The return to Caras Galadhon was carried out through the night and its rain, merging into an equally wet and dismal morning. Shortly before the midday hour, the patrol reached the borders of Lothlorien; and by late afternoon, they were passing through the gates of the great city. Here, the bulk of the patrol was released and sent to pass the uncertain hours in manners of their own choosing. All of them chose to return to the patrol's talans. Only Maynfeln, Ardamil, and Haldir's brothers went with the injured to Meltheon's talans. Haldir, litter-borne and lying on his side, had slept almost the entire time, waking only at scattered intervals to gaze fixedly ahead and perhaps mumble a string of incomprehensible words. Legolas, on foot, had not left Haldir's side once during the journey.
At Meltheon's talans, Legolas was handed over to one of the healer's assistants and taken into a separate room to have his arm tended, for Ascalonn, in the patrol's hurry, had done only a quick field dressing. It took some seconds to convince Legolas to part from Haldir, and even then it was only with a certain gentle forcefulness on the part of the assistant.
Legolas was a bad patient. He was anxious, short, and so absorbed in worrying about what was going on in the next room that he made himself quite disagreeable. Yet, his attending healer, an elf by the name of Fintherfin, was all patience and kindness, while at the same time, insistent and thorough. When he had finished, with the prognosis that the wound should heal in "ten days or so", he told Legolas that he was free to go. But when Legolas made it clear that he desired to go into the room where Haldir was being treated, Fintherfin resisted.
"Meltheon said only healers and his brothers," he explained.
"Ardamil went in. He is not his brother," Legolas pointed out.
"Not by blood," Fintherfin replied, "But by everything else that matters." He put a hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Legolas. I can not let you go in there."
"Then I will wait here." He sat resolutely on one of the benches outside the room.
"That you may do."
And so, Legolas waited in the eerie silence of the healer's talans. Fintherfin had gone in to assist Meltheon, and now Legolas found himself alone with his thoughts. The solitude actually felt comfortable to him at the moment, for it afforded him the opportunity to dispense with the strong face he had felt obliged to show to the patrol. When they had first appeared in the cave, Legolas had been too terrified to worry about concealing his weakness. But on the journey back, he had noticed that the elves around him, while clearly unsettled and fearful on their captain's account, bore themselves with stalwart determination. Legolas had done his best to adopt this demeanor, and he had been successful with it for the past eighteen hours. Now, he wanted nothing more than to throw it aside and indulge his grief - for even a few seconds, if that was all he was to have.
He was not sure how much time had passed before he heard the sound of a voice addressing him. Looking up, he saw Meltheon standing before him. Legolas got to his feet, and even though he could not find his voice, it was of little matter. Meltheon could see the question in his eyes.
"He will be alright," the healer announced.
"Are you sure?"
"I am sure. He is a captain of the Galadhrim. And he is Haldir. It will take some time, but he will recover. His injuries are no longer life-threatening. The immediate danger has passed," Meltheon replied. "You should go to your talan and get some sleep, Legolas."
"I would like to see him," Legolas resisted.
"He is still being tended," Meltheon replied. "And after that, he will need much rest."
"I will not disturb him. I only wish to see him."
Meltheon frowned. "Legolas, my wisdom is not that of a child. Your presence would hardly be restful for Haldir."
Legolas startled at this remark. "Why do you say that?"
"He was asking for you-"
"He has been awake?"
"On and off, for a few minutes," Meltheon replied. "But that was time enough. He had only one concern, and that was you."
"Then why was I not taken to see him, to ease his concern?" Legolas asked angrily.
Meltheon regarded Legolas gravely. "Seeing you might have eased his concern for your safety, but it would not have been conducive to rest."
Legolas realized he was trembling, but he could do nothing to stop it.
Meltheon's voice was very quiet, very calm. "What happened between you and Haldir?" Met by Legolas's stunned silence, the healer pressed a little harder.
"He is feverish and in his delirium says some curious things," he said. "He blames himself for what happened. This, in itself, is not surprising, given his position and his responsibility for you. But it is the nature of his guilt that raises questions." He sat down, urging Legolas to sit beside him, and folded his large, delicate hands neatly in the center of his lap. "He said he knew your feelings. He said his courage had failed him and he had not discouraged you. He said that more than once - that he should have discouraged you." A long pause ensued, during which Meltheon's concentrated gaze attempted to penetrate Legolas's silence. "I have been wondering what he meant by these words."
Legolas shifted nervously. "You said he was delirious. He might have been speaking nonsense."
"That is possible, but unlikely." Meltheon's voice grew low. "What are these feelings of yours, Prince Legolas, that he should later feel guilty that he had not discouraged them?"
Legolas remained silent.
"You would not be the first to become enraptured by him," Meltheon said with thoughtful compassion. A slight grin curled his lips. "I have known Haldir . . . since he was in his mother's womb. I brought him into this world, and I have watched him all these centuries, age upon age, for he is truly remarkable to observe. It is impossible to deny the effect that he has on many of his fellow elves. He is aware that others are drawn to him, though he seems to have managed very well - up until now."
Legolas looked troubled. Meltheon's words seemed to be confirming his worst suspicions - about Haldir and about himself. "Why are you telling me this?"
Meltheon's face took on a patronly softness. "I told you that I am observant. You and Haldir have been companions almost since your first meeting. You carry your admiration for him openly. But now I am worried, because something has changed. Even Ardamil, Orophin and Rumil noticed it."
"Of course, something has changed," Legolas replied. "I watched them rape him."
"Had it changed before the attack?"
Legolas was growing flustered. "I think it would be better for you to ask these questions of Haldir, as he is the one who spoke the words that gave rise to your suspicions."
Meltheon regarded Legolas for a long moment. When he spoke again, it was not what Legolas had expected to hear. "Have a care, Legolas Greenleaf, that you do not become his weakness. You might do more harm than good to the both of you." He stood up. "Go now. Get some rest. You will be able to see him in a few days."
