Regrets, Worries and Revelations

Chapter Six: Regrets, Worries and Revelations

After Nana tucked me into bed, Thranduil came to visit me. He sat down on the side of my bed and patted me gently on the chest. "How are you feeling?"

"I am better," I told him. By this time, I felt as if I had told everyone in the palace the status of my stomach. I could not help but hope that the king would be the last inquiry into my self-inflicted ailment. It was embarrassing enough as it was. I was actually relieved to be in bed. At least there I could not fall out of a tree, be captured by strange men or eat enough aewbas to see a patrol through a prolonged campaign. I did not think I wanted to ever see aewbas again. When I became a warrior, I decided I would take my own supply of lembas and take a bite when I got really hungry.

Uncle smiled. "That is good news," he said. "The healers assure me that you and Legolas will live through this little overindulgence."

I nodded. Now that I was feeling better, I was fairly confident that I would survive if I did not die first from all this family concern. I felt as if I were the cracked egg in the nest, and everyone had to stand watch to be certain I would be able to peck my way out. Legolas probably felt the same way: sick at his stomach and sick of being fussed over like a defective hatchling.

"Daeron," Uncle said, mildly, "you and Legolas have been through quite a frightening experience. It would not be unusual for you to feel a little unsettled for a time. I understand there is much about what happened that has caused you some confusion. It is difficult to understand what motivates people at times. Even those of us who have lived for many years longer than you often do not understand why things happen the way they do." He ran his hand gently over the crown of my head. "I am always here for you, child. I would like to hear whatever you wish to tell me about your thoughts and experiences."

I could not look him in the eye at that point. I was feeling too uncomfortable. Not with him, but with the jumble of thoughts that raced through my head as I tried to picture exactly what did unsettle me. I could not narrow it down so easily that I could chose something and discuss it with him.

I ran my hand over the soft silk of his tunic sleeve. After leaving the dining room each evening, he would shed the formal robes of the king and relax in his tunic and leggings. He was far less threatening when he merely looked like an Elf enjoying his family time. I like to think of him as only my uncle. The fabric felt smooth, soft and slightly cool to my touch as I rolled it gently between my fingers. "I do not know what to tell you, Uncle," I said softly.

"Anything you would like," he answered.

The truth was that I really did not feel much like talking about it at that moment. I thought it best to just leave it alone for a while, and I would see how I felt about it later. I appreciated him coming, but I knew that Legolas would tell him what transpired during our time with the men. Besides, I was getting too sleepy to think overly much anyway, and I certainly did not want to relive that day in all its gory detail. It was too fresh in my memory. Not to mention that I had not entirely separated those events that I hoped no one would ever know about from the ones that were out of our control. I could just see myself telling Uncle that the whole reason we were captured was because I knocked us from a tree trying to escape a spider. If he knew this, I feared he would blame me for placing Legolas in such danger. I suppose I was to blame, but I did not want to hear him say this.

"I am not certain I want to talk about it yet, Uncle," I said. "I think I am too sleepy to think right now."

Thranduil nodded and gave me another small smile. "I am glad you can sleep this night, Daeron. You need the rest. However, I hope you will remember that I am always willing to listen if you wish to talk about this. I will do my best to help you understand and to make you feel safe." He bent low and kissed me on the forehead. "I would never allow any harm to come to you if I can prevent it. You are too precious to me. Indeed, you are too precious to all of us."

"Thank you, " I whispered. "I will remember."

"Perhaps," he said, thoughtfully, "you may feel more comfortable talking to Seregon. He loves you very much, Daeron, and would do anything to aid you" Then, he chuckled. "Do not let his sometimes demanding personality make you think otherwise. He is an officer most of his day, and I think he finds it difficult sometimes to leave that role behind when the day is over. He is learning that he does not have to be on duty at all times." He tapped me on the shoulder with his finger. "Do not misunderstand me, little one. Your brother is as fine an officer as there has ever been. I am grateful every day for the thorough job he does in seeing this realm protected. I would not do without him as my nephew or as one of my commanders. My love and respect for him are great."

I had nothing to say to that. I had thought that Legolas and I were the only ones to have found Seregon dull and foreboding. Maybe Uncle was not exactly saying he was those things, but it came as a relief to me to know that he understood how difficult my brother could be.

"Get some rest, my child," Uncle said when I made no reply. "I will see you in the morning." It always made me feel warm when he called me, my child. I knew I was not his son, but I also liked to be reminded that he loved like I was one of his. Indeed, as I thought about it, I realized he did love me this way because to his way of thinking, I was his. It felt good to belong.

After Thranduil had gone, Seregon came. Uncle undoubtably sent him, but it really did not matter; I was glad he came even if it was only for the comfort of having him near. For some odd reason, I felt more at ease in his presence than I had in the past. It was not that I was really uncomfortable with him before, but I had always more or less put him in the category of stern adult. After what I had witnessed of him in battle, I could think of no one I felt safer with physically, but there were other changes between us that were new to me. I have always known that he loves me. However, our relationship seemed to be built on my ability to cause him irritation, and his reaction to me: the thorn in his side. Until now, I really had not cared what he thought, and I even took some delight in scaling his nerves, like a black squirrel running up a tree to squawk at an army of passing orcs. I felt bad about that now as I recalled the look on his face when he swept me up into his arms after the short battle. I had not thought that anything could frighten him-- irritate him as easily as butter glides over toast, yes--but to truly cause him fear, that had never entered my mind. But, for my part, I remember how I felt when he held me safely in his arms. That was the moment I became the butter, and I only wanted to melt into him: absorbed, safe and warm.

He climbed into the bed with me and pulled me to his side. My head was just at the right place to rest on his shoulder. "It is nice to be back in your own bed, is it not?" he smiled.

