Chapter 33.  Conflict and Resolution

Legolas  peered into the room that was lit by the faint glow of moonlight, and  saw Tathar sitting on the bed with his head resting on knees that were drawn up to his meet his chest. His hands were wrapped around his shins as and his shoulders rose and fell in time with his sobs of grief.  The sorrowful sight was more than Legolas was able to bear, and without hesitation, he moved over to the bed, and took his friend in his arms, offering him the same comfort that Tathar had often given him in his dark times.

“Faelas was such a beautiful babe,” Tathar whispered as his tears subsided. He accepted the warm embrace by placing his arms around Legolas’s waist and resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. Legolas nodded his agreement.

“Ai and so utterly adorable that he captured everyone’s heart,” he added, kissing his lifelong friend tenderly on the brow. His words evoked a small smile of pride from the distraught adar who was desperately trying to regain control of his broken heart.

“I am sorry for my abrupt departure. I did not mean to mar Aragorn’s good news but mention of his unborn son reminded me of my loss and my grief overwhelmed me. It hurts so much, Legolas.” The anguish in his voice, and the soul deep sorrow in the eyes that met his, undid Legolas and he ley his own tears fall.

“I know, but do not be concerned for I am certain Adar will offer an explanation to Aragorn and Gimli. Perhaps you should try to rest,” he suggested sensing the emotional strain had taken its toll.

“Stay with me, please Legolas? I do not wish to be alone.”

“You are not alone,” Legolas reassured him as he hugged his friend close, softly singing a sweet lullaby into the silky hair as he tenderly caressed the soft tresses.  Before long his ministrations had the desired soothing effect, and the grief stricken Elf in his arms drifted into reverie. Rather than disturb the affectionate scene that met his eyes when he came to see how Tathar was faring, Thranduil simply stood at the end of the bed and exchanged a wordless good night with his son, then quietly closed the door on his way out.

Legolas soon succumbed to sleep, only to be awoken shortly after by Tathar’s restless movements and the same piercing scream of “NO!” that had shattered the peace of Imladris when Tathar learned of Faelas’s death. He awoke drenched in sweat from the pain of his nightmare, and in his still drowsy and anguished state, lashed out at Legolas.

“It is your fault; you should not have let him go to Gilbard’s village!” Tathar spat the words with venom, and pushed his friend away. Legolas knew it was Tathar’s anger and grief that was speaking, but the words cut into his heart nonetheless.

“I tried to stop him, you know I loved him as if he were my own son,” he said, although he had been forgiven, he had always harboured a hidden guilt that he had not been able to precent the young Elf’s death.

“Then perhaps it would be wise of you not to feel that way about Aragorn’s son, lest he die in your charge as well!” Legolas was speechless with horror at the words coming from his friend, and his pain turned to uncontrollable anger.

“I had no more control over Faelas than you ever did! You swore you held me not to blame, and I believed you. It seems I was mistaken and all these years of friendship have been based on a lie. I know you grieve, and I can forgive you much, but since you accuse me of being the cause of your suffering, I will remove myself from your sight!” Legolas shouted angrily as he stormed towards the door, and directly into Thranduil’s arms. The King had heard the raised voices and had come to see what had happened.

“He does not mean it, Legolas,” he said as tears of hurt and rage wet his son’s cheeks.

“I think he does, Adar,” he said shaking his head with infinite sadness.

“Go and refresh yourself, and join Aragorn and Gimli for the morning meal. I will stay with Tathar and try and speak some sense to him,” said Thranduil. He watched his dejected son go into the next room and collect some clean clothes, before heading to the bathing pool, then taking a deep breath, he opened Tathar’s door and entered unannounced.

The younger Elf was standing in the archway that served as both window and doorway to the balcony, watching the day dawn. Tears were streaming down his face from eyes that were filled with despair, and he seemed unaware that Thranduil come and placed an arm about his shoulders.

“Aragorn’s news reminded me of the day Legolas was conceived, of how overjoyed Elisiel and I were that we were to be blessed with a son,” Thranduil said quietly as he joined Tathar on the balcony.

“As were Mirieth and I, but my son now resides in the Halls of Waiting, whereas yours does not,” Tathar said bitterly.

“And for that you blame Legolas?  ‘Tis only Mandos who has the power to call for those destined to reside with him,” Thranduil reminded the younger Elf.

“Ai, that is so,” he admitted, suddenly ashamed of what he had said to his friend, his brother in all but blood. “I spoke unthinkingly, but could not stop myself. All I could see was Faelas’s fair face, his ever smiling eyes now darker than the shadow looking past me, void of all life and spirit.” Tathar began to sob again, and Thranduil drew him into his arms.

“The grief never fades, does it?” he asked quietly. He felt the head resting on his shoulder shake slightly as Tathar recognised the voice of one who had also lost loved ones.