Legolas stared after Meltheon as he went back into Haldir's room. When, at last, he left the healer's talans, he had no idea where to go. He knew he simply could not face the rest of the patrol yet. He desired no company; in fact, he wanted only to be alone to try to sort through his jumbled thoughts. His wanderings led him, unsurprisingly, to Haldir's talan. A peculiar feeling came over him as he entered into the dark room. The two lanterns on either side of the door opposite were still burning. Haldir never let them go out. To the left was the statue of Aluvater. To the right the great glassworks and the instrument of the Ainur.
'Will you take his place?' The words echoed in his head.
Legolas paused in the middle of the room.
'We heard the song in the night, but it was not his voice that led it. You were the singer.'
It was a reminder that he had a large promise to keep to a small creature. But even more, he could not deny the pull that drew him to kneel before the statue. He bowed his head and began to chant in prayer. It was not effortless, for his thoughts strayed far from the present. The words of Meltheon demanded his attention. And beyond those were the things Nenstil and Flagon had said, and the words of the yew and the wind, and of Ardamil. And finally, there was Haldir himself.
Still, there was a greater distraction, and that was the image of horror - a picture chiseled into his mind, affording no peace or respite. It was the image of a body broken and abused . . . an image of the most unlikely of victims.
These things pulled at him from all directions, and he could not fight them. In frustration, at last, he slumped back on his heels and allowed himself to succumb to the competing demands of his mind and body. He felt something creeping up his throat, and he recognized it immediately as the desire to let loose all the emotions he had been reining it. The grief burst from his lips in a mournful, agonized fit of sobbing. He feared such misery would rend him from top to bottom, yet he was unable to stop. It was as if something had been loosed inside him, and he had no idea how to bind it up again.
And then he heard it. The sound of the prayer he had been trying so hard to sing. So surprised was he to hear it, that at first he did not recognize the voice.
It was his own.
Somehow, in some way beyond conscious thought or desire, he had risen above the morbidity of his own thoughts. Or perhaps he had not risen, so much as he had been lifted, pulled out of the mire.
He could hear other voices now, as well, and he wondered if they had been singing all along, only he had been too absorbed in his own grief to notice them. He strained to listen for the one and only voice that he truly wanted to hear. If he listened carefully, he thought he could discern among the choirs, the voice of the wind, the yew, and even the hornet's tiny voice. Yet, he could not hear Haldir. Now, his concentration grew more focused, and still he could not find Haldir's voice anywhere in the symphony that surrounded him. This confused him greatly, for these were not physical voices. They were the voices of souls. And if they were the voices of souls, why then could he not hear Haldir? Whether the body was whole or injured, the mind conscious or unconscious, the soul was the one true immortal-ever responsive and aware, never sleeping.
The silence where once had been Haldir's voice could only mean that Haldir was choosing not to sing. And for this, Legolas sang all the stronger, with all the more conviction. He would make Haldir sing, or if not, he would compensate for the absence with his own voice. It was, perhaps, a measure of desperation that drove him to press further and further, until the music was so powerful that he felt as if it were guiding him, instead of other way around. He no longer had to think of what he was doing. He was only along for the journey now.
And then, like a wave crashing upon the shore, it was over. The prayer ended. The music stopped. Legolas collapsed into a sitting position on the floor. Every limb trembled with exhaustion. He rested his elbow on one knee, and his forehead against the palm of his hand. He did not know why, but he was crying again.
A hand fell gently on his shoulder, and he startled. Looking up, he saw Mythis standing behind him.
"I am sorry, Legolas. I did not mean to startle you," Mythis apologized.
"It is alright," Legolas replied, getting to his feet and turning to hide his face in a moment of self-consciousness. That was when he noticed that all the lanterns in the room had kindled to life, and he was amazed. He had seen Haldir do this before, but . . .
"I have never heard any elf other than Haldir sing that prayer," Mythis remarked.
Legolas's response was somber. "I felt I needed it. And . . . I had a promise to fulfill."
There was silence then, which Mythis broke in a cautious voice. "How are you holding up?"
Legolas took a long, deep breath. "I am not sure," he answered honestly. "Not very well, I think."
"Did Meltheon tell you anything about Haldir?"
Legolas firmed up his jaw before replying. There were things Meltheon had said that he had no intention of passing on . . . to Mythis or anyone else. "Only that Haldir would not die from his injuries. He would not let me see him. He said in a few days perhaps." His stance, his voice, his entire demeanor told the story of this denial; he was caught between too many conflicting emotions to be able to identify one from the other, but Mythis could sense the anger and the hurt, the longing and the sadness.
"I am sure Meltheon is doing what is best for Haldir's recovery," Mythis said, placing an arm about Legolas's shoulders. "And I think I may be able to see what will be helpful for you. You are exhausted and in great need of rest. The least I can do is get you cleaned up, put some food in your stomach, and get you some sleep. Come, I will prepare you a bath."
"That is good of you, Mythis, but do not feel that you must take care of me," Legolas replied.
"Someone must look after you, and I volunteered for the job. The patrol did not think you should be alone, but we also thought that all of us would be overwhelming for you. So, it is just me."
"How did you know where to find me?" Legolas asked, as Mythis led him out onto the colonnade.
"There were not many probabilities," Mythis answered. "And I decided that you probably wanted to be alone, but some place where you felt safe and comfortable."
"I am glad you found me," Legolas admitted. "Your company is much appreciated."
Mythis began filling a large urn with water that had been heating in a solar basin. "The truth is I also needed a little time away from the others. None of us really knew what to say or how to act with each other. We all were sitting around the talan, not talking. It was awkward."
"That I understand," Legolas said, shedding his clothes as Mythis poured the water into the tub. "It was awkward at the healer's. I wanted to see Haldir. I wanted to see him very much, but Meltheon refused. He let Ardamil in, but not me. That . . . that was not good for me. I had to wait outside while they tended him, and in the end, Meltheon told me it was best that I go get some rest and come back in a few days. I was there when he was caught in the rockslide. I was there when the men attacked him. But I am not permitted to be with him now. You do not know how that upsets me."