I nodded. The stomach draught must have had something in it to make me sleepy. I had begun to wonder about all these sleeping potions. That would certainly be one way to keep a short rein on Legolas and me. They would have to look no further than our bedchambers. Still, it seemed a bit like cheating to me. What I did not like about the potions were the strange dreams I would have when I had been imbibing in them too often. I had been too tired the night before to dream very much, or at least I did not recall any dreams. But on this night, when I closed my eyes I saw the men. The young man was there, smiling at me as he demonstrated how we should eat. His smile was pleasant and non-threatening. I smiled back at him in my dream. Suddenly, the scene turned to chaos, and I saw the older man take Legolas and swipe a knife across his neck. I sat straight up in bed.

"What is it?" Seregon asked, evidently alarmed when I bounced up like a startled doe. Before I had finally succumbed to sleep, Seregon had been reading a tale of the First Age to me. He set aside the book and reached out for me.

Once my mind had cleared enough to realize where I was, I shook my head. "It is nothing. I must have been dreaming." Cautiously, I laid back down, curling into his side. My heart was pounding, and my stomach felt as if it had turned inside out--again.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked mildly.

"About the older man," I whispered as a shudder ran over me that was so cold, it was as if the fingers of a Nazgûl were counting each bone up my spine.

He put the book aside and pulled me closer. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

I still had the dream imprinted on my eyes. I saw the man grab Legolas, and then his arm drew back and began to make a straight motion that would go across Legolas’ throat. I certainly did not want to talk about that. Saying the words seemed to make it too real. Still, I wanted to talk about something until the vision faded back into that dark corner in my head where I stored such horrifying thoughts like big hairy spiders and the possible death of my cousin. There were many choices of subjects that flitted around the edges of what I was truly seeing. Ten men had died. I hesitated for only a few seconds. "I did not kill him," I stated, trying to determine if this was a good circumstance or a bad detail.

"No," Seregon answered softly. "It was Aldamir’s arrow that killed him."

I nodded my head. There was a part of me that wanted to be the one who stopped harm from coming to someone I loved. There was another part of me that did not want to be responsible for ending another person’s life. It was not so much this particular man I felt bad about, though he had not been exactly cruel to us if you did not count the part where he tried to kill Legolas. It was more of an overview about taking the life of anything or anyone. As an Elf, I had been taught since I could draw breath that all life was sacred. Unfortunately, not all living creatures saw my life or the lives of my people as worthy of much more than a quick death. I did not even want to think about what I had heard that orcs do to Elves. I could not imagine who would think up such things as our ruined relatives did. Now, there was a shocking thought: We are distant kin of orcs--very distant, I might add. I knew my brother could vouch for that. He has on more than one occasion insinuated that I was more orc than Elf. Still, I knew one day when I became a warrior, I would do what I had to do. At that moment, I did not think I was ready for dealing out death. There were too many hazy areas in the concepts of good and evil that I did not understand. Orcs were easy, even if they had once been Elves. It was the other various shades of life that were giving me a difficult time.

Seregon slid down in the bed until he was face to face with me. He took my chin in his fingers and looked me straight in the eye. "Daeron, what you did was very brave. I am glad you were near and could help Legolas." He kissed me on the forehead. "I am very proud of you, little brother. Some day you will be a fine warrior."

I wanted to be a warrior; I knew I did, but there was something in his voice that made me think he was saddened by the idea. Since I could not discern why this would be, I took to heart his praise and held on to it. I pressed into his chest, putting my arms around him as best I could. "I am glad you came for me," I said.

A slow smile spread across his lips. "As it turns out, little brother, I cannot do without you." There, curled against this large powerful Elf, is where I fell asleep. The men did not bother my dreams any further that night.

I found out at morning meal, though, that there is no rest for the weary. Borgil, our dour and cranky tutor, was expecting us for lessons.

"Can we not just go to training early?" Legolas asked. I nodded my approval at Legolas’ suggestion that we dispense with Borgil and his lessons for the day. Had we not suffered enough already?

Thranduil did not even raise his head from where he had bent to take of bite of porridge. Only his eyebrows inched upwards as he looked at us. He said nothing. Obviously, that was out of the question.

Once Uncle had completed his meal, he sat back in his chair and sighed. "It is good to have everyone home and at this family table," he said. There were smiles all around. Even the prospect of having to resume lessons did not dampen my happiness for being home and for Erelas being there with us.

However, Uncle knows how to summon rain clouds. "Legolas and Daeron, when you have finished your meal, I wish to see you in my office," he told us calmly. My heart thudded and my mouth dropped open. He was not going to forget that we left our appointed play area.

My feet dragging as if rocks had been placed in my boots, I trudged alongside an equally unhappy Legolas to Uncle’s office. We stood looking at the door for as long as we dared under the watchful eye of the guard. Legolas appeared to have frozen to the floor, so I knocked gently. It is possible that I rapped a bit too softly in hopes that no one would hear, and we could go on to Borgil in the library. Lessons were looking far more appealing than they had earlier.

To our dismay, Thranduil bade us to enter. Aldamir, Seregon and Erelas were all present. They were seated; we were not. That did not bode well for us.

"First of all, I do not think I have to tell you how relieved and overjoyed this family is to have the two of you returned to us safely," Uncle began, "but, I will tell you because I want you to understand how precious you are to us. You are valuable to this family and this realm beyond measure. Your happiness and your safety is of utmost importance to us. That is why we teach you. We strive to provide you with the tools and the skills you need to succeed and to survive. It is our prayer that you will grow to understand them and to apply them wisely in your lives." He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes, Adar."

"Yes, Uncle."

"It is for this reason we endeavor to help you learn from your mistakes. No matter how much we teach, only you choose how you will behave. When you err, it is my responsibility to see that you understand your errors and are held responsible for them."

We both nodded miserably.

"Before we attend to the matter of you leaving your play area, there is something more we must discuss," he said. Now, I really was frightened. I was expecting the play area transgressions to be addressed, but else had we done? What happened to all that joy he had just told us about?

"What happened to you was a terribly serious and frightening experience." His voice softened a bit as he looked us over. "I would not have had either of you see such things at your age, and I am sorry that you did. The world can be a dangerous place, and, as you have found out, the forest is dangerous even for those who know what lies in wait. I am told that the two of you acted bravely and obeyed well during the battle and afterwards. You kept your heads and remained calm despite the danger and the fear I am certain you felt." He smiled at us. "I am very proud of you."

