Title: Undone part 5 Author: Neldluva Author's Email: neldluva@hotmail.com Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, OC/OC Rating: NC 17 Summary: Now that Legolas’s travels are over, he must return to Mirkwood and face the music. Feedback: is a religious experience (sort of). Warning: mentions of MPREG, slash, angst (isn’t there always?), my personal revenge against Thranduil A/N: Well, you knew it had to come. Legolas confronts his father on the subject of his lover and his son. Can we hear some dramatic music? Sorry, I think I sort of forgot about Gimli a bit while I was writing this, so you Gimli lovers will feel a bit down. And I know it’s cliché, but Thranduil’s such a bitch. What a nasty father. Don’t worry. He redeems himself later. Watch out for angst! ~ I stirred in my seat on Arod. At last we were approaching the southern bounds of Mirkwood, soon to meet Glorfindel and Vanwalas. I felt the strangest feeling of elation, and our poor exhausted horse could not go fast enough to suit me. “Do you have a spider in your shirt?” Gimli grumbled from behind me. “You wriggle like an impatient child, Legolas. What has you so excited?” “I’m sorry, Gimli,” I apologized. “I’m just eager to see my family again.” He huffed. Over the course of the six months we had traveled together, I had revealed to him the entirety of my relationship with Glorfindel. He had understood and sympathized, but still persisted in a singularly dwarfish way of teasing me about it. “Just don’t bounce around so much,” he said. “You’re making the horse nervous.” Arod was far from nervous; indeed, he seemed to want the comfort of a warm stable as much as I wanted my own bed. Suddenly he stopped and snorted, lifting his nose to the air. “What is it now?” Gimli asked, but I was otherwise occupied. The wind carried scents to us, scents of approaching horses and Elves, the latter of which was nearly inseparable from the scent of grass and woods around us. I turned to grin at my companion. “We’ll meet them soon. They are very close.” “Oh, good,” he answered with a huff. “Then you can stop jumping around like a jackrabbit.” I laughed. Our breath turned into white clouds in the cold winter air, yet life was still present around us. The trees were merely asleep, the squirrels safely holed up in their nests, and Arod’s hooves broke through the frost covering the leaves on the ground with only the softest of crunches. At last I saw them, cresting foothills as we were just barely on the edges of Mirkwood. I set Arod to a gallop, and with a bit of reluctance he complied. Gimli was a bit less excited; I felt him hold tight to my waist as he bumped along behind me. “Slower, Elf!” he cried. “Else I will be flung from this dratted horse!” But there was no need to slow down, for we stood then with the rest of our company. All four wore warm cloaks against the cold, but they looked well enough. “Look what we’ve found, Gimli!” I said. “A pack of Elves!” There was muttering and grumbling from behind me. Vanwalas peered behind my shoulder. “Good afternoon, Gimli. How were the Caves?” “Nice enough.” Apparently, our dash had put him out of his good mood. I sighed and shook my head. “I’m afraid my friend is unable to describe the beauty we found in the Glittering Caves,” I said as I elbowed him lightly. “There were gems of every color under the Sun, and the light of a torch set them off in brilliant shining images.” “I can describe it myself, thank you very much, Legolas,” Gimli protested from his seat. He set off in a long string of dwarfish, of which I comprehended about one word in twenty. When he had finished he looked at us, realizing that we had understood very little of his speech. “I said that the quartz came in colors I’ve never seen before, and that the emeralds were particularly lovely.” “Do you think we could move on?” Lothwing suggested, pulling the cloak tighter around her. “It’s cold out here, and much as I enjoy discussing emeralds, I would rather do it somewhere warmer.” “Hear, hear,” Glorfindel agreed. “Onwards, my friends, to the realm of Thranduil!” So we entered the depths of the forest, dark even without the cover of leaves. I led our company, for I knew the paths through our woods, which changed from year to year. There was still evil lurking in the heart of Mirkwood, and our paths avoided the worst of it. We had been walking for about two hours when we were stopped. “Daro!” a voice called