it now.

It was time for Legolas to return to them. They could not cure Legolas of his sea longing — that would remain with the elf until he sailed — but he could help Legolas see past the darkness that the longing had brought upon him.

A knock sounded at his door, and he moved to open it, finding Gimli standing there, an intense look of concern upon his face.

"I am not sure this was a good idea, Aragorn. He knows this is not a simple visit or trade negotiation and he is wary and watchful." The dwarf's voice was hesitant and doubt was evident on his face. "Do you think he will listen? Perhaps, I should not have accompanied you for this talk…"

"No, Gimli," Aragorn reassured. "He needs us both, and he will listen, if I have to tie him to a chair to make him do so!"

Gimli's eyes flickered with an odd look that made Aragorn think the dwarf would enjoy such a feat.

Aragorn ignored the look and said, "This cannot continue. Have you not noticed how thin he is? How little life is in his eyes when you truly stop and look? He will listen and stop grieving and wallowing in sadness, or I shall knock him unconscious and put him on a ship heading west," Aragorn finished, his voice determined and his jaw set.

The dwarf's eyes dropped at his last statement, and he swallowed thickly. "I hope it does not come to that."

"So do I, my friend. So do I. But I do not think it will. Legolas is too stubborn to allow this to defeat him or let it keep him from fulfilling a promise. He simply needs some perspective on the matter, and I think I know how to give it to him. And I think it will help—"

"Then let us get it over with quickly," the dwarf interrupted and stepped away from the door. "I do not like this waiting," He paused and looked back at Aragorn. "He will not like us interfering…" Gimli reminded.

Aragorn blew out a mouthful of air in frustration, "I know, but what kind of friends would we be if we did nothing?" He watched the dwarf nod his head in acquiescence before heading towards Legolas's chambers.

He let Gimli take the lead, but he paused on the stairs. Was it too much to wish that Legolas would look past his stubborn pride and allow his friends to help him?

Hoping for the best, yet fearing the worst, Aragorn continued up the stairs.

He found Legolas and Gimli sitting across from each other in comfortable silence, a low table between them with wine and ale set upon it. The elf had a goblet of wine in his hand, while the dwarf was pouring himself a mug of ale. Gimli sat back on the settee, and took a long drag of his drink.

Aragorn picked up the wineskin and let some of its contents splash into his own goblet. As he did so, he considered where to sit. If he sat on the settee beside the dwarf, it could appear they were teaming up against Legolas and make him even more defensive. Instead, he moved to an empty chair near the settee, and stretched his long legs out before him. He sighed in feigned contentment, smiling at his friend to help set him at ease.

"You do not fool me, Estel. Say what you have come to say and be done with it." Legolas told him shortly, his face an unreadable mask as he took a sip of his wine.

Aragorn's brows raised in surprise. He had known Legolas suspected he had ulterior motives in coming, but did not expect him to address it. It was not a good start, for he would rather see his friend relax into some comfortable jesting and conversation before they broached why he had come.

But it would be pointless to try to sidestep the matter and change the subject now. Better to lay it out plainly and accept that Legolas would not be reasonable at first.

So, he took the direct approach. "We want you back, Legolas."

The elf cocked his head to the side and gave him an irritated look. "I am before you, Estel. Surely, age has not yet begun to affect your vision?"

A corner of Legolas's mouth raised, but Aragorn would not call it a smile. Still, the elf was making the effort to jest and that was heartening.

Aragorn took a swallow from his glass and sat it down on a small table beside his chair. "That is not what I meant and you know it, my friend. We want the happy, mischievous elf I have known since childhood to come back. Too long have you wandered in darkness, Legolas. It consumes you and is beginning to harm you, though you hide it well."

"Stop."

That one word halted him, as a spark of anger ignited in the elf's eyes.

"You do not know of what you speak, Aragorn, thus it would be better if you let it be. I am fine."

"Do not lie to me like a woman, Legolas. You are not fine," Aragorn retorted, his own ire beginning to rise at the stubbornness of his friend. "Your eyes are darkened in grief—"

"You do not understand!" Legolas stood, his anger evident. "You cannot understand. Leave it, Estel." His voice, which began loud and angry, diminished to an almost pleading whisper. "Please?"

Eyes sliding closed, Aragorn's heart ached at the request. He had known this would not be easy, would cause his friend distress, but how far did he dare to push?

His eyes snapped open when Legolas strode over to stand in front of the open doorway. Aragorn did not miss the shadow in Legolas's eyes before he turned away. How Aragorn wished he had understood what had happened to his friend years ago — had seen the cloud of sadness which kept him from truly enjoying his remaining years in Ennor. The elf had put up a good show and acted the part on occasion, but that shadow in his eyes was slowly draining the life from him and would eventually destroy him if Legolas did not defeat it.

And only Legolas could defeat it. This was not a battle the elf's friends could fight for him.

Gimli sat through their talk in silence, which surprised Aragorn, though he thought he saw the dwarf's lips moving as if he were beseeching Aulë to intervene. Perhaps he was.

Aragorn added his own petition. He could not heed his friend's request to let the matter be. Legolas had to listen.

"I can not leave it, Legolas." Aragorn's words brought the elf's eyes sharply to his. "I will not."

As he watched, he saw anger rekindle in Legolas's eyes for a second time, flaring up in response. Aragorn expected no less, for Legolas's pride was great. The tension that filled the room was heavy enough to be felt, yet, the elf said nothing, only continued to stare at them as his indignation simmered.

"Legolas" he pleaded, refusing to allow his own anger to be roused, "this has to stop, my friend."

"There is nothing you can do." Legolas's voice was cold. "Nothing anyone can do to help me, Aragorn."

"That is only too true," he agreed, rising to his feet. "Only you can help yourself, if you would only listen! Or will you continue to shut me out?"

The goblet of wine left Legolas's hand and flew into the wall across the room, crashing loudly.

Aragorn flinched as it broke. The wine left a dark stain, crimson droplets trickling down the wood in rivulets and puddling on the floor.

Legolas stared hard at the broken goblet, then turned and glared at Aragorn, visibly shaking with his anger. "This conversation is over!"

Before either Aragorn or Gimli could say a word, Legolas stormed out of the room onto the flet outside, then with a leap, disappeared into the branches of the tree.

"Hmmph," Gimli commented. "That went well."

Aragorn shook his head and sunk back into his chair in defeat.

He had failed.

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: Thank you so much to those reading and especially those taking the time to review! I really appreciate it! Your thoughts are most welcome.