Mythis continued filling the tub. "I think I can understand some part of it. I also would like to be with him. We all would. But it simply is not possible. And as I said, Meltheon must have a good reason. He would not shut you out just to be cruel. Here, it is ready. Get in, and I will make something to eat."
They did not talk while Legolas bathed and Mythis cooked. Mythis actually proved to be a very good cook, although he left the cooking area in complete disarray. They spoke little as they ate; but afterwards, as they sat around the brazier in the center of the talan, Legolas realized he did not want to be alone with his thoughts, and so he shared them.
"I can not get the image out of my head," he said.
Mythis did not look at him. "What image?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.
When Legolas did not reply, Mythis looked up and their eyes met in a moment of comprehension.
"Neither can I," Mythis admitted. "I do not think any of us ever will." A look of pain came into his features. "It was a terrible thing to happen . . . especially to Haldir. I do not know how he will come through this. Centuries of fidelity and obedience . . . denial, preserving himself . . . all gone in an instant. I do not know what this will do to him, to his vow."
Legolas knitted his brows in puzzlement. "His vow?"
A look of mild surprise crossed Mythis's face. For a moment he was silent, unsure how to proceed. Could it be that, after all these months, Legolas did not know the most crucial and defining aspect of Haldir's life? At last, he replied with a question of his own. "You genuinely do not know of what I speak?"
"I do not."
"After all these months with him, all the time you have spent with him, praying and worshipping with him, you do not know of the vow that binds him?"
The voice of the yew tree and the wind sounded in Legolas's mind, their incredulity over Legolas's lack of knowledge regarding Haldir. His blank stare prompted Mythis to continue.
"He has not told you, then? That is perplexing. We were all quite certain that he was preparing you to follow in his footsteps. But if he will not tell you, I will; for it is a matter of great importance if you are to truly know Haldir. How can you understand what that attack meant for him if you do not understand what he is." He paused for a moment, but before he could continue, there came the sound of another voice from the doorway. Both elves turned to see Lord Celeborn standing there. They jumped to their feet, but Celeborn, entering the talan, waved them at ease.
"Sit, please. Do not make yourselves uncomfortable on my account. I have only come to see how you are doing," the elf lord said, crossing the talan with long, elegant strides. "I went to see Haldir, and then to the Wide Patrol's talans." He looked at Mythis. "They told me you had gone to look for Legolas. Apparently, the same instinct that led you here led me, as well."
"Yes, my lord," Mythis replied with deference.
Legolas, however, had little semblance of paying the respect that was due. "You saw Haldir?"
"Shortly after you left, it would seem," Celeborn replied, sitting down. Both Legolas and Mythis sat as well.
"Was he any bit changed?" Legolas asked.
"He was asleep - a natural sleep." Celeborn looked at the two young elves before him. They both appeared completely thrown off by his arrival. They were suffering from what they had witnessed - Legolas, especially. For although Mythis was not much older than Legolas, he had benefited from his time under Haldir's tutelage. He was still a fairly rambunctious elf, not given much to calculated thought, but full of energy with a generous heart. Legolas, on the other hand, was simply still green, Wide Patrol experience not withstanding. They were actually a good match under the circumstances, for it was very possible that Mythis's natural buoyancy and resilience might bolster Legolas's spirit.
Still, from the sound of it, Celeborn had walked in on them in the middle of an interesting conversation - one which Celeborn felt was beyond Mythis's ability or duty to handle. Unlike Mythis, Celeborn was not at all surprised that Haldir had kept his vow a secret from Legolas. The elf lord had seen the doubt that had mingled with the hope in Haldir's eyes. As much as Haldir had tried to convince himself that what he wanted to believe was true, there had remained a quiet yet persistent uncertainty. It was that uncertainty, that grain of fear that had held Haldir silent on the more difficult aspects of his life of devotion.
It would be told now - not by Haldir, and not under the best of circumstances. But events had transpired that made it any further delay impossible.
"I am sorry to have walked in on your conversation, but now I believe it was a good thing that I did," Celeborn said thoughtfully. "What Mythis was going to tell you, Legolas, is that Haldir is consecrated." He spoke plainly, knowing that the flood of questions was about to begin.
The word sounded strange to Legolas. "Consecrated?"
"To Aluvater."
Legolas stared in silence for several seconds, then he asked in a subdued and uncertain voice, "What does that mean? What does this 'consecration' entail?"
Celeborn was slow to reply, choosing his words carefully. "He has dedicated his life to the service of Aluvater. Everything he does, even his duty with the patrol, is offered to Aluvater, to bring Him glory. The understanding of his sort of life is lost to all but him and those like him . . . only there are no more of his kind-not in Middle Earth, at least." A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "Haldir has . . . set himself aside, forsaking all possibility for earthly companionship."
"Earthly companionship?" Legolas was even more confounded. "By that, you must mean something other than friendship and love, for Haldir has both of those in abundance."
Celeborn grimaced. "Mythis, would you give us a moment?"
"Yes, my Lord," Mythis replied, rising. He headed for one of the nests, higher up in the tree, out of hearing range.
"I asked him to leave, because he already knows what I am going to tell you. He does not need to hear it again," Celeborn announced. He saw the look of apprehension on Legolas's face. He would not be able to find a graceful, gentle way of saying this, and so he fell back on directness. "Would it surprise you to learn that Haldir has never been bedded?"
Legolas stared, slack-jawed, and yet he was not greatly astonished - or rather, he was astonished, but at his own failure to come to this knowledge on his own. The fact that Celeborn felt the need to bring this to his attention made him flush with embarrassment. How much did the Lord of Lorien already know about Legolas's feelings for Haldir?
"He is chaste," Celeborn went on. "It is a sign, a pledge of his faithfulness. Nothing can come before Aluvater. No thing and no one. That has caused him some problems in the past, but nothing like this. When I went to visit him just now, even though he slept, I could feel his hopelessness. Everything has been lost, destroyed - or so he fears."
Legolas spoke in a whisper. "I had no idea."
Celeborn looked doubtful. "Did you not?"