from the trees. “What business have you in the realm of Thranduil?” I recognized the voice: my brother Tathernil, most probably accompanied by his patrol. I had expected to find them. “Is that any way to greet your brother, Tathernil?” I called back. His head appeared from among the branches. “Legolas?” he asked in surprise. He shouted for the rest to come down while he swung to the forest floor in front of me. True to his character he dragged me down from Arod into a hug. “You don’t look too much the worse for wear! We were wondering when you would return to us.” I returned the embrace. “You know I could never be kept from the forest for too long. Here, let me introduce my companions. You already know Glorfindel. Here is his son, Vanwalas. Behind him are Lothwing, herb-mistress of Imladris, and her son, Thorondir. And there on Arod is Gimli.” I watched my brother’s face for his reactions. He knew of my past with Glorfindel, and though my mother and father had not told him of my ability to carry children, I had chosen to tell him myself. He knew that Vanwalas was not only Glorfindel’s son but also mine, and his eyes rested on my youngling for a long, calculating moment. He acknowledged Lothwing and Thorondir, but a look of surprise came to his face when he saw Gimli. “A dwarf?” he asked skeptically. “Aye, he was one of the Fellowship and a dear friend of mine,” I replied. “Father won’t be happy.” “I know, but maybe it’s time for things to change in Mirkwood.” “Perhaps.” “Legolas!” Gimli exclaimed in his gruff dwarfish voice. “Will you be so kind to introduce us?” “I am sorry,” I conceded. “My friends, this is my brother, Prince Tathernil of Mirkwood.” He bowed solemnly, and Tathernil was rarely solemn. “I welcome you all to Mirkwood. I apologize for the less than cordial greetings, but there are still evil things out here.” “We understand,” Glorfindel said with a nod. “Thank you for your hospitality.” “Gwaewen,” Tathernil said, gesturing for a she-Elf in his patrol. “Please return to the City and inform the King that my brother has returned and that he brings friends.” She nodded, casting one more glance at Gimli, and sprinted off through the trees. Tathernil waved his hand for us to follow him, and so we did. We wound our way about through the trees until the Sun glimmered as it set upon our trees. “We’ll stop here,” I explained to my company. “The woods are not safe to travel at night.” A quick camp was spread and food was shared. When the others began to settle themselves into their bedrolls for the night, Tathernil gestured for me to follow him. “Is that truly your son?” he asked as soon as we were out of hearing range. “Yes,” I said, shifting my feet. I hadn’t expected it to feel so uncomfortable to make such a confession to my brother. “He looks like a good boy.” “He is. I love him dearly.” “I don’t think Father will be happy about this. I’ve seen how hard you work to earn his trust. Do you really want to jeopardize it?” “My son is part of who I am, Tathernil. I would have Father’s acceptance after all these years, and so would Vanwalas. It has been very difficult for him to grow up with only one parent, and now I am determined to be there for him.” “He won’t like it that you challenge him.” He wore a frown on his face, and I could tell he was quite serious. “This is the only way.” I felt a small bolt of fear run through me. “You will stand by me, won’t you?” “Of course, little brother,” he proclaimed, embracing me tightly. “I would never turn you away. As soon as we return to the City, you must give us every detail of your Quest, do you hear?” “Yes, Tathernil,” I said with mock annoyance. “Let’s go back. I’m tired.” And I slept well, back in the safe land that I knew and loved, with those I cared for most sleeping near me. ~ It took us five days to reach the City that had been built around Mirkwood’s caverns. Vanwalas was unconsciously acting just like a Wood Elf, for he constantly had his head turned towards the branches over our heads. He kept close to Thorondir, and judging by the look on Lothwing's face she had discovered their relationship and was slowly coming to terms with it. And Lothwing was happy just to see all the sorts of plants that grew in Mirkwood that would not grow in Imladris. I caught her picking some leaves off of a vine and stowing them in her pack. “Do you mind?” she asked with a shrug. “I thought I could study them when I have the