Part 16.  Love has Many Faces

The two slightly dishevelled Elves and their enigmatic companion rode through the gates of Imladris just as the noon bell rang, and all hope Elrond and Thranduil had of slipping unnoticed to change their attire disappeared when they were met by their sons who had apparently been watching for their return.

“Where have you two been all night!” demanded Elladan of the two wayward Adars as they dismounted and let the groom lead their horses to the stables. Elrond and Thranduil exchanged an amused glance, the irony of being questioned for their late return by sons who thought nothing of doing so, was not lost on either of them.

“We could ask you the same of the night before. Had you been in your chambers when we left yesterday, you would have known where we had gone,” reprimanded Elrond. His sons merely looked at each other and shrugged.

“The singing and the wine lasted longer than we expected,” said Elladan by way of explanation.

“We were beginning to worry about you, Adar, and perhaps with good cause,” commented Legolas speaking more seriously as he frowned at the slowly fading scars he could see on the King’s chest. Neither of the elder Elves had even attempted to don their shredded undershirts, but unlike Elrond, Thranduil had also not bothered to button his tunic, leaving his scars clearly visible.

“You are injured as well, Adar. Were you attacked by Orcs this close to Imladris?” asked Elrohir soberly, his eyes glittering with fury at the thought. He did not realise that he embraced Elrond a little too tightly until he felt his Adar wince at the pressure on scars that were not quite healed.

“Nay, it was not Orcs they were fighting, but each other in a rather unwise contest,” explained Mithrandir with disapproval in his voice. “Fortunately I came upon them before too much damage was inflicted, who knows what might have happened had I not.”

“Nothing would have ‘happened’ for we were well aware of our limits, and a few scratches are nothing to be worry about,” said Thranduil, smiling at his son to show he was grateful for his concern.

“Indeed, it has been too long since I wielded my sword thus. A challenging opponent and a little danger can be very exiting, can it not?” added Elrond clapping Thranduil affectionately on the shoulder as the King nodded agreement.

“Then ‘tis a pity that Mithrandir’s untimely arrival interrupted your swordplay,” said Glorfindel with smirk. The innuendo in his tone of voice was met with a stern glares from both Elrond and Thranduil that they quickly turned on sons who were laughing merrily at their discomfort and Glorfindel’s wicked sense of humour.

“Perhaps it would be wise of you two to see to your scars and your attire,” Mithrandir suggested to Elrond and Thranduil with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Glorfindel, did I not hear the noon bell?” The Elf Lord nodded. “Good, then let us find something to eat and drink. Come along you three,” he said including the three younger Elves in his plans. “I wish to hear your news of the Rangers.”

Elrond had barely finished bathing and attending his partially healed wounds when the sounds of the commotion caused by new arrivals drifted up from the courtyard below.  The tranquillity of his rest was interrupted by two voices, shouting rather more loudly than was considered decorous by many in Imladris, but was to be expected from brothers who were pleased to see their sister.

Arwen returned their greetings and waved acknowledgement to Elrond who she could see peering over the balcony rail. She beckoned to him to join them, and he turned and strode quickly through the passageway that led outside, eager to also be engulfed in her warm embrace.

“Arwen, I was not expecting you, but it pleases my heart that you have returned from Lothlórien. I have missed you,” he said tenderly as he kissed her brow.

“I missed you too, Adar. When I heard that Haldir was coming to Imladris for the New Year archery tournament, I begged Grandfather to let me accompany him,” she told Elrond.

“Ai and it appears that Celeborn had not the strength of will to refuse your request,” he teased as he turned his attention to Haldir. “Thank you for escorting my daughter safely home.”

“It was my honour and pleasure to do so,” said Haldir with a respectful bow. “The Lord and Lady send their respects and their affection, and a letter.” Elrond returned the bow and accepted the rolled up parchment that bore the seal of Lothlórien.

“I will read this later, but for now I will have Erestor show you to one of the guest chambers.”