I could not help the weak, but pleased smile that lifted the corners of my mouth.

"Daeron," he said, addressing me.

My smile faded, and my breath caught in my throat. Here it was; the moment where all the relief and happiness he felt for having us back within his grasp would evaporate, and he would throw me in the dungeon like a barrel of bad wine. I would be forgotten, becoming nothing more than a cobweb in Elven history. In the future, Elves would say such things as: Do you remember that elfling ... what was his name? The one who disobeyed the king and was captured by those men who we have no idea who they were? Naneth and Seregon would be shamed and deny ever knowing anyone who would do such a thing. In a book about the early Eldar days that Borgil made us read, I read where it was said that elflings rarely needed any teaching. Elflings must have changed a great deal since then. We are now in trouble regularly.

Uncle’s eyes never left me, but a softness came into them when he saw I was near to fainting dead away from fright. "What you did was very brave," he said kindly, "and we all believe your actions saved Legolas’ life. If you had not distracted the man for the crucial moment that Aldamir needed to obtain a clean shot, it is likely the man would have killed Legolas. For that, you will always have my gratitude." He smiled warmly at me. "You already have my love." He reached into a side drawer of his desk and removed my dull, but ever-loved knife. "I believe this belongs to you."

I took it from him, shocked and in a strange way very pleased. My knife was spotlessly clean, still dull, I might add, but cleaner and shinier than it had ever been. And I was certainly relieved I was not going to be moving my bed to the deepest, darkest recess of a cave.

After Seregon confirmed I had not killed the man, I felt somewhat better about my part in what had happened. It was a feeling I cannot describe. I have heard warriors talking before, and they commented that killing the enemy from the trees was one thing, but to look into your enemy’s eyes as you drove your blade into his flesh was another. I did not look into the man’s eyes as I pressed with all my weight to drive a blade into his back, but I still felt the tearing of clothing and skin, the ripping of muscle, and the rush of hot blood onto my hand. I realized the pain I caused when he arched back onto me. I felt the jolt of the impact of Aldamir’s arrow strike his neck. I did not plan to stab the man, but I never even thought about it when the time came. I simply reacted to the threat to Legolas. I am not certain if that is really bravery; perhaps it was nothing more than blind fear. Still, I was pleased with the outcome. Legolas was unharmed. Uncle and Seregon were proud of me-- much to my relief. I only wished I knew how I felt about using my weapons on another person--except dumb elleths, of course. I knew I would not do that again. "Thank you, my lord," I muttered. Legolas smiled at me. I smiled back, but I knew I looked more bewildered than happy.

Uncle turned to his officers. "If you will excuse us now, I wish to speak with Legolas and Daeron privately." All three of them rose gracefully, bowed to the king, and went out. Erelas placed a comforting hand on both our shoulders as he passed. The door clicked softly behind him as he closed it.

"I asked your brothers to leave, because this is not a warrior or trainee matter," Thranduil told us. "This is a matter between me, my son, and my nephew."

Legolas drew a deep breath. He was steadying himself for the punishment-wielding adar. I was still so in shock that I was not altogether present at the time. In my mind, I had just gotten out of the dungeon; I hardly had time to contemplate my next demise. I gripped my knife tightly to steady myself.

Thranduil’s eyes lost the benevolent look. The stern ruler was back. "You willfully disobeyed me. I do not make rules for you without just cause. I may not always choose to disclose to you my reasons, as is my right as parent, elder and king. It is your responsibility to abide by my rules. Thus, when you disregard my laws, you are then subject to the consequences. The consequences in this case have already been grave. They could have been deadly for the two of you. Your careless actions endangered the lives of warriors. I would not have you forget this. For the next two weeks, after you have completed your lessons and training, you will attend the laundress in her daily routine. Your free time until evening meal will be devoted to whatever she requires of you."

Laundry? Uncle was sentencing us to do laundry? I did not particularly care to wash myself much less everyone in the households’ clothing, and certainly not the apparel I did not even wish to think about. Legolas looked fairly stricken. The king’s son scrubbing ladies unmentionables? Or worse, me lathering up my nana’s nightdress. I was appalled.

"Do you understand?" Uncle asked.

We both nodded, too dumbstruck to utter a word.

"Good," he said. "She will expect you this day."

Training that day went well, even though everyone we saw wanted to hear the story about what had happened. Neither of us had much to say about the subject. The masters kindly tried to keep everyone on task and away from discussing it.

Our afternoon passed far too quickly for me. I had much rather have stayed on the archery range and loosed a thousand arrows than go to the laundry hut. But Orocarni dismissed us, and our time had run out. We were cornered like two pathetic rabbits.

After we had put away our training weapon, we were nearly back out the Great Doors to go to the little hut that sat on the eastern side of the stronghold near the river, when we met Erelas. "Where are you two going?" he asked, a happy relaxed grin on his face.

"To the laundry," Legolas grimaced.

"To the laundry?" he repeated, evidently surprised we would seek amusement in such a place. Of course, he was right. There would be no fun going on. Suddenly, his face lit with understanding, "Ah.h..h. Adar’s consequences." Uncle never punished us, he gave us consequences. Personally, I could not see the difference. They felt like the same thing.

Wearing identical sour looks on our faces, we nodded.

He smiled sympathetically. "Do not worry too much. Morwen, the overseer, is very kind. She tells wonderful stories."

"She does?" I exclaimed, surprised that anyone who spent their days slogging around in suds would know anything beyond how to remove stains.

"Yes," he grinned. "She was here when Oropher first came to the Greenwood. She knows many good tales."

Legolas frowned as he thought this over. "How do you know this?"

Erelas laughed aloud. "We have met." He flicked his hand out as if we required someone to point us in the right direction. "You best hurry. You do not wish to be late."

"That sounds like a story we should ask her about," I suggested as we started to go.

Legolas stopped after we had only walked a few steps and turned back to Erelas. "Erelas," he called.

He turned back toward us. "Yes."

"What did Nana say to all of you when she came into the dining room after we had gone to the healer?"