time.” “Not at all, just so long as the vine doesn’t.” She grinned back at me and returned to her harvesting. I noticed that Tathernil kept Glorfindel under his watchful eye. I understood why; my brother had always cared a great deal about me. And Glorfindel had, after all, taken me away from him for an unexplainable reason. In response to the scrutiny, Glorfindel was under his best behavior, though he made it clear that I was under his protection. I saw them come to a wary standoff, each according the other the appropriate respect, however fragile it may have been. But I was home, and little more mattered to me. The darkness had lessened beneath the trees, and I could tell that the evil that had plagued us for so long was slowly receding. The City was a happy place when we arrived, and there was quite a welcoming party arranged. Just as I had expected, my mother stood at the forefront, and she rushed forward to embrace me. “Oh, thank the Valar you are home safe,” she said as she kissed my forehead. “Do you have so little confidence in my skills as a warrior?” I asked jokingly. “No. Legolas, you know how you frighten me each time you leave.” She kissed me again. “I am happy that you are back.” “So am I,” I agreed. “Here, I must introduce the rest of my company.” So, as I had before, I recited the names of those traveling with me. I avoided watching my father as I did so; I feared what sorts of looks of disappointment might appear in his face. Mother merely looked happy, though she started as I said Glorfindel’s name and cast a curious glance at me. Of course, as soon as I mentioned the dwarf, there was a noticeable murmuring in the crowd. A dwarf had not been let to wander free in Mirkwood for so long that the people had not become accustomed to seeing them. I helped him off of his seat high on Arod and stood next to him. There was an awkward silence. At last, clearing her face of the frown she had worn, my mother stepped forward. “Welcome to our forest, Gimli son of Gloin. We hope you find only hospitality here.” “I am sure I will, my lady,” Gimli answered with a bow. “I look forward to spending some time beneath your tall trees.” I felt a smile on my face, for I was pleased that Gimli had been so easily accepted. Free now from my obligations as a guide for my friends I went to greet the rest of my family. Even Brethildur was smiling as he hugged me, and he smiled about as much as Tathernil frowned. Harmae’s embrace was warm and comforting. Istion, my sister’s son, and Mothkhil, Tathernil’s daughter, smiled brightly at me in acknowledgement. For the first time I looked hesitantly at my father. I could not read his face, and I knew that it usually meant he was displeased about something. “Welcome home, Legolas,” he said. I knew him well enough to know that my return made him happy, but my decision to bring such dubious characters was less than delightful to him. “Thank you, Father,” I said, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Come, all of you!” Mother cried, edging closer to Vanwalas. “You have had a long journey, but we have prepared refreshment and beds for you!” Father cast me one more calculating glance, but I stayed behind to catch up with Glorfindel. I walked side-by-side with him, as close as I dared. I felt the meaning of Tathernil’s words – in displaying any emotion for Glorfindel or Vanwalas, I challenged his rule. Father was not one who liked to be challenged. I trod dangerous ground, and I understood it at that point. Unobtrusively, my hand sought Glorfindel’s, and he squeezed comfortingly. I sighed and wondered how to deal with this new opposition. ~ Vanwalas’s POV Grandmother. It was a foreign word to me. For so many years it had been my father and I, no one else. Yet it was Legolas’s mother – and my grandmother – who approached me while the rest of the company entered the cavern. I bowed as courteously as I knew how, for I saw by the look on her face that she knew full well who I was. Sure enough, as she was escorting me along with the rest, she said in a soft voice, “I know who you are.” I had already met Legolas’s brother – and my uncle, I suppose – Tathernil. He hadn’t spoke much to me, but his smile had been kind. The Queen looked ready to like me, but she was wisely withholding judgement until I had been proven worthy of her appreciation. “Then you know that I am ready to make a place for myself here,” I answered. “I know very much about