“Then whilst you see to Haldir’s accommodation, I think I would also like to rest from the journey, but I can easily listen to the latest news while I am doing so,” said Arwen as she took her brothers by the arms and walked happily towards the house of Elrond.

With Elladan and Elrohir in tow, she quickly made her way to her chambers and closed her eyes as she stood outside the door, opening them quickly as she entered the room. All was as she had left it, and in fact it felt as if she had never been away.  As Arwen wandered around, touching the bed, the dresser, a few of her favourite trinkets as she allowed the feeling of being home fill her heart. Lothlórien was beautiful, and a refuge from her pain, but the whispering waters of Imladris ever filled her dreams she mused as she walked out onto the balcony to watch look out on the waterfalls. The moment was complete when she felt two arms holding her lightly around the waist, and she sighed with contentment as she rested her head on Elrohir’s shoulder.

                                                      *******

“Are you hungry, Adar?” Legolas asked as he placed the tray of fruit, bread and cheese he had brought with him on the small table near the opening to the balcony. Thranduil regarded him with a mixture of amusement and affection, as well as a little concern, well aware that the food was merely a ploy, and that it was not his hunger, but the scars that Legolas was really enquiring about.

“I will eat a little if you will join me,” Thranduil replied. Legolas nodded, but he could not keep his eyes from straying to the large red scar on his Adar’s chest.
”Look, it is almost healed,” said Thranduil, opening the sleeping robe he wore a little more so that Legolas could see the truth for himself. He reached out to gently touch the tender skin, and then moved his fingers up to trace the faint scar on Thranduil’s face.

“I have never seen you injured like this before, Adar, it is very…  unsettling,” he whispered, the fear in his eyes easily seen as he replaced his fingers with a soft brush of his lips.

“Have you never considered that even I am not immune to injury by cold steel?” asked Thranduil.

“It is a truth that I know in my mind, but one my heart refuses to face. I have already lost so many close to me, and should you be sent to seek refuge with Mandos, I would likely soon follow in my grief,” said Legolas, his eyes filled with tears.

“It was merely a practice session, Legolas. A contest that provided a means for Elrond and me to assuage our own grief and anger, to reawaken the warriors we once were so that we will prevail over the Dark Lord. I regret nothing except that I have caused you sorrow and pain, and for that I am truly sorry,” said Thranduil as he embraced his son.

“I understand, Adar, and I hope that the next time you feel the need for swordplay you will allow me to watch. It must have been a fearsome sight!” said Legolas his eyes now alight with excitement and pride. Thranduil laughed merrily, pleased to see his son’s quicksilver change in mood.

“We certainly managed to scare Mithrandir,” Thranduil chuckled. “You may consider yourself invited to the next bout between Elrond and myself, but should you not be practicing for your own contest? I see that Haldir has arrived to represent Lothlórien, and I can assure you that you do not want to disappoint my captains by losing this contest. They do not take kindly to loss, and are likely to choose unpleasant missions for you should you do so,” he teased.

“Only if their King allows them to,” said Legolas lightly.

“I would not risk their wrath, my son; they often do as they think best, regardless of my wishes.”

“Then it is a wonder that Tathar is not the general of your army,” laughed Legolas.

“He is still far too young and inexperienced, as are you. Anyway, I am sure Elrond is looking forward to watching the archery tournament, and I know I am. At least this time it is not being held in secret,” he teased. Legolas felt slightly embarrassed at the reference to the unofficial tournament he and Tathar had competed in so many years ago.

“Ai, I think a few hours on the archery range will stand me in good stead for tomorrow,” agreed Legolas. “I will see you at the evening meal,” he said, kissing Thranduil on the unscarred cheek before he turned to leave.

The archery contest was held early the next morning, and although it lasted several more rounds than intended. After the final round, Legolas and Haldir were locked in a tie and everyone was enjoying the display of skill so much that Elrond insisted there be a clear winner before the contest was finished. The winning arrow was finally fired and victory was awarded to Legolas, whose arrow landed a hair’s breadth closer to the centre of the last target than Haldir’s.