"You mean about the aewbas?"

Legolas nodded.

"What you would expect, I suppose. She was not pleased. I think she mentioned how irresponsible we were several times. She used the word inattentive frequently, too." His smile broadened. "I do think she believes these shortcomings to be failings of our gender." He raised his eyebrow. "I do not suppose you will do that again, will you?"

I huffed and crossed my arms. "I do not suppose so, unless you are along, and we will tell her you gave us the extra pouches."

He laughed happily, completely undaunted by my threats. "Giving you one extra pouch is not an invitation to eat the entire winter store." Still chuckling, he turned back down the corridor and called over his shoulder, "No, my little friends, you made the decision to eat yourselves all the way to the healers." He was fairly bent over laughing. "You were both as green as mid-summer!" He took a swipe at the air, his shoulders were still bouncing in glee as he left us standing behind.

"I used to like him," I muttered as I watched Erelas chuckling along on his merry way.

Morwen greeted us warmly and then took us on a tour of the three-room cottage used for the laundry. The entry room was small, warm, and dry. "This," she told us, "is where we sew new clothing and make repairs." Surely, she would not require us to sew. I knew while in novice training we would be taught simple techniques to mend our own clothing so that we could repair it in the field if need be. There was even some basic sewing required to maintain our equipment. But I simply could not see myself stitching up tears in Seregon’s tunics or leggings. My face felt frozen into a look so dumb that someone should have checked me for signs of life. Legolas was no better. He stared blankly as if his mind had been wiped cleaner than a washed dinner plate. I glanced around the room in hopes of jarring some sign of intelligent life from myself. Nothing of great import stirred in my head, but I did observe that there were several chairs and small tables. Ceiling to floor shelves along the walls held a wide range of colorful fabrics and threads. Only one other seamstress was there, and she smiled at us from where she was stitching a tunic. She probably felt sorry for us. I know I would have.

The second room was much larger. Situated around the room were three sunken fire pits with large footed pots seated over them for washing. The fires underneath these vats had gone out. There were another two pots used for rinsing. In this room we found two more females wringing out some things they had just taken from the rinse vats. They smiled and nodded. Valar help me! I moaned to myself. I was going to have to learn to stew clothing! Somehow I doubted this knowledge would come in handy when I became a warrior, and it was my turn to cook.

Morwen led us to the last room. It was banked on the North side with a large fireplace. A fire was stoked high to heat the room. "This is the drying room," she told us as she continued to explain the process. The floor was slanted stone with deep crevices cut lengthwise into its surface above which garments were hung from carved wooden hangers. The excess water dripped into the canals and ran out into a small stream that tumbled down a fern-infested decline into the Forest River. I sighed heavily and took in the rows of garments dripping into the trickling rivulets. I imagined I would add my tears to those streams before this was over.

When she had completed showing us the lay of the laundry, she led us back into the wash room and picked up two buckets. "We have completed washing for today. I would like you to take these buckets and dip out the pots. The water should be cool enough by now." She motioned for us to fill our buckets. We plunged them into the two closest pots. "Come I will show you were we empty the used water." She took us to a small reservoir behind the cottage. "The soaps we use are rich in nutrients. The gardeners use this water to irrigate seedlings and new plants for the gardens." She smiled. "They tell me it makes them grow strong."

I looked at Legolas. Now, this was a piece of information I could have lived without all the way to the Undying Lands and never missed. I had no idea. I could tell that Legolas did not know this either and was equally as impressed as I was that we could add this to our known facts about doing laundry in the Greenwood. All I could think about were the interesting facts we would be able to share with our fellow warriors while out on patrol. If one could die from embarrassment or utter stupidity, that would have been my moment.

"When you have completed emptying the pots, I would like you to replenish the wood for tomorrow’s fires." She showed us the woodpile outside and where we were to stack the pieces in wood boxes inside.

As we went back to dipping water, I looked to see where Morwen had gone. She was back in the sewing room. "Do you think there are any spiders in that woodpile?" I asked.

"Not any really big ones," Legolas said, sincerely, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.

I sloshed water from my bucket down his leg. "How clumsy of me." I grinned at him. "Sorry."

"Try not to spill the water, " Morwen called cheerfully. Legolas had the nerve to laugh. Next time, I would put the bucket on his head.

Thus, we spent our first day in forced labor.

When we returned to the palace, we met Erelas coming out of the Great Doors. His pack and weapons were swung over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Legolas asked, obviously startled to find his brother leaving again so soon.

Erelas smiled brightly. "I have duties to attend, little one. I will be home again soon."

"But you are on leave. You just got home!" Legolas protested.

"Things change, Legolas."

"Has something happened?" I asked. I am sure my eyes were wide enough to allow my eyeballs to fall out. I did not even want to think about any more bad dealings going on in our woods. As far as I know, bad things have been going in the forest since before I was born, but I still did not want to think about them.

"Nothing important," Erelas said. "Well, my younger brother and my cousin were kidnaped recently, but that is nothing to worry about. They were rescued by brave, handsome warriors. All is well." Then he smiled, his eyes dancing with mirth at our shocked looks.

"I was there," Legolas replied dryly.

I nodded my head. "Yes, I have always thought Ostoher was unusually good looking. I will have to tell him how much we appreciate his coming to our rescue." I cocked my head as if thinking deeply. "Oh! Were you there, too?"

Erelas laughed aloud and rumpled my hair. "You are incorrigible, Daeron. Do try to stay out of trouble while I am gone."

Despite Erelas’ and my jesting, Legolas continued to scowl. "I wish you did not have to go so soon."

"As do I," Erelas said, "but duty calls. I will be back before you know it." He bent and pulled Legolas to him, giving him a sound hug. "Keep Daeron out of mischief." When he released Legolas, he gathered me to him and squeezed tightly. "Watch my errant little brother until I can," he said.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone from us and down the steps. As we turned to watch him go, we saw his patrol waiting with his horse on the other side of the bridge. Erelas stowed his pack and mounted. Before giving the command to ride out, he turned and gave us a bright happy smile. With a quick wave of his hand, the small band of warriors fell in behind him, and they moved out.