one half of my parentage, and very little about the other half.” She smiled widely. Obviously I had passed some sort of test. “If you need any of your questions answered, you can feel free to come to me,” she continued. “I would like to find out more about you, Vanwalas. I want to know if you were raised in a method of which I approve.” “You should talk to Lothwing about my childhood,” I said. “She was my foster-mother. But thank you for offering to answer my questions. I have quite a few.” “Good.” She looked pleased. She clucked about me like a hen, straightening my cloak and hair. “My,” she commented, “does your hair ever lie flat? Oh, I suppose it’s nonsense. But you must be famished. We have prepared a feast for you, and afterwards, if you’re not too tired, you can learn how to dance.” “I know how to dance!” I protested. “Not like a Wood Elf you don’t,” she replied with a sly smile. Thankfully, I sat close to my parents during the feast. I still did not know how to act around Legolas’s people, and I had no way of telling (beyond asking) if any of them knew of our true relationship. I found myself seated next to my cousin Mothkhil, Tathernil’s daughter, and my cousin. She was quiet and shy, but eventually I warmed her to conversation, and I soon found that we had much in common. Apparently, in Mirkwood, they allowed the she-Elves to become warriors, for she had great won renown as a swordswoman. When I asked her if she wished to spar, she laughed and tossed her tawny hair. “It is not often I get that offer!” she exclaimed. “But if you wish it, I will try my blade against yours, Vanwalas of Imladris.” All of a sudden, the drums grew louder and faster. She turned again to me, a wide grin on her face. “It’s time for the dancing! Care to join me?” “Ah, sure,” I agreed. How different could it be from Imladris dancing, after all? But the pace and steps were faster than I had ever even considered dancing, and it took all of my concentration just to keep my balance. Mothkhil laughed lightly and moved me to the outskirts of the crowd to teach me the steps. Confident that I had learned them well enough, she led me back into the mêlée. It was a draining whirlpool, and endless flow that left me breathless in such an invigorating way that I was amazed. When at last the song came to an end, she led me back towards our seats and poured me a generous glass of wine. “That was fun,” she said. “How did you like it?” “I’ve never danced like that before,” I said. “But it was . . . interesting.” She laughed again. “I’ll settle for that. Want to try again?” “Let me rest for a moment.” “Of course.” She bounded off to another partner, and I in turn felt somebody take her place. “How is it to dance like a Wood Elf?” Thorondir asked with laughing eyes. “If she fights with a sword like she dances, you’re in for trouble tomorrow.” “What sort of fool was I to think you would support me?” I retorted. “You ought to try it, Thorondir. It’s quite exhilarating.” “Oh, I don’t doubt you. But I’m not much of a dancer, you know.” “How is your mother fitting in?” “Oh, she’s all right. I heard her talking about something with Legolas’s sister. She loves it here, plenty of new plants to discover.” “And you, Thorondir?” I asked carefully. “How do you feel to be here?” “You are happy, so I am happy, dear friend,” he said, taking my hand in his. “And it is a lovely place, despite the gloom.” “Especially with all of the available Elf maids around?” I asked with a mischievous smile. He paled noticeably. “You wouldn’t . . .” “Wouldn’t I?” I laughed and squeezed his hand. “No, I wouldn’t. You can trust me, Thorondir. Why don’t you find someone to dance with?” “I’d rather not, thank you very much,” he said, standing to leave. “Oh no you don’t.” I grabbed his hand and gestured to Mothkhil. She bounced over, eyeing Thorondir with interest. It wasn’t long before my friend was securely stumbling through the complicated dance. “She’s always excited to get new dance partners.” I turned to see Legolas grinning down on me. He promptly sat himself in the chair beside me, a look of contentment on his face. “How are you liking it here?” he asked me. “I haven’t seen much yet, but I like it so far. It is a beautiful forest.” “I thought you would think so.” He glanced around, as though afraid someone would hear us, then whispered, “Have you noticed my father watching you?” I glanced over my shoulder to see Thranduil turned