"I-I knew he was . . . different, but I . . . " he stammered through the words. "But-but I did not know of his vow. If I had . . . oh, Elbereth, if only I had known!" He felt his chest tighten as he recalled the events on the cliff and in the cave.
"It would not have changed anything," Celeborn stated.
Legolas did not speak right away. He was quite certain it would have changed everything. At last, he asked, "And he chose such a life freely?"
"In the first days, the Consecration was passed on to first-born sons and taught from uncle to first-born nephews. For reasons I can not discern, the practice had fallen off by the beginning of the Second Age. Perhaps parents felt the life of Consecration was too demanding for their sons. Or perhaps the sons found it too demanding. Whatever the cause, the practice had all but faded when Hevereth took Haldir under instruction. We were not sure Efeneth-Haldir's father-was going to agree to the Consecration, but Haldir's mother insisted on it. Vilthuril was strong in her devotion and adamant that her first-born be consecrated. Haldir was the sun in her sky, the greatest joy in her life. She yearns for him even now, despite the peace and pleasures of Valinor." Celeborn paused. He looked very grave, very sad. "Since Hevereth left these lands more than fifty years ago, I have not encountered any of the Consecrated other than Haldir. He is quite alone in that respect." His gaze fell fixedly upon Legolas. "And then you came to Lothlorien. You hung on his every word; and by your own admission, wanted to be just like him. You learned the prayers, worshipped with him. And suddenly, he was no longer alone. He had a hope. You are that hope."
Legolas was dumbfounded. He swallowed with effort. "His hope for . . . what?"
"He hopes you will follow his path," Celeborn replied. "He is hoping you will seek Consecration."
Legolas blanched. He struggled to keep his voice under control. "He-he has told you this?"
"He has."
Legolas did not know what to make of this revelation. In a strange way, it was incredibly flattering. Yet, it was inconceivable that Haldir's kindness, his friendship, the love he had shown Legolas had all been conducted with the primary purpose of luring him into a life of . . . consecration. The thought of such a life had never even remotely entered Legolas's thoughts. He could not even fathom its meaning-its appeal still less-to any elf; least of all, Haldir: Haldir, who was so physical and sensual, who enjoyed the company of other elves every bit as much as solitude and quiet, who had chosen as a mark of his fidelity the granting of a kiss.
At last, in an uncertain voice, Legolas replied, "He never said any of this to me."
"He was not sure how you would react," Celeborn replied. "And he was advised that his hopes were most probably unfounded."
"Who told him that?"
"I did. Ardamil, as well."
Legolas dropped his head into his hands. "How can all of this be, and yet I did not see it."
"You are not the first. There is something about Haldir that blinds even some of the wisest elves to the obvious. The sun is not dangerous, unless you look directly at it," Celeborn explained. He sat quietly for a long time, observing Legolas, whose manner had grown detached and inward. At last, he said, "Your father comes. I sent word to him of what happened. I told him you were not seriously injured, but he will come."
Legolas raised his head. "Thank you, my Lord. I feel his absence most keenly right now."
"I will leave you now and send word upon your father's arrival," Celeborn said, standing up. He ran his hand over Legolas's head. "This is not the time for you to grow wary of Haldir. It is not the time for you to retreat from him. You know now what that attack meant to him. What it will do to him remains to be seen, but he can not manage this on his own. Of that, I am sure. Whatever you decide regarding his hopes for you, you must not abandon him now."
"I would never leave him, unless he desired me to do so," Legolas replied. "Yet, I am at a loss to understand why, if I am so indispensable, I was not permitted to see him at the healer's, even though he asked for me."
"He was in grave condition and highly agitated. Meltheon made the right decision," Celeborn said. "But once he has had a chance to rest and . . . get his sentiments back under control, then he will need to see you." A pause. "I will see myself out. And Legolas . . . it would be best for you not to go the healer's until summoned. You will only make yourself wretched waiting outside a door which you are not permitted to enter."
With that, Lord Celeborn was gone. Shortly thereafter, Mythis came trotting lightly down the rope from the nest. When he got to the bottom, he found Legolas on the colonnade, sitting on the balustrade with the carelessness of dejection.
"Shall I leave you in peace?" Mythis asked, coming to stand beside him.
Legolas turned to face him with an expression of the deepest sadness. "There is no peace anymore, Mythis."
Thranduil well remembered the last time he had set foot within the borders of Lothlorien. Now, as he entered the Golden Wood once again, the centuries melted away. It was as if nothing had changed, and perhaps nothing had. The rest of the world was in turmoil, but in Lorien, all was peace - or at least, so it appeared. It was as if the great mellyrns formed a kind of sanctuary against the wickedness that was spreading over Middle Earth.
And yet, Thranduil knew that there was at least one thing not so idyllic within these borders. Elves could still be injured. Fears were not without a foothold here. And a king's son might still depend upon his father for comfort. When word had reached Thranduil that there had been trouble and that Legolas had been injured, although not seriously, the Mirkwood King had not hesitated in his preparations for departure. It was not the nature of Legolas's injury that had drawn Thranduil out of the dark northern forests, but rather the circumstances under which Legolas had been injured and the report that his captain had taken the worst of it. Thranduil was not unaware of Legolas's attachment to his mentor. In letter after letter, Legolas had waxed eloquent about the merits and perfections of the guardian named Haldir. Thranduil had no recollection of the elf from any of his previous visits, but he was predisposed to like any elf that his son so highly esteemed. Upon learning, in Celeborn's latest dispatch, that this Haldir had been severely injured and abused, Thranduil knew immediately what his son must be suffering on the guardian's account. He had determined instantly to journey to Lorien at the greatest speed. Three days after setting out, his party of three-himself and two guards-came to the borders of the southern realm, where they were met by a patrol and escorted to the river crossing. From there, two members of Celeborn's household guard accompanied him to the private quarters of the lord and lady.
Celeborn greeted him with somber delight. "It is an honor to have you once again in our realm. I only wish it were under more pleasant circumstances."
"Celeborn, Galadriel, it is good to see you again," Thranduil said, perhaps somewhat shortly. Pleasantries were not high in his list of interests at the moment.