"That is a part of being a warrior I might not like," I said as I watched them fade from our sight. "He did not get to complete his leave."

Legolas continued to look after his brother even though I knew he could no longer see him. He nodded, turned back to the doors and went inside. I sighed and followed.

By the end of the first week of laundry duty, we had become quite proficient in emptying the pots and stacking mound upon mound of firewood. Thankfully, I had seen no spiders, and I was looking.

Erelas was right; Morwen was easy to be around and quite pleasant. She talked to us freely, praising us when we worked hard and gently prodding us onward when we lagged behind. Since we were getting our work done more quickly, we found we often had a short recess in our duties at the end of our appointed time.

"Erelas said you knew Oropher," Legolas said one day when we were finished but had close to an hour before we were due back at the palace for evening meal.

"Yes, I did," Morwen said. "My family has long lived under these trees."

"I did not know him," Legolas told her, a tinge of sadness lowering his voice.

"No, I suppose you did not, " she smiled sadly at him. "You are far too young."

I turned my head back to Legolas to wait on what his reply would be, but he said nothing. He simply glanced down at his boots and picked at a loose thread on his tunic. Even Morwen looked as if she expected him to continue asking questions. It seemed an unnatural place to stop, so I asked what I thought was the appropriate next question. I knew he wanted to know about his grandfather. I might even ask her later if she knew my adar. "What was Oropher like?" I asked.

Morwen smiled and motioned us to sit in two of the chairs opposite her. When we were seated, she put her sewing down in her lap for a moment. A wistful faraway look glittered in her eyes. "I remember the first time I saw him. He was so tall and fair. It was most unusual to see such pale golden hair among our kind. Still, we were expecting him. There had already been much discussion about the Sindar lords coming among us. We had leaders of a sort whom we looked to in times when decisions were to be made, but we had no formal leadership like that of the Noldor and Sindar Elves. We lived freely among the trees, and we kept mainly only unto ourselves. But we did gather news from abroad. When we heard about the horrors of Doriath, and the unrest plaguing all Middle-earth, we knew our days of carefree life among the trees would eventually be threatened by this shadow. We also knew we must have some sort of formal leadership. It only made sense to accept the lords as guides since they were well acquainted with the movements of this evil. Oropher had seen much, and he shared our love of the trees and our contentment to live in a simple unencumbered way. He offered to us a way to protect ourselves and our way of life. He brought the knowledge of military might and organized patrolling to see our borders unmolested."

"How did he become king?" I asked. I had always wondered how this happened. Oropher was not one of these wood Elves, yet he came to them and was proclaimed king over them.

"He was already a Sindarin prince, an Elf of royal lineage." She nodded her head. "It was by our own decision that he was given such title. Since we were more isolated than many of the other Elven folk, we thought to grant him such title would carry more weight with those who might wish to bring us harm. We would become an organized and formidable foe to our enemy. We pledged our allegiance to him in return for his making us and our welfare his purpose. He gave of himself willingly, and we likewise gave to him without reserve. Eventually, we grew to not only respect and admire him, but we learned to love him as the kind and wise leader that he was." She cast her eyes to the wall above our heads. "There was great sorrow under these trees when he and so many others were lost at Dagorlad."

"Then Adar became king," Legolas whispered.

Morwen nodded and brought her gaze back to us. "Yes. Of course, we already loved your adar. We had known him since the coming of his adar to us. Thranduil was young when the Sindar first came, but he, Daeron’s adar, Tarondor, and their close friend, Aldamir--for whom your brother is named-- had worked tirelessly to see our borders safe. They lost much at the Last Alliance, too." After a moment, she smiled at Legolas. "Your adar has led us well in troubled times. Oropher would be most proud."

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes as we let this information sink in. We did, of course, know most of this from our lessons, but it was somehow more real to hear it from someone who was not a family member or a stuffy old tutor.

"Did you know my grandmother as well?" Legolas asked.

Morwen laughed. "Yes, of course. She became a dear friend of mine. Queen Luinil was one of the most wonderful Elves I have ever known. Her heart was as open and loving as all the forest." Leaning toward us, her eyes twinkled as if she had thought of some devilish delight she wanted to include us in. "There was no one who could maintain a firm grasp on Oropher when he was angry or upset like she could. She was very calm, but stern when needs be." Morwen’s smile broadened. "And she was quite mischievous at times. Oropher was usually her target." Morwen raised her brows. "Did you know, Legolas, that she was an accomplished archer?"

Legolas nodded uncertainly. "I have been told she was good with a bow."

Morwen laughed aloud. "Good? No, little one, she was extraordinarily proficient. She could even best your grandfather in a match and did so at every opportunity. She said it kept him humble." She looked as if she was thinking this over for a moment. "Of your adar’s sons, you are most like her, Legolas. As a matter of fact, Thranduil is much like her. Thranduil has his adar’s fire when aroused, but he has his naneth’s restraint. You have your grandmother’s gift with the bow." She nodded again. "Yes, you are Luinil’s grandson. She is greatly missed."

We knew what had happened to Legolas’ grandmother. I was sure Morwen did not speak of this to Legolas out of concern for his feelings. Luinil was lost. While on a spring outing to the southern regions of the mountains of Mirkwood, her party had been attacked by orcs. None of the Elven party survived. Naneth said Oropher never recovered from losing her. She said that he would have faded if it had not been for the great needs of his people and the love he bore for his son. His grief turned to rage and that wrath was quenched before the Doors of Mordor. His son became king.

"I always thought Adar was like Oropher," Legolas said, trying to sort out all this new information.

"In many ways, he is," Morwen agreed. "Thranduil is the king and conducts himself as such, but he is tempered by his naneth’s design." Placing her sewing in her lap, she leaned forward to caress both of our faces. "And he loves you two very much."

I felt my cheeks heat up and looked over to see that Legolas was blushing, too.

It was best, I thought, to move on to another topic. "Did you know my adar?" I asked.