away, apparently engaged in another conversation. “He’s watching me?” “Yes. Testing you, I think.” “No one has ever watched me without my knowledge before,” I said, a bit frustrated in not noticing. “You are among other Wood Elves here. You cannot expect us all to behave like lazy Imladris Elves.” “Surely not all Imladris Elves are lazy, Legolas.” It was Father, of course. He seated himself to my other side. “Anyhow, we do not spend so much time staring at the night sky as Wood Elves.” “Why not? Why should you not wonder at the beauty of Elbereth’s creation?” “I see all the stars I need to in your eyes, love.” “Ai, sweet Elbereth!” I exclaimed, leaping to my feet. “At least let me leave before you start saying such things!” ~ “I knew that would get rid of him.” “Did you now? Why would you want to do that?” “So I can be alone with you.” “Stop, you can’t do that in public! My father is ready for any reason to – oh!” “What?” “Stop, save it for later. Come to my room tonight, and we’ll see if we can’t satisfy your terrible lusts, Glorfindel.” “She looks familiar.” “Who?” “The she-Elf with white hair. The one drooling on Vanwalas.” “Lossuriel? What’s she – oh, dear. Where’s Thorondir?” “Over there.” “He’ll be angry. I should stop him and . . .” “They need to deal with this on their own, Legolas. Anyway, what could you do?” “You’re probably right . . . just keep your hands to yourself, will you? I’m trying to make it through tonight without any major incident.” “If you’re sure . . .” ~ I was startled away from the tempting lips of the she-Elf in front of me by a harsh shove to my shoulders. I glanced up, ready to be angry at whoever had interrupted such activities, when I saw Thorondir’s cold gaze. “Thorondir, I . . .” At a loss for words, I sputtered for a moment. “You need not explain, Vanwalas. Just couldn’t pass up this chance, could you?” “Thorondir!” I called as he stalked away. “Excuse me, Lossuriel. Thorondir, wait!” “I don’t want to talk anymore.” “Please, I have something to say. Let me explain.” “Would you like me to show you a room?” a she-Elf asked Thorondir. “Yes please.” “Is it possible we could share a room?” I asked. “Of course,” she answered. Thorondir gave me a venomous glare. It stung to feel such hatred emanating from the eyes of one I loved so dearly. I had never before seen him so impassioned. It wasn’t until the door had shut on our little room, complete with two beds, that he finally exploded. “Trust me, you said, Vanwalas!” he exclaimed, pacing the floor. “So I trusted you! When have I ever not?” “Will you let me explain?” “What is there to explain? What could you say that would justify your actions?” “We had hardly touched and . . .” “I suppose that excuses it?” He glared again at me. “You will have to try better than that, Vanwalas. I might not know much in the ways of love, but I know when someone treats me right!” “I don’t think I can say anything that would excuse what I did,” I said, staring at the floor. “All that I can say is that emotions were running high, and drunken with wine and dancing, I allowed her to kiss me shortly.” “You are incorrigible, Vanwalas,” he said, shaking his head. “I am angry with you, and yet . . . I love you as well. I always have.” I went to him and embraced him. “We are brothers, first and foremost,” I murmured in his hair. He gave a dry laugh. “Brothers, Vanwalas?” “Brothers, and friends, and lovers.” I kissed his cheek. “For I love you in such a way that we do not have a name for it, not even in Elvish.” “I feel it too,” he said softly. He held me tightly. “And it scares me to think we might lose it.” “We won’t lose it.” “Not if you stop messing around with any she-Elf you see.” The smile was evident in his voice. Then he yawned, and I with him. “We’d best get to sleep,” I suggested. “Yes. Hold me tight, all night long, Vanwalas.” I obligingly wrapped my limbs around Thorondir, and together we settled off to sleep. ~ Morning and Mothkhil’s enthusiastic voice found us already awake, each seated on his own bed, both preparing for the rest of the day. Mothkhil bounded into the room, a wide smile on her face. “Good morning, Vanwalas!” she cried. “Are you ready to test your blade against mine? And . . . oh, hello, Thorondir.” I saw a blush tinge her cheeks as she noticed my half-dressed friend. “Good morning,” Thorondir replied, having finished pulling his shirt on. “Do the two of you mind if I watch while you