Both archers received much acclaim for their skills and Arwen rewarded them both with a kiss on the cheek and a promise of a dance later that evening. However, the highlight of the day’s celebrations was the impromptu display of sword fighting by Elrond, Thranduil and Glorfindel. Everyone in Imladris stood watching in fascination and awe as the warriors of old, dressed in Elven battle armour, sparred together in a three sided mock battle, wielding their swords so swiftly that the elegant and deadly moves were difficult to see, even with Elvish eyes.

When the contest ended, there was a thunderous round of applause, intermingled with cheering such as had never before been heard in Imladris.

                                                          *******

The New Year celebrations were at an end and the Mirkwood delegation was returning to their home forest, well aware that they had to be wary of orc attacks, especially as they crossed the Misty Mountains

“Legolas, climb up here and bask in the starlight with me,” suggested Thranduil who had insisted on taking his turn at watch. Legolas looked up into the tree to see his Adar sitting on a wide branch, high enough up to afford a good view of the approaches to the campsite.

“I would be pleased to, Adar, if only to remove myself from the presence of Mithrandir’s pipe,” replied Legolas trying to sound affronted rather than break out into laughter as did the rest of the Elves. Mithrandir merely raised a single eyebrow in query, unable to comprehend why his companions would not join him in the relaxing act of pipe smoking, preferring instead to sing and tell tales.  Legolas nimbly negotiated the climb and settled himself alongside his Adar, leaving Mithrandir telling the King’s guards of his journeys since last he visited the Woodland Realm.

“Starlight is both beautiful and comforting, is it not?” Thranduil asked his son. Legolas nodded his agreement. “And even more comforting I expect when one is walking under the stars with the lovely Arwen?” he continued in a nonchalant manner.

“Ai, her beauty was matched by that of the shimmering starlight. Why the sudden interest in Arwen?” asked Legolas warily.

“Everyone was saying what a stunning couple you two make, and you spent so much time together after the tournament, that as your Adar, I was merely curious as to your feelings about her,” replied Thranduil.

Legolas sighed, yet did not regret the incident that led to the misunderstanding about his relationship with Arwen. In the early hours of the morning after the final ball, Elladan and Elrohir had found them laying on the grass in one of the gardens, both sound asleep with Legolas holding Arwen close as she rested her head on his chest. They had spent the night talking of Lothlórien and Mirkwood, the losses they had both already suffered, the return of the Shadow and the fading of the Elves, finally drifting into sleep as Legolas sang softly to the stars.

The brothers wrongly assumed that Legolas and Arwen had become lovers and by the time the couple arrived for breakfast, everyone they passed either smiled knowingly or tried to learn the day they planned to hold their betrothal. Naturally they had both denied they were betrothed, and after several vain attempts to convince certain Imladris Elves otherwise, Legolas and Arwen had simply decided to continue keeping company and let her brothers think whatever they wished.

“We are merely good friends, nothing more,” said Legolas a little harshly. He was annoyed to think that even his Adar did not really believe his denial.

“A pity, I really thought there was more between you two, and perhaps you just did not realise it, just as Tathar did not admit his love for Mirieth without assistance. As much as I disliked her matchmaking, I have to admit that were Elisiel still here, she might actually have tried to bring you and Arwen together,” said Thranduil with a sad smile at the mention of his own beloved.

“Not even Naneth would have succeeded in such a task,” said Legolas with a certainty that piqued Thranduil’s curiosity even further.

“What makes you so sure?” he asked.

“Aside from the fact that I find love to be a painful emotion and cannot allow anyone else into my heart for fear I will cause them to suffer should I not survive in battle against the fell creatures of our forest, there is also the fact that when we kissed, the music our hearts sang was not the love of a soul mate. Arwen is not the one who completes me, Adar,” he said with a shrug of resignation.

“But there is someone, somewhere, who will. Of that I have no doubt,” said Thranduil reassuringly. “Do not let your past grief deny you the chance to love, for even in the darkest times, the keeper of your heart will light your way.”