"Yes, I did," she answered. "He and the king were very close. Thranduil, Tarondor and Aldamir were friends from the time they were not much younger than the two of you. Though I did not know them until the Sindar came to us, it was obvious to see how close they all were. And of course, your ada was the brother of Legolas’ naneth." She looked me over closely and nodded. "You look very much like your adar." I flushed deeply and felt the swell of pride I always felt when I thought about him. "He was tall and very handsome. And he had the most delightful sense of humor." She chuckled. "I think he viewed the world slightly different than most Elves, and in his view he saw only happiness and a multitude of ways to keep everyone around him laughing and singing. He was well loved by all." She studied me again. "I have heard that you are very good with a blade." I nodded and while I thought I was pretty good and had been told so, that did not mean I was. I hoped I was not lying too much. "Your adar was quite accomplished in the use of such weapons. He would be pleased to know how much you are like him."

I was pleased, too.

We had spent our first week of laundry duty when our morning meal was interrupted again by a messenger. This was getting to be a regular event, and I knew enough by this time to know that it could not be good news. The guard bowed to the king and queen, and then placed his hand over his heart in salute to Aldamir. "My lord, a message has been delivered for you."

Aldamir nodded and took the rolled parchment. As he read the contents, his expression did not change, but he seemed to pale slightly and something passed through his eyes that caused me to feel alarm. He tilted the parchment slightly for Seregon to read. I looked to Legolas and saw that he was watching his brother intently. Aldamir rose quietly from his place and went to his adar. Thranduil took the note and read it. He looked calm, but I could tell he had felt a jolt when he saw what the note said. He placed his hand on Lalaith’s shoulder and laid the note on the table for her to see. She went completely white as if every bit of blood had drained from her face. Her hand trembled slightly as she passed the note to my naneth. Nana stood and said, "I will look after the little ones."

Seregon stood and took his place at Aldamir’s side.

Thranduil took Lalaith by the hand as she rose and told her, "Go ahead, my love. I will talk to the elflings and will be with you shortly." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Aldamir and Seregon. They were gone in a only a second’s time with Auntie safely tucked between them.

Thranduil turned to face us, observed us quietly for a moment and then came to where we were still seated. Both of us had been so stilled by the quickly unfolding events neither of us had stood when he did. At that point, I do not think he even noticed our fracturing of protocol. He knelt between us but his attention seemed to be centered on Legolas. "Erelas has been wounded," he said quietly. "He is being taken to his chambers now, and the healers are with him. Until I see him I do not know how grave his situation is, but he will be well cared for." Legolas went as pale as his naneth had. Thranduil pulled his sons close and kissed him on the forehead. "I do not wish for you to worry, and I will send word to you as soon as I can, but I must go to him now, Legolas. You and Daeron go to your lessons and wait with Borgil." He stood and patted each of us with as much reassurance as he could muster and started out.

"Ada," Legolas called after him, fear evident in his voice. Uncle stopped and looked back at us. "Can I not see him?"

"Not now, Legolas. The healers will be very busy, and we do not want to be in their way. As soon as possible, I promise you." He was gone quickly and quietly.

"Come," my naneth said, softly. "I will see you to the library."

On mornings when we had lessons, Legolas and I would leave morning meal and return to our chambers for our books and tablets, but on this morning I knew we would not be allowed back into the family wing. Legolas and I followed her wordlessly to the library. I could feel Legolas shivering beside me and knew of nothing I could do to comfort him. I was frightened and worried, too. Naneth hugged us both before she sent us into the room. She motioned to Borgil, and he stepped outside into the corridor with her. She gently closed the door.

Legolas stopped dead and stared at the table where we normally sat for our lessons. Not knowing what else to do, I stopped beside him. "What if he dies?" he whispered.

"He will not," I answered and without forethought, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him quickly. "He will not leave us."

Borgil came in the door and closed it quietly behind him. He smiled kindly at us and placed an arm around both of us. "Come. Let us work on art this morning." It was our favorite time of lessons when he let us draw or do something colorful and fun. On this day, such activity seemed frivolous and difficult to contemplate. But I knew he was trying to distract us with something pleasurable. I appreciated the gesture.

While we worked making a map of Mirkwood by pasting dyed sand for our colors, Borgil told us stories. The stories seemed less about teaching than usual and seemed to be more like the kind of stories our parents told us at bedtime. They were about squirrels and rabbits, deer and horses. His voice was softer and lighter, his tone rising and falling in cadence with how he thought a rabbit would talk or a squirrel would chatter. I noticed the measured tones of his voice more than I did the words. The constant sound of his voice was welcome and soothing company as we scattered colored sand over our maps.

At midday a servant brought our meal to the library. We were normally not allowed any food or drink there, but it did not seem important at that time. We had finished our maps and gone on to painting whatever we wanted. I was making a half-hearted attempt at fashioning a horse in a field and Legolas was painting a tree. We put our papers aside and sat down to eat, but neither of us felt any desire for food. I drank my cider but found the stew too hard to swallow. Legolas sipped at his drink, though he barely touched his stew except to move it around in the bowl. Borgil leaned forward from his place and squeezed Legolas’ shoulder. "You must eat something, little one. I know you are worried, but you going hungry will not help Erelas. He would not wish for you to worry so." He sat back up. "And it would worry him if he knew you were not taking care of yourself." Legolas placed a carrot in his mouth and chewed slowly. I decided I would try to eat, too.

When the time came for us to go to training, Borgil told us that our masters knew we would not be coming and why. We were to stay with him.

The afternoon wore on and still we had received no word. Borgil told us stories tirelessly and read to us from books and scrolls about the awakening of the Elves, and the time before the sun came to Arda. He read to us about the creation and the Valar and the music. He sang to us and played a harp. I had no idea he could sing so well and found myself becoming drowsy with the soft lulling of his music. Legolas was curled up next to me on a large reading couch, and his head drifted to rest on my arm as we listened. And we waited. It seemed like an eternity of waiting.

It was almost time for evening meal when the door finally opened. Aldamir came in with a tired but pleasant enough smile on his face. Legolas and I jumped up from the couch. "You can see Erelas now," he said. He bent slightly to our level. "He has been given something to help him sleep so he may not know you are there. Right now, Erelas needs to rest. Adar will tell you about what happened later. Adar and Naneth are with him."