spar?” “No, not at all,” I answered, when no answer was forthcoming from Mothkhil, who still had her eyes locked on Thorondir. The attraction was obvious on her face, and I found it hard to stifle giggles. Somehow, gathering ourselves in some semblance of order, we exited the room. Almost immediately another young she-Elf ran up to Mothkhil, eyes shining excitedly. “It snowed last night!” she exclaimed. “Patrols are all cancelled. Everything’s shut down. But there’s snow!” Mothkhil turned back to us to report, a smile stretching her mouth. “I’m sorry, Vanwalas, but we won’t be able to spar today. There’s snow!” Snow had been a rare event in Imladris, and I hungered to see true, deep, heavy snow like I had read about. I was not disappointed, as I stepped outside holding the piece of lembas that Mothkhil had given to me. Mounds of fluffy white piled around the cavern in cloud-like drifts, and I found myself sighing at the beauty of it all. Even the slender naked trees, bereft of their leaves, had a singular sort of beauty. Young Elves ran around, making hardly a print in the powdery snow and throwing balls of the white substance at each other. “Oh,” Thorondir sighed. “It’s lovely.” But hardly had we taken two steps when a snowball hit Mothkhil squarely in the back. She spun around, eyes blazing, searching for who had dared do such a thing. “Who threw . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Hello, Istion.” Thorondir and I turned to see Istion, the son of Legolas’s sister Harmae, approaching us with a group of his friends. In coloring he was similar to his mother, though he seemed inclined to the same tense irritability that had been on Brethildur’s face. “Hello, Mothkhil,” he said. “Who are your friends?” “This is Vanwalas and Thorondir, of Imladris,” she answered. The meek tone to her voice was uncharacteristic. “Pleased to meet you,” I said with a bow, and Thorondir followed. Istion regarded us with a critical eye. “We have had few visitors from Imladris,” he said. “I am curious.” “Mothkhil!” cried another voice. Tathernil, her father, approached from behind. He smiled at us. “Good morning. Mothkhil, why do you not show our guests around the forest? Istion, you accompany them as well.” “Uncle –” began Istion, but Tathernil promptly interrupted him. “Run along, all of you. It is a beautiful day. And I’m sure that our new friends are curious about the forest?” We nodded enthusiastically. Well, I did. Thorondir looked a bit anxious. Istion glanced over his shoulder at us, a small scowl on his face, before plunging into the snow-covered trees. Thorondir and I followed, and behind us was Mothkhil. “What is Imladris like?” Istion asked us, not slowing down a bit. “Well, it doesn’t snow,” I answered. “What do you want to know?” “I hear that you spend all of your time writing poetry and studying in books. Do you have any true warriors at all?” The scornful tone to his voice was irritating. “Yes, actually. We have many warriors. My father, Glorfindel of Gondolin, is the captain of the guard.” “Why?” he asked, stopping and turning to look at us. “Why any protection at all, if lord Elrond bears an Elven Ring?” “Even the best protection can fail,” Thorondir said softly. “You are no warrior,” Istion said, taking a calculating glance at Thorondir. The disgraceful implications in his voice made me want to break that glance, if only to save my friend the perusal. “I suppose you are one who sits and reads poetry?” “Nay,” Thorondir answered, lifting his chin proudly. “I am an herb-master of Imladris.” Istion’s laughter was unexpected. I felt my eyes narrow in a glare. I did not like the direction of this conversation. “Oh yes,” my cousin said. “My mother spoke with yours. Not exactly an honored position, is it? Well, that’s to be expected, what with your mother having been expelled from Lothlorien for dallying with a sentry.” “Watch your tongue,” I warned as my hands strayed to my knives. “Lady Lothwing is no vagrant she-Elf to be subject to your slander.” “Oh no?” he asked, giving us a cruel smile. “Istion, don’t . . .” Mothkhil murmured from behind us. “Be quiet, Mothkhil. This doesn’t concern you.” He turned his silver eyes to me; there was a small part of me that was disappointed to find no friendly welcome in them. I had hoped my cousin to be better. “I know well enough of you. Son of Glorfindel, is it? You have not the soft look of a poet. Have you then the prestigious post