“I thought it had, but….  I have lost my son and now Legolas hates me.”

“He is understandably upset, but he could never hate you,” Thranduil stated with deep conviction. “Although I think it may take some time before he is ready to forgive you.”

Legolas was not in a very forgiving mood when he joined his friends for the morning meal, nor was he willing to discuss what had transpired between him and Tathar. He promptly stilled any talk of his ‘so called’ friend with an abrupt response to Gimli’s innocent query as to Tathar’s health.

“He is well enough,” was all he would say as he slammed his mug down onto the table in a manner that was definitely unlike the Elf and caused both his friends to jump.

“I think I will return to the city with you, Aragorn so that I can offer my congratulations to Arwen in person,” he said trying to sound cheerful while he part of his heart was dying from the wound Tathar had inflicted with his accusation.

“She will be pleased to see that you have safely returned from your ‘disappearance’. Had not Elladan and Elrohir been there to keep her company, I believe she would have insisted on us aiding in our search,” he told his friend.  Legolas imagined Arwen doing just that, despite her delicate condition and his face turned deathly pale as Tathar’s words came back to haunt him. Aragorn’s unborn son may not have survived such an ordeal.

“What ails you, Legolas?” asked Gimli as he noticed the Elf’s paleness and the fear in his eyes.

“Nothing, I am just suddenly rather weary, I did not sleep last night,” he replied, forcing a smile. Aragorn and Gimli knew a deception when they heard one, especially one coming from the Elf, but knew him well enough to realise he would not be forthcoming with his problem unless he wished to share its burden.

Their concern grew as, during the next few days, as Tathar remained in his rooms, and Legolas wandered aimlessly around the forest in a dark mood that not even the soft whisperings of the trees could lighten. He made no move to speak with his estranged friend and steadfastly refused any attempts at interference.

“Legolas, Tathar is very ill, he asks for you whenever he is awake, you must go to him.” Thranduil told him after Tathar had again refused to eat.

“I have nothing to say to him,” he replied, anger flashing in his eyes. Finally Thranduil had had enough, and ordered Legolas to accompany him to speak with Tathar, threatening to have Aragorn and Gimli tie him up and carry him to his friend’s rooms if he refused. Legolas had no doubt that the threat was genuine, and that his friends would carry out their part, so rather than suffer such humiliation, he found himself sitting stiffly in a chair at the side of Tathar’s bed.

He could not help but gasp at the dark circles around eyes that were dull with grief. Tathar offered a pale imitation of a smile, and weakly reached out his hand.

“I am so sorry that I have hurt you so deeply, mellon nin. I know you will never be able to forgive the words I would that I had never spoken, but please do not hate me,” he implored.

“I loved Faelas as if he were my own son, I would have given my life to save his if I could,” Legolas said with barely controlled anger as he took the strangely cold hand in his. He looked at Thranduil with alarm as he suddenly recognised that his friend was fading.

“Ai, he can no longer bear the grief of his loss, nor the pain he has caused you,” Thranduil affirmed.

“You must sail to Valinor at once,” Legolas said as he forgot his anger and took the slight body of his friend into his arms. The thought of losing his friend caused his heart to beat rapidly with fear.

“I can not leave while you struggle with your inner conflict,” he replied.

 “You are my heart’s brother Tathar; I love you and do not wish to lose you to Mandos. Please do as I ask?” he begged. When he received no response, he turned to Thranduil, his eyes imploring his Adar to give him the words to convince Tathar.  The King moved to the other side of the bed and tenderly stroked fading Elf’s cheek.

 “Eryn Lasgalen thrives now it is released from the shadow and our friends live in safety and peace. Go to Valinor, and take comfort in Mirieth’s arms, for we both know she is the only one who truly understands your grief. I will take care of Legolas, as will his mortal friends. As one adar to another, I beg of you to do as he bids, for if you fade, he will surely follow you.” Tathar could not find it in his heart to deny such a plea and closed his eyes in silent acquiescence.

“I will travel with you to Mithlond, mellon nin,” said Legolas, his relief evident in his brilliant smile that faded as Tathar’s face twisted with pain.

“Nay, I will not allow you to temp fate so, Legolas.”

 Legolas felt the slim form in his arms stiffen, and placing a finger beneath Tathar’s chin, tenderly lifted his face upwards so that they could see into each other’s eyes. In a single moment of silent communication all was forgiven and the bond of friendship burned brightly once more.

“Tathar, I have made my choice, and need no longer fear the sea. I have slept on the sandy shore, and danced among the waves, yet I am still here. I will travel to the Havens with you, and even if I am merely fooling myself, and find I am drawn into answering the call and taking sail with you, then so be it. For love of you, I will not see you suffer any longer, and will not rest until I see you safely on the Straight Road.”

“I love you, too my brother,” whispered Tathar as his eyes glazed and he drifted into reverie with a smile of joy playing on his lips.