Legolas and I trailed along behind Aldamir as we walked to Erelas’ chambers. Legolas seemed to be holding his breath, and I was not sure if I were breathing enough for both of us or if I were really holding my breath like him. I simply did not seem to be getting enough air as I wrestled with my fear of seeing Erelas wounded, and my overwhelming desire to see him.

Aldamir opened Erelas chamber door quietly and stood aside for us to enter. The room was dimly lit and far too tidy for Erelas’ chamber. When he was in residence it often looked as if a fell wind had torn through it, books scattered like unfurled leaves, clothing tossed over the furniture and even after his bed was made by the servants, the coverlet was often squished and shifted. But now, his chamber was frighteningly neat. There were no signs of blood stained bandages or clothing, nothing to give evidence that he had been wounded, except for some small containers with herbs or potions of some kind arranged neatly on the bedside table. Aunt and Uncle were seated by the bed. The healer was standing off to the side in front of the low burning fire, scribbling furiously with a quill into a small binder of parchment.

When we came fully into the room, Lalaith extended her hand to Legolas, and he went to her. Thranduil motioned me to him. Safely leaning against Uncle’s knee with his hands gently on my shoulders, I took in the sight of Erelas for the first time. As badly as I wanted to see him, I think I had been nearly afraid to truly look at him, fearful of what I would find. He was lying on his back with the deep forest green and gold coverlet pulled all the way up to his chin. His face was so pale he looked as white as the linen pillow covering upon which his head rested. His dark hair had been brushed, the braids removed, and it had been arranged neatly. My heart pounded. Erelas’ eyes were completely closed! I could see his long dark lashes resting softly in repose. If I had not been able to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought him dead.

"He is sleeping now," Auntie told us. "The healers assure us he will be well again soon."

Legolas reached tentatively to touch his brother’s shoulder, but stopped short of actually making contact and withdrew his hand.

Auntie’s hand caressed the crown of Legolas’ head. "You will not hurt him, Legolas. I do not think he will even awaken."

Slowly, Legolas stepped forward and gathered strands of Erelas’ hair between his fingers. Gently, he leaned over and laid a kiss on his brow. "Get better soon," he whispered.

I did not wish to intrude, but I very much wanted to touch him, just to feel his presence and solid form under my hand. I reached out and stroked his covered hand. "Listen to your brother, Erelas," I whispered. "He is wise beyond his years." I felt Thranduil chuckle behind me. Lalaith was smiling.

"I am certain he will heed your advice," Thranduil said, warmly.

As Legolas backed away, he looked to his adar. "Will you tell us what happened?"

Thranduil nodded. "I will, but first I wish to speak with Aldamir and Seregon for a moment. He turned me slightly more toward him and made certain he had Legolas’ attention. "I will meet you in the family dining room in a few minutes. It is time for evening meal, and I desire this family to dine together this evening. Your nana will stay with Erelas while I go with you to our meal."

Legolas looked up at his naneth. "Will you not eat, too, Nana?"

"Yes, love," she smiled. "I will stay here and have something brought to me. But I want you and Daeron to go with your adar. Noreth will see you two to bed this evening."

"May I not stay here with you?" Legolas asked.

"You need to eat, and you will rest better in your own bed. Erelas will not leave my sight," she glanced at Thranduil, "or your adar’s when he returns."

"Come, my little spring buds," Thranduil said as he stood. "We will let Erelas rest." I looked back on my sleeping cousin and added another reason for sympathy. The healers must have given him something stronger than they usually give us to sleep. He had not noticed any of us or our conversation at all. I wondered if what they had given him tasted as bad as the tea they had us drink. Poor Erelas, I shuddered, remembering the bitter taste of the sleeping draught.

As we passed the door of Seregon’s office, I noticed it stood slightly ajar. Light filtered out into the hallway. I stopped suddenly and stared at the crack. "Uncle, may I speak with Seregon for a moment?"

"Of course," he smiled. "Go ahead and when you have finished, have Seregon meet me in Aldamir’s office."

"Thank you," I muttered. I went to the door and pushed it open as quietly as I could. His assistant, Elendur, was seated at his desk.

He looked up and smiled. "Come in, Daeron."

"May I see my brother?"

He nodded and went to announce my arrival.

I found Seregon behind his desk as well. He put aside the quill he was writing with and smiled at me. "It is good to see you, little one. Have you been to visit Erelas?"

I nodded and went straight toward him. He looked a little puzzled for a moment, but held out his arms as I walked into them. He gathered me to his chest, and I sat down on one of his legs, throwing my arms around his neck. I do not know where it came from or what exactly I was thinking, but I knew all I felt was relief for Erelas and some unnamed fear for him. I burst into tears as I buried my face in his broad, and to me unmovable, shoulder of strength.

"What is wrong, little one?" he asked as he held me tighter. "Erelas will recover."

"I know," I sobbed into his hair. "I do not want you to get hurt, too."

"Oh," he crooned as if he suddenly understood far more than I did. He ran his hand over my shaking back. "I am well," he said. He pushed me back slightly to look at me. "I promise to always be careful and do everything within my power to stay safe. You and Naneth are far too important to me to not do so."

"But," I hiccoughed, "even then sometimes bad things happen. Erelas was being careful, was he not?"

"Yes, I am certain he was, and you are right, sometimes things are beyond our control. But I will never willingly place myself in a danger I cannot handle." He smiled sadly at me. "Sometimes all we have is faith in the Valar that they will look over us and keep us safe. It is warrior’s life to be in the face of danger. You know this."

I nodded.

"But we work hard to keep our skills sharp and at ready. That is why we have you and all the other young ones train so strenuously. We do everything within our power to prevent the loss of an Elf’s life."

"Still, it happens," I said. "Ada was lost, and he was one of the best."