of warrior?” “I do.” “And how do you fight? If I were to attack you right now . . .” “I have no desire to fight you,” I said, taking a step back and putting up my hands. “Istion, please,” Mothkhil said again. “I told you to be quiet!” Istion’s gaze was that of a predator. Without warning, he launched himself at me, tackling me to the ground and delivering a painful blow to my jaw. Knocked off guard by the suddenness of the fall and the shock of the cold snow, I had little chance to defend myself. Startled as I was, I hardly noticed when his weight had been tossed off of me. I came to my senses, rising to my feet and brushing the snow off. In quite an unexpected move for one of his gentle temperament, Thorondir had come to my rescue. He was currently attacking Istion with a fierceness I had seldom seen on any face, let alone his. It was a bit disorienting. Mothkhil and I leapt up and attempted to separate the two. But Thorondir would not relinquish his ground, and Istion had been raised to such ire that I saw a near-murderous rage glowing in his eyes. “Thorondir, stop,” I pleaded, pulling at his shoulders. But he could not hear me, and continued to attack Istion. Suddenly, I was shoved away, and I saw a new pair of hands tugging at the two fighting Elves. It was a stroke of luck that my uncles Tathernil and Brethildur had arrived before much blood was shed. Brethildur had a good hand on Thorondir, who was gradually regaining his calm composure. A bruise darkened over his left eye, and blood trickled from where his lip had been split. Tathernil had a job containing the tempestuous Istion, though my cousin seemed to be in a worse condition than Thorondir. Blood dripped from his nose, and it was crooked in a way that suggested it was broken. Still, he snarled and bared his teeth, attempting to leap towards Thorondir. “Peace, Istion,” Tathernil said in a commanding tone. “He attacked me! Allow me my right to avenge my pride!” “Thorondir was only defending me!” I protested. “Go cool yourself down, nephew,” Tathernil said, pushing Istion into the trees. He shook himself off, sent the rest of us a venomous glare, and stalked off into the forest. “Mothkhil,” Brethildur said, speaking for the first time, “would you rouse Legolas from his bed and inform him of the situation?” He kept his gaze upon Thorondir and I. She nodded, sprinting back off towards the cavern with a look of confusion on her face. “Why Legolas?” I asked. “He is the only one Istion of us will seriously listen to,” Brethildur answered. His brow furrowed in a frown. “You should come with me. I will clean your wounds.” We followed them back to civilization. My jaw ached. I could read none of the expressions on my uncles’ faces. They muttered softly to each other, and even my sharp ears could not pick up the sounds. “Thorondir?” I ventured. “You’re not angry with me, are you?” he asked. I smiled. “No. Should I be? You defended me, Thorondir. It touches me. I love knowing that you care for me.” The corners of his grey eyes crinkled in a smile, and he ruefully rubbed the bruise beneath his eye. “To think, I had to go through all of that to get your care.” “You had my care long before this,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “Come along, Elflings,” Brethildur called to us, gesturing us into a healing room of some sort. “Sit and hold still.” Tathernil sent us a reassuring smile before he left the room. “Where is he going?” I asked Brethildur, who was currently examining the injury to my jaw. “To find Legolas and Istion, I suppose,” he answered. He took my face in his hands and probed carefully, bright silver eyes boring into me. “My sister’s son can have quite a temper. I would suggest you do not raise it again during your stay.” “We did nothing!” I protested, flinching slightly as he hit a tender spot. “Here,” he said, handing me a clump of snow wrapped in cloth. I held it to my face as he examined Thorondir. “I think he spends too much time with our father to be overly fond of those from outside of Mirkwood.” “Does he know who I am?” He turned his eyes back to me. They held little emotion. I shifted beneath his gaze, wondering if all Wood Elves were so perceptive as Legolas and Brethildur. “No, he knows not who you are,” Brethildur answered. “I assume you speak of your true parentage?” “Yes.” “There are few who know. Legolas did not wish it to be common knowledge.” He stepped back, inspecting his