Galadriel, seeing the tenseness in Thranduil's expression, dispensed with any further formalities. "We will not detain you a moment longer. You desire to see Legolas, and we know that he has been waiting anxiously for your arrival. We have someone to take you to him." She looped her arm through his and walked him to the antechamber through which he has passed on his way in.
There sat an elf, whom Thranduil had seen upon entering, but to whom he had paid no attention. Now the elf rose as Galadriel presented him to Thranduil.
"This is Ardamil," she introduced. "He is subaltern of the Wide Patrol, the company Legolas has been training with. And he is a friend of Legolas. Ardamil, this is Thranduil, King of Mirkwood and Legolas's father."
"Your Lordship," Ardamil acknowledged with a bow. When he raised his eyes to take in the face of the elf before him, he was struck by the similarity between father and son. Thranduil was an elf of stature with piercing eyes and long, thin tresses the color of steel, which he wore in exactly the same manner as Legolas. He was more solid and broad-shouldered than his son - a sign of his greater strength and maturity. And yet, in his manner was detectable the same impetuous, indefatigable lust for life that was one of Legolas's defining characteristics.
"Ardamil will take you to Legolas and then show you to your talans whenever you wish," Galadriel went on. "We will not keep you any longer."
"You are very gracious," Thranduil said with a slight nod in Galadriel's direction, then to Ardamil. "Take me to my son."
Ardamil led the way from the talan into the labyrinth of Caras Galadhon. He moved quickly and perhaps without as much hospitality as he might have offered; but the truth was that he was not happy with the assignment. For the past three days, he had not left Haldir's side, but for a moment here and there. Then this morning, Celeborn had paid a visit to the healer's - not his first - to announce to Ardamil that he was being given the honor and responsibility of escorting Thranduil. The idea of leaving Haldir was not at all agreeable to Ardamil, but Celeborn was not one to be argued with. But what had made the matter worse was that only seconds after Celeborn had left, Haldir had woken up - fully and in complete control of his senses for the first time since the return to Caras Galadhon. Ardamil had spent less than an hour with him before being summoned to the lord and lady's private talans. And that hour had been perplexing and painful.
At Meltheon's inquiry, Haldir had recounted in detail all that he had suffered. His manner had been indifferent, almost glib. If nothing else, it had been completely unnatural. When asked about the pain, his response had been cavalier, "I have known worse." He inquired after Legolas with nothing more than what sounded like a casual curiosity. He studiously avoided eye contact, even with his brothers. And when Orophin placed a tender kiss on his forehead, his expression was without emotion. He had spoken only once to Ardamil, his tone very nearly careless. "You are smarter than I am." Ardamil had only stared at him in stunned silence, to which he responded by adding, "Who else should I blame but myself?" The entire experience had been horrible. It had been the first indication that the wounds suffered by Haldir went deeper and were much more complicated than even anticipated. A stranger had taken up residence.
Being forced to leave Haldir at such a moment had been tantamount to torture for Ardamil. The only thing that made his current duty tolerable was that he would see Legolas. Although the bulk of his concern and energy had been focused on Haldir, there had been moments when Ardamil had thought about Legolas and how he was handling things. Ardamil had been told that Mythis was looking after him, and this gave some little peace of mind. Mythis was conscientious and well-suited to the task. Still, it would be good to see him. Or, at least, this is what Ardamil hoped.
He led the way up to Haldir's talan and opened the door. "Mythis? Legolas?" he called out, walking through the dark room. Thranduil followed behind.
Entering the main chamber, they both caught sight of Legolas at the same moment. He had been sitting on the colonnade, gazing out to the north. But now, seeing his father, he was on his feet.
"Atar!" He cried, running across the bridge and nearly collapsing into his father's arms. He sobbed openly with no sense of self-consciousness.
Thranduil held his youngest son in a close embrace, simultaneously moved to tears of his own in response to Legolas's display of emotion, and at the same time, consumed with wonderment at the changes in his son.
A long time passed before either of them spoke. Ardamil regarded them silently, nodding an acknowledgement to Mythis, who had been sitting quietly on the opposite side of the colonnade and now came to join Ardamil in the doorway.
At last, Thranduil's voice could be heard, strong and soothing. "I came as quickly as I could. I would not let you go through such a thing alone."
Legolas said nothing but sunk deeper into his father's embrace. Even across the distance, both Ardamil and Mythis could feel the sense of comfort and security that Legolas experienced in his father's presence. It was possible to see, in Thranduil, Legolas's future: a bold, powerful elf, yet one still capable of tenderness and compassion. And yet, there was another element now at work in Legolas: an element entirely different from anything observable in his father. And that other element was easy identifiable to the two Lorien elves: it was the influence of Haldir-the aspect of quiet self-containment.
At length, Thranduil maneuvered Legolas over to the living area, guided him to sit down on the divan, then sat beside him. Glancing up to see Ardamil and Mythis still standing in the doorway, Thranduil asked, "May they join us?"
"Yes, yes, they are my friends," Legolas replied. His gaze lingered for a few seconds on Ardamil, who looked abject and forlorn; but his father's voice drew his attention.
"How are you doing?"
"I am well," Legolas replied.
"You do not look well," Thranduil stated. "You look tired and sad."
"I am worried," Legolas admitted. "I have not been allowed to see Haldir. Meltheon, the healer, thinks it is best that I do not see him yet."
Thranduil caressed his son's cheek. "And he is probably correct. I know how hard that must be on you, but it is not our place to question the healer's guidance." He recognized the pleading look on Legolas's face. "I know how you feel about Haldir. Your letters were filled with admiration for him. I am looking forward to meeting the elf who has so impressed my child. But I will not be part of anything that may slow his healing. You will have to be patient, Legolas."
"If I may interrupt," Ardamil began. "Haldir woke up this morning. It is likely that you may be able to see him soon."
The first ray of hope beamed in Legolas's eye. "Atar?"
"The healer will send for you, I am sure," Thranduil replied gently. "I will not use my position to procure favors for my son." He leaned back, gave Legolas his full regard, then grinned with genuine joy. "I see Lorien has done very well by you. Look at you! You left barely more than an elfling, and now I see an adult before me."