"Yes, Adar was one of the best warriors I have ever known. He was skilled beyond measure and brave and true. I do not know why he had to die, Daeron. I have asked myself that many times. But I will say this: Adar loved his duty. He gave his life doing something he fully believed in. He made a sacrifice that aided in seeing you and Nana and me safe. I think, if we could ask him, he would say that he would do it again."

"He would chose to leave us?" I asked, astonished at this thought.

"No, Daeron, he would not chose to leave. He would chose to protect us, even if it meant he had to stand between us and the evil that took his life."

"Seregon," I said, running my fingers over the shoulder seam of his tunic. "What happened to Adar?"

Seregon’s eyes became a little glazed as he thought back over his memory of the events. At least, I thought that was where his mind traveled, for he looked distant as if he were watching something unfold that I could not see. "We knew that there had been a change in the forest to our south. The king was concerned and felt it was time that we investigate what stirred in our woods. He and Adar led us to the southern regions in search of the source of this change."

"You were there?" I asked, the shock of this knowledge leaving me feeling slightly lightheaded.

He nodded solemnly. "Even the king felt he needed to see for himself what threatened the peace of the forest. Thranduil can sense things about his realm in a way that none of us can truly understand. He is connected by love and devotion, and as the bearer of this responsibility, he felt his presence was required. Adar worried for his safety and attempted to dissuade him from going. But Thranduil would not be discouraged from what he saw as his duty. He commanded Aldamir to stay behind to ensure continued rule if things went ill for him, but he would not stay. The king asks nothing of his warriors that he would not do himself. Erelas was still a novice at the time, and it would not have been prudent to leave such a burden upon one so young. You and Legolas were mere babes. I was allowed to go as a captain of our small force. And things did go ill for us on that mission. We ran into a band of orcs. They were small in number and easily dispatched by us, but before the battle had ended they were joined by a larger group. We had already spent our arrows in the first assault and had taken to the ground with our blades. We were sorely outnumbered, and it appeared for a time that none of us would escape. Thranduil and Adar battled fiercely at one another’s sides until they were separated by the sheer force of the combat. I fought at the side of another warrior whom I had known since we were elflings. He was felled by an orc, and I was left to fend off three of the enemy. Thranduil moved to intercept one of the orcs who sought to corner me in a thicket. More orcs rushed him, wounding him in the side. As soon as possible, Adar came to our aid, but a wounded Thranduil and I continued to try to battle a number far too great even for the skills of one so fierce in battle as Thranduil. I was losing ground, and Thranduil was being pushed further from me. Adar dispatched two of the orcs battling Thranduil just as I stumbled and fell beneath the fierce attack of the enemy. I had been wounded in my shoulder but continued to try and ward off their blows as best I could. Adar came to my aid, swinging his blade like the wind cutting through a field of wheat. He slew orcs in a path to me only to find me losing my battle quickly. Just as an orc raised high his blade to finish me, Adar grabbed him behind and slit his throat. But in doing so, he turned his back to the remaining orcs, and they attacked him. I managed to get back on my feet. Thranduil and I, though both of us were bleeding heavily, managed to finish the small group that surrounded us. Our remaining warriors fought valiantly, and finally the orcs turned and ran, but not without a heavy cost to us. Of our group of twenty-five, nine were dead, and there was not one of those who lived who was not wounded in some manner. Thranduil’s guard had taken heavy losses. Five of the nine dead were of the Fifteen. Adar passed to the safe keeping of Mandos before we could aid him."

There were no words for the rush of emotion I felt. Adar had died to save Seregon. I could not imagine how my brother felt about this. I wanted to know, but I could not ask him such a question. The pain in his eyes was enough for me to see that he would never forget the sight of his own adar being cut down. Still I needed something more, but I did not know exactly what it was. "Was Adar awake? Did he say anything?"

Seregon shook his head slightly. "No, little one. He was gone before I could reach him."

Never before had I felt such a heaviness as I felt in my chest at that moment. It was if the entire weight of this battle that had taken my adar had come to sit upon me, and it would be mine to carry for all eternity.

I had heard Naneth and Seregon say before that they could sense Adar still. The bond of a husband and wife is so close that I am not surprised that Nana feels Ada’s presence at times. Seregon had the opportunity to know Adar, and while I am not surprised that he is still connected to him, I have always felt somewhat alone in that I cannot sense Ada like he can. I have no memories to draw upon to find the bond. Nana says that Adar and I do share a bond; I am just not old enough yet to know how to reach it. He was gone before I had even learned to walk. Since he was not able to be with us in the first years of my life, I think our bond must be weaker than his is to Seregon. I cannot feel something I have never experienced. I do not know how I will ever find my way to him.

"Daeron," Seregon said as he ran his hands lightly over my arms. "You have been through a lot these past days. You have seen things that I know are upsetting to you. Do not be discouraged. You are not expected to understand everything or to know how to deal with all you have experienced. You are young and have many years before you need worry about what being a warrior will mean." He stopped for a moment and gazed steadily into my eyes. "Daeron, you do not have to be a warrior. There are many honorable paths for an Elf to take. You may find as you grow that your interest and talents lie elsewhere."

"But I want to be warrior," I said. "I am good with a blade. I will be even better as I grow."

Seregon smiled sadly. "Yes, you are talented. But I would not have you be unhappy if the time comes and you wish to do something else. You must follow your heart."

I nodded. I knew that I would not have to be a warrior, but I would be. Perhaps, I thought, I should not tell him that again at this time. I did not want him to worry about me.

"You have plenty of time to decide what you want to be. In the meantime, there are many people who love you and will protect you. You need not worry."

Seregon was right. I did not need to worry about things I had no true understanding of for awhile yet. I had seen a glimpse into a world I knew was out there, but I had never witnessed until recent events had brought the unsettling truths of Arda to me. It was not a good place. But it was not a bad place either. I did not think I was ready to walk in that uncertain world just yet. I had been merely a visitor to this grownup world, and I was most grateful I did not have to battle orcs or strange men until I was ready. Mostly, I was grateful for those who would shield me and allow me to grow up enough to be ready to stand my ground. And when the time came, I would stand my ground. I would make my Adar proud. And maybe, just maybe, I would find a way to touch the presence of my adar.