Legolas was called before Galadriel the next morning. He stood respectfully with his head slightly bowed, for he knew how much she was held in esteem. But she rose up from her chair and took his face in her hands gently, with all the grace and affection that there was between elven peoples.
"Legolas. I am glad to meet you at last. Your brother talks so highly of you." She spoke in Sindarin, and her rich voice was queenly.
"It is an honour to be in Lothlorien. I only wish it had been in happier times."
"Yes, these are dark days. For you, young one, especially. I see it in you." She looked at him with such sympathy and warmth that, to his surprise, he felt tears start up in his eyes and was unable to reply.
"Come now. Do not be ashamed to weep. I know what has happened to you. I understand it."
He bit his lip and looked at the ground. "If you would not mind, my Lady, I wish that you do not speak of what your powers reveal to you to my father or my brother," he said. "It would break their hearts."
"The truth, prince, often finds a way of revealing itself. But be comforted. I called you here in private to offer you a vessel to pour your grief into, for you have none, and you have kept this secret from everyone – even those who have journeyed with you so far. Tell me. What do you plan to do?" Legolas shook his head helplessly.
"I do not know. Every night, I dream of him. His face, and his cruel eyes. When I think of how he used me, and how great was his delight to break my chastity, I feel as if I want to bury my knife in my own flesh."
"That is no answer," said Galadriel, and she was not alarmed by his words, but soothing. "That is no answer, and you know it."
Legolas nodded tearfully. "But what can I do? There seems to be no way out for me."
"Listen to my counsel. Your fate is inescapable, but see it not as fate. See it as a gift . . . a light that has come out of darkness. You know what I talk of, do you not?"
"Yes. I know. But it seems only a curse."
"You will think different when the time comes. But trust in those around you, who would love and support you. Do not be afraid of taking a hand when it reaches down to pull you up."
He took in a deep breath and wiped away his tears. "I will do what I can, my Lady," he said. "I will follow your wisdom, and trust in it."
"And remember this, also. The fellowship stands on a knife edge. Beware, Legolas. Keep your eyes sharp. Not all men have good intentions. You should not be too trusting. Beware."
He looked deep into her eyes and nodded. But his mind was elsewhere, still churning with the pain of what he had concealed from everyone around him.
"You seem fond of this place, as if it were once a home to you."
"A home? No, not exactly. But yes, I am fond of it."
Aragorn and Boromir were stretched out on the grass, waiting for Legolas above, in the shade of the great tree.
"It has happy memories for me," explained the ranger. "Does it not agree with you so much?"
Boromir fidgeted. "I don't like it. It's very . . .well. It's very elvish," he finished, somewhat uncomfortably. Aragorn only laughed.
"It is certainly that." He picked at the grass idly. "This was the place where Arwen and I made our vows," he said softly, almost to himself. There was a light in his eyes as if he could see the scene in front of him.
Boromir turned to him and his face was softened. "You are a lucky man, for her to make such a decision."
"I am, and I know it. It is a great sacrifice for her, and for Elrond." He paused, and then said, in a sterner tone: "Boromir, I do not mean to intrude, but listen to my counsel. Whatever your feelings for Legolas, he is not for you."
Boromir sat up instantly, and the colour fled from his face. But he endeavoured to appear unconcerned. "I don't know what you are talking about, Aragorn."
"Come on. You can barely tear your eyes from him."
Boromir was about to launch into his defence, and to deny any such thing, but the look on his companion's face was so shrewd that he knew there was no point. Instead, he let his breath out with a long sigh. "Is it so obvious?"
"To me it is. Although I do not believe that Legolas himself has noticed."
"No, he would not. He seems very innocent of such things."
"Well, most men look at him in the same way. Perhaps he is used to it." Boromir raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps." His face became tight and sullen. There were a few moments of silence, and then Aragorn spoke again:
"I do not think you have bad intentions, for you have cared for him like a true friend. Your loyalty and your attention have been admirable. But you are from two different worlds, Boromir. Although your family is noble, he is a prince of Mirkwood, and is far above you. I only say this candidly so that neither of you will be hurt. What can you hope for? That he will give up his immortality, his Princehood, his home, to live with you in Gondor? In the world of Men? Think about it, Boromir."
"I know, I know," he replied. "You have no need to remind me. I have been over it in my own mind enough times."
"But do you love him?" asked Aragorn. "Truly?"
Boromir looked at his hands. "I think I do," he admitted. "At first, I thought only of his beauty, and of what a prize he would be if he were by my side, and of how other men would envy me. I have believed I was in love many times before, and it was the same feeling." He thought guiltily of his past trysts, filled with the excitement and thrill of his own power, of making love to youths against the wall of a castle corridor, of the burning flames of passion and desire blown out in an instant and meaning nothing.
"But since he was attacked, he has been weaker, and vulnerable. For the first time in his life, I think, he has needed another person's help. I think it made him open up to me. He talks to me like his equal, like his friend. And that made me look past his beauty, and his pride, and see him as he was. It made me realise that he is loving, and brave, and kind. To see someone like that be treated so terribly – it made me angry, and it made me want to help him. And for once, I have done something good for a person without expecting anything in return. And so I think I have fallen in love with him." He shrugged, as if he were still a little puzzled by his own feelings. "Now I look at him differently. It does not matter to me that he is a great beauty, or a prince, or an elf. He is something more important than that. He is Legolas. And that is all I care about."
"Nevertheless," said Aragorn softly, "he still is a prince, and an elf. And you cannot get past that."
"I know. Only, he looks so young. And after what happened to him, he was so afraid, and so hurt. Instead of seeming like a great warrior elf, distant and remote, he seemed just like my younger brother. So you see, I had to take care of him. If my brother was weak, and hurt, and frightened, I would care for him in the same way. It was too easy for me to forget who Legolas is, because he looked so young and so scared." He sighed. "And now I don't know what to do."
Aragorn thought awhile, as he plucked some flowers and looked at them fondly. "I cannot say what he would think, if you were to reveal your feelings to him."
"But you would advise against it?"
"My mind says that I would. But I myself am engaged to an elf, and was told that I aimed too high. So I leave it up to you."
Boromir was about to ask him if he knew whether Legolas had a lover or not, when the elf himself came down to them from the tree.
"Where are the others?" he asked them.
"Asleep. The sun is hot for them. Is everything well?"
"Yes, yes."
"What did she want to talk to you for?" said Boromir curiously.
"Elvish things."
Boromir snorted. "You cannot escape so lightly. Maidens gossip all day, and then when we ask what they talk about, they laugh and say 'women's things'. So tell me honestly. Why did she call you up to her alone?"
"And I will reply just as honestly. I have no wish to tell you." He said it with a smile, but Boromir knew he was being firm, and he asked no more. He was troubled in his heart as well, for Lothlorien was indeed a strange place to him. The Lady of the Wood seemed to look at him as if she knew his eyes lingered on the elf, and his mind on the Ring. It made him feel uncomfortable and anxious, though there was no real reason why it should.
"I am becoming impatient after spending too long among elves," he told himself. "It is bad for my nerves." He would not have objected, of course, to spending more time with Legolas, who no longer seemed to count as someone different. But that was another problem altogether.
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