Legolas managed a smile. "It is all Haldir's doing."
Thranduil nodded. "Then I have much to compliment him on. You are fully twice the more muscular than when you left Mirkwood. A certain wisdom has come into your eyes. And even though you are suffering at the moment, I can see a new strength and confidence in you."
"You should see him with a sword and knives, or riding," Mythis interjected. "Even his archery has improved, and it was already surpassing."
Thranduil felt his chest swelling with pride. "Is that so?"
"I have learned more here than I ever thought I would," Legolas replied. "Haldir has left nothing wanting. I will never be as good as he is, but . . ." His voice fell off as the words of his conversation with Celeborn came flooding back into his mind. There were things he had learned from Haldir that he could never tell his father, just as he could never divulge the hopes Haldir had entertained for him.
Thranduil's voice was compassionate. "You are tired. I want you to get some sleep. You can come to my talan."
"I would rather stay here, Atar," Legolas replied. "This is Haldir's talan."
Thranduil looked up and surveyed the open space. "It is a pleasant place. Very well, then. We will stay here. But I insist that you try to sleep."
Legolas nodded, then he looked to Ardamil and Mythis. "Will you both stay?"
The two elves changed glances, then Ardamil replied, "We will stay. I have been wanting to talk to you, to check on you; but I could not leave Haldir."
"I have missed you, as well," Legolas admitted.
"But you should sleep now. I will be here when you wake up," Ardamil assured him.
And so Legolas slept. He had his place among the pillows, and within seconds of laying his head down, he was fast asleep. It was the first decent, peaceful sleep he had had in days. Around him, his father, Ardamil and Mythis moved quietly.
After a few minutes, Ardamil motioned Mythis into the dark room.
"It is good to see you, Ardamil," Mythis said with intensity.
"And you, as well," Ardamil replied.
"How is Haldir?"
"That is what I wanted to tell you, but I am not sure Legolas could bear to hear it right now," Ardamil began. "I know he is asleep, but I do not want to take any chances." A pause. "Haldir does not act like himself. Perhaps it is too soon to say, but he-I think he is hiding."
Mythis frowned. "Hiding?"
"Pretending that he does not feel any pain," Ardamil clarified. "He related everything that had happened as if-as if he were reading a history. He is cold, distant."
"It may be as you said: it is still early," Mythis offered, but the look on his face said otherwise.
"I hope that it is all it is," Ardamil said, lighting a taper from one of the lanterns and then lighting the candles that flanked the statue of Aluvater. "But if it is not, then I am prepared to say the prayers on his behalf. I would do anything to spare him such pain. I can not bear the thought of what this is doing to him."
Mythis gave a long pause before answering. "There is someone else who can say the prayers of intercession for him."
"Yes, Legolas," Ardamil said with a slight nod. "How is he really doing?"
Mythis tilted his head in consideration. "Fairly well. He misses Haldir. He yearns for him. I keep telling him that Meltheon must have his reasons for keeping him away, but I can only hope it is doing Haldir some good, for it is doing Legolas no good at all."
"I am glad you have been with him, Mythis," Ardamil said earnestly. "He needs looking after."
"I was happy to do it. I needed the solitude, myself," Mythis replied, then added slowly, "I had an interesting conversation with him. Did you know that after all this time he did not know Haldir was consecrated?"
Ardamil sighed. "I did not think he did."
"After all the time they have spent together? All the praying together? Yet, Haldir never told him." Mythis sounded truly baffled. "Why would he keep it a secret?"
"Fear?" Ardamil put forth.
"Fear of what?"
"Fear of frightening Legolas away."
Mythis understood. "He wanted Legolas to follow after him, but was afraid if he knew what a consecrated life entailed, he would falter."
"I think he wanted more time to prepare Legolas before telling him, but now I fear everything has changed," Ardamil lamented. "I am afraid it will all be up to Legolas now. If he shows no desire to embrace Haldir's way of life, then it will mean the death of one more of Haldir's dreams."
Mythis shook his head. "I think that dream is already dead," he said in a pained voice. "Lord Celeborn told Legolas that Haldir is consecrated and explained to him what that means. I should not have been listening, but I was. Legolas was stunned. He gave no indication that he found anything desirable in what Celeborn described."
Ardamil swallowed. This was what he had feared.
"Am I interrupting?"
Ardamil and Mythis turned to see Thranduil standing just inside the doorway.
"No, my Lord," Ardamil replied. "We only came in here because we did not want to disturb Legolas. We were discussing Haldir."
Thranduil joined them. "I understood from Lord Celeborn's message that his injuries were very serious."
"Yes, they were. But he is out of danger from that standpoint," Ardamil said. "I believe he suffers more from the memory and horror of it now."
"He will not die, then?"
"Not from his injuries." Ardamil's words dropped like weights in the silence around them.
"You fear he will perish from grief?" Thranduil pressed.
Ardamil took a deep breath, sparing a glance at Mythis. "Many griefs," he replied.
"Do you really believe that, Ardamil?" Mythis asked.
"I believe he will suffer greatly, and that there will be very little we can do," Ardamil replied gravely. "He needs another like himself. Only there are none."
"What do you mean, like himself?" Thranduil asked.
Ardamil saw no point in concealing the truth. "Consecrated, my Lord."
Thranduil's expression mirrored his disbelief. "Consecrated? That is impossible. That line died out in Middle Earth centuries ago."
"That is not so, my Lord," Ardamil corrected. "Haldir's uncle was in these lands until fifty years ago, and now only Haldir is left. He is the last of that line."
Thranduil was silent for several seconds, then it was as if he were noticing the room he was in for the first time. "That would explain this room," he said quietly. "A holy room. I have not seen one of these in over an age." He began walking down one side of the room, looking at the glass panels. "I wonder that Legolas did not tell me about this aspect of his hero."
"He did not know," Mythis replied. "Not until a few days ago."
Thranduil stopped at the instrument of the Ainur. "How could he not know? It is a difficult thing to keep hidden."
"Haldir did not tell him, and Legolas was . . . " Ardamil had to be very careful with his choice of words. "Legolas did not notice, having no idea what to look for."
"Why did Haldir not tell him?"
"You would have to ask Haldir that, my Lord," Ardamil replied.
Thranduil continued his paces, studying the glass pictures with a detached sense of historic interest. At last, he remarked, "The practice died because it was an unnatural way of life."
Mythis did not like this statement. "It continues in Valinor. It is not considered unnatural there."
"That may be," Thranduil conceded. "But the fact remains that it is all but dead here in Middle Earth. If you are right and your captain needs the comfort of another of his kind, he will find that only in Valinor. That means he will have to leave these shores."
It was Ardamil who answered. "That thought had occurred to me."
"It would be heart-breaking to Legolas," Thranduil went on, stopping at the case of trinkets beside the statue of Aluvater. "He is very fond of his captain." A pause. "What are these things?"
"Relics," Ardamil replied. "Things of value to Haldir."
"Holy relics?" Thranduil asked, parting the sheer.
"Some of them," Ardamil replied.
Thranduil was silent. His eye had been drawn to the center of the case where there stood a brilliant blue vase with orange and yellow flowers on it. He recognized it immediately. Just as indignation began to rise in his mind, it was replaced with sadness. He did not have to guess how the vase ended up in the hands of the march warden instead of those of its intended recipient. He only had to wonder how difficult it was going to be to extricate Legolas from the love that he had formed. The Consecrated were not easy to replace in the affections of those who loved them, just as the attraction they presented to others was not easy to overcome.
Thranduil had long suspected a certain partiality on Legolas's part towards the elf who was his captain. That had been no cause for concern. Hero worship was how Thranduil had regarded it. But to learn that the hero was also one of the Consecrated . . . this changed everything. It presented a danger that Thranduil was not willing to expose his son to. But it also presented circumstances that required delicacy.
Tomorrow, he would pay a visit to the healer's.
Orophin's touch was soothing. And somewhere on the fringes of consciousness, Rumil's voice, singing softly, managed to keep unpleasant thoughts and memories at bay.
He was not quite awake yet, and he was not sure that he wanted to wake up. Here, in the world between sleep and waking, any pain was an illusion, any sadness an uncertainty. He knew it was Orophin stroking his arm; his brother's touch was almost a part of him, just as was Rumil's voice. Here, intended comforts were taken as such.
Slowly, the part of his mind that demanded wakefulness won out over the desire to remain asleep. He opened his eyes to see Orophin smiling down at him.
"Good morning," Orophin said.
"Is it morning already?" Haldir asked, shifting slightly beneath the weight of the coverlets.
"It is." This was also from Orophin. "Did you sleep well?"
"I think so."
"You did not wake up any time during the night," Rumil said, coming over from where he had been standing near the window. "And it would appear there were no wicked dreams."
"No dreams," Haldir confirmed. "But I still feel tired."
"Meltheon says that is to be expected. You must not try to recover too quickly, Haldir," Orophin warned. "Give your injuries time to heal. We will stay here and take care of you as long as you desire."
"Where is Ardamil? He was here yesterday," Haldir asked.
"He has gone to act as escort for a distinguished visitor," Orophin replied. "Legolas's father has come."
Haldir immediately became more alert. "Thranduil is here?"
"He arrived yesterday morning," Rumil replied.
"That is why Ardamil had to leave?" Haldir asked.
Both brothers nodded.
"But you both told me that Legolas was alright," Haldir said, his voice becoming urgent. "Why is Thranduil here?"
"Legolas is fine, Haldir," Orophin said emphatically. "I give you my word, he is fine. He will be allowed to see you soon. Meltheon did not want you getting over-excited, like you are now. Thranduil came because he received word that something terrible had happened. He wanted to be here for his son. "
Haldir averted his gaze, but Orophin placed a finger under his chin. "Just as Rumil and I are here for you."
"You are both very good to me," Haldir said, but he seemed to be growing distant again, as he had been the day before.
Seeing this, Rumil sat down beside him on the bed. "Haldir, we are here if you want to talk about it."
"I do not want to talk about it," Haldir replied.
"Tell us what we can do to help," Orophin said, almost pleading. "We can not bear to see you in such pain."
"Your presence is help enough," Haldir told them.
At that moment, the door opened and Meltheon entered with an elf who could be none other than Legolas's father. The resemblance was uncanny.
Orophin and Rumil got to their feet.
"Orophin, Rumil, Haldir . . . I would like to introduce King Thranduil of Mirkwood," Meltheon announced.
Orophin and Rumil bowed then stood in uncomfortable silence.
Meltheon left the room, and Thranduil grinned amicably. "Be at ease. I am only here because I wanted to meet the elf of whom my son has spoken so highly," Thranduil explained.
Haldir's manner was reserved and without humor. "Any report from Legolas is sure to have been exaggerated," he replied.
Thranduil regarded him appraisingly. "Perhaps, although Legolas is not known for embellishing the truth. His adoration and esteem are genuine, I am sure." There was a moment of silence, then Thranduil turned to Orophin and Rumil. "Would you mind giving us a moment?"
"As you wish, my Lord," Orophin replied, bowing. Rumil followed his lead, and the two departed.
Once alone, Thranduil permitted himself a more indulgent, more scrutinous look at the elf whose name had been the focus of every letter from his son's hand over the past eighteen months. Even bearing the signs of his suffering, the guardian was amazingly beautiful . . .
'As are all of the Consecrated," Thranduil added silently.
This one was in anguish-fully palpable anguish; yet his allure was powerful, and if his current condition had lessened its strength, Thranduil did not want to think what it must be when he was in good health and state of mind.
"Legolas must have been happy to see you," Haldir said at last, disconcerted by the elf king's blatant stare.
Thranduil smiled. "He was, but I think he would happier to see you."
"That would make me happy, as well," Haldir replied. "I suppose they will permit him to come soon."
"I am certain they will," Thranduil replied. "It is impossible that Legolas should leave Lorien without seeing you at least one more time." He watched Haldir's face for his reaction to this 'casual' announcement, and he saw what he had expected to see. Where before had shone only dullness, now there kindled the spark of fear and shock.
"Before he leaves Lorien?" Haldir repeated.
Thranduil nodded. "I have missed him," he began. "I want him to come home, and this seems like the proper time. You are his mentor, his captain; and you will certainly be many weeks recovering from your ordeal. He will not likely want to train under anyone else. This is the best time for him to return to Mirkwood."
"Have you spoken to him about this?" Haldir asked.
Thranduil heard the tremor in his voice-further confirmation of his suspicions. "Not yet," he replied. "He is still devastated by events. I do not believe he will be sound until he sees you."
"But then, would it not be cruel to remove him from Lorien so quickly?"
"It will not be so quick," Thranduil said. "We will stay some weeks. You are very important to him, and I can not pull him away so abruptly. Nor is that how I would repay you for all you have done for him. I see he is much grown - in strength, in skill, in wisdom. I have great plans for him, and I am grateful for what you have done with him."
"Do you think he will be ready to leave?" Haldir asked.
Thranduil was honest. "No. I do not think he will ever be ready to leave the one he is in love with." A pause. "But leave he must."
Haldir's ghostly color grew even more pallid. "In love?"
"In love," Thranduil confirmed.
"No, you are mistaken-"
"I know my son," Thranduil interjected. "And I know love when I see it. He is in love with you." He drew closer, leaning over the bed to pierce Haldir with a fixed gaze. "Not with your calling. With you."
Haldir opened his mouth, but words would not form.
"You are one of the Consecrated. Your friends have already told me. I wonder that Legolas never mentioned that fact in any of his letters." The Mirkwood king regarded him intensely but not unkindly.
"He-he did not know," Haldir managed to say. His voice was soft and thin. "I did not tell him."
"And he did not see it," Thranduil drew the logical conclusion, "because he was too busy falling in love with you - as so many others have done with so many others of your kind in centuries past."
Haldir lowered his eyes, and Thranduil stretched out a hand to caress his cheek. "You knew this, did you not? That he was falling in love with you? Surely, he is not the first."
Thranduil's touch threatened to obliterate every last vestige of Haldir's defenses. The elf lord was so much like his son; it was almost as if Legolas were touching him so tenderly. It was the touch that Haldir had longed for and denied - only it was not Legolas.
"He is not the first," Haldir admitted, his voice a whisper. "But he is the first one that I have not discouraged."
"And why did you not discourage him?"
Thranduil softly stroked his fingertips over Haldir's face, as if he wanted to explore every bit of the beautiful, haunted expression that regarded him with such caution. The skin beneath his fingers was both soft and rough, warm and cold. Thranduil had almost forgotten how tantalizing the Consecrated could be. If this one could have such a pull on him-an elf Lord of power and self-control; then how much stronger that pull must have been on Legolas, who was still young, impressionable, and given to a love of experience?
Haldir swallowed with effort. "Because I had hope. Hope that he would embrace the calling."
"But you never told him that."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I was afraid. I was afraid to hear him say 'no'," Haldir admitted. "I did not want to lose him."
"Legolas would not leave you unless forced to," Thranduil stated. "He would not embrace your way of life, but he would stay by your side, always hoping that you will one day return his love-"
"I can give him that-"
"No, you can not. You can give him the love of the Consecrated, not the love of a favorite. It is impossible for you, nor do I believe it is what Legolas truly wants. An elf can become confused by the Consecrated. It happened to me once, many centuries ago. I would not have Legolas go through the same thing."
Haldir was silent. He felt as if his life had been stripped naked and exposed, leaving him no secrets, no protection, and no comfort.
"But what will it do to you to see Legolas leave?" Thranduil asked, his hand now moving around to examine the still highly visible cut above Haldir's ear.
"I do not know," Haldir replied, averting his gaze.
"Your friends fear for you."
Haldir's composure began to crumble.
Thranduil pressed on. "Your chosen life has put you in a precarious situation. The one you are counting on to restore you and to bring a return of joy will not be able to fulfill those wishes. There is no one left in Middle Earth who can help you through this. You must let Legolas go and then follow your path to Valinor. There await the rest of your kind."
Silent tears had broken from Haldir's eyes as Thranduil has spoken; now, he struggled to speak. "Is this Legolas's opinion, as well?"
"You know it is not," Thranduil replied. "I have said nothing to him, and I will be able to convince him of nothing."
So, here was the horrible truth of the visit. "You want me to convince him," Haldir said quietly.
"It would make it easier for him," Thranduil said. "He can not help you, no matter how much you may wish it. The longer you hold onto this hope, the harder it will be to let go, and the more pain it will cause as you pass the years seeing your desire go unfulfilled. You have been injured in a way that very few elves can understand; and those who can are no longer in Middle Earth."
"I can not make Legolas change his mind," Haldir protested weakly.
"That is true," Thranduil agreed. "But you can make him choose."
"I do not wish to force a decision on him."
"You will not be forcing a decision. There will be no choice. He can not stay here. You must not leave that open to him." Thranduil drew his hand down over Haldir's shoulder and along his collarbone. "If you love him in the true manner of the Consecrated, you will do what you know is best for him."
"Please do not touch me like that," Haldir stammered.
Thranduil withdrew his hand. "I am sorry. It has been a surpassingly long time since I last beheld one of the Consecrated. I suppose I wanted to remember something of the feeling." A sad smile came into his features. "I was rebuffed then, as well." He stood up. "Will you try to convince Legolas?"
"I have to convince myself first," Haldir replied, his voice quaking with uncertainty. "I do not think I am-ready to lose him."
Thranduil nodded. "I understand, but whether you are ready or not, he will be leaving with me when I return to Mirkwood. I will not let him stay here. It will be easier for him if you can convince him to go." He walked to the door. "Do I have your word?"
Haldir hesitated. "You will take him away no matter what?"
"I must. It is for his own good - and yours," Thranduil replied.
Haldir trembled as he spoke. "You have my word."
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