work on Thorondir from a distance. “You should heal quickly.” At that moment, the door opened, revealing a tall, regal she-Elf with bright silver eyes and long dark hair. “Oh, Brethildur, Tathernil told me what happened! Are they all right?” “See for yourself, Harmae,” he told his sister with a small smile. “Poor dears. I don’t know what to do with that boy sometimes.” She knelt in front of me, and once again I was under scrutiny. Thankfully, her face was a bit less unreadable than Brethildur’s. There was a smile on her face as she looked at me. “He looks like Legolas, Breth. Can you see it?” “Of course I can see it.” “He has Mother’s eyes.” Her gaze became shiny with tears. “Oh, dear, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to meet you!” “I’m glad to find I have a family of some sort,” I said, looking at the floor. “Oh, that you do, dear one. Though I’m afraid you haven’t seen our best side yet.” Her mouth tightened into a straight line. “I do hope that Legolas is getting somewhere with Istion. But now, I’m sorry to say that I must bid you a good day. Father has need of me filling out some documents. Perhaps we will see each other later, Vanwalas.” I nodded. “I would like that . . . Aunt.” She smiled again and dragged Brethildur behind her out of the room. I glanced over at Thorondir, who had been silent through the entire exchange. “Happy now?” he asked with a small grin. The skin beneath his eye was darkening, and I handed him the pack of snow. “Yes,” I answered, “immeasurably. But what shall we do for the rest of the day?” He leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Let’s not spend it with Istion. Surely there are libraries of some sort around here. We can see what Wood Elves read.” “Mmm,” I sighed. “Or we could go back to sleep.” He laughed and tugged on my hair. “Up you get, or I will never rouse you.” Grudgingly, I obeyed, and we set off in a search for the libraries. It was comfortable to hold his hand in mine again. ~ Legolas’s POV A soft touch on my shoulder woke me from my dreams. I blinked, clearing my eyes of sleep, and saw Mothkhil looking hesitantly down at me. I smiled reassuringly, carefully removing Glorfindel’s hand from about my waist. “What is it?” I asked with a yawn. “It’s Istion, Uncle. He has been behaving in an untoward manner to our guests.” “Not again,” I sighed, pulling on a cloak and boots. My nephew had a history of losing his short temper, and when pushed he could be violent. I knew Brethildur thought it was because he spent too much time with our father, yet despite this it seemed that he would listen only to me in matters of discipline. “It snowed last night, and it is still cold, Uncle.” “I’ll survive. Where was it?” “Out in the woods,” she said as she led me down the corridors. “Father and Uncle Brethildur already broke up the fight, but Istion still looked angry.” It had indeed snowed the night before, piled in white mounds about the cavern and dripping from the trees. Our breath frosted on the air. With quick, sure steps Mothkhil guided me through the trees. As we walked, she spoke. “I don’t even know what happened. I was showing Vanwalas and Thorondir around the forest, but Father told Istion and I to lead them together. We hadn’t even got far when . . . well, you know Istion’s temper. I think he insulted Thorondir’s mother.” “That would do it,” I muttered to myself. “Where did he go?” “Through there,” she said, and pointed. She shivered and pulled her hood over her pointed ears and tawny hair. “It’s getting cold again.” “I’ll be inside soon. Go in and get yourself something warm to drink.” She nodded and began her return to the cavern. Meanwhile, I wrapped my cloak tighter about me and followed the barely perceptible tracks to wherever Istion had retreated to. My path ended at a tree, and upon looking up I saw him, folded upon himself and shaking in anger still. “What raises your temper so that not even this cool morning can dampen it?” I called up to him. When I received no answer, I climbed up the tree to sit next to him. “Would you like to talk?” “No,” he said flatly. I almost fancied I saw my father in his blazing silver eyes. “You know, we can’t have you attacking every guest I bring to Mirkwood,” I said gently. “Tell me why, will you?” “There was just something so . . . pompous, so self-assured about the way they acted,” he hissed. “Imladris Elves never give us any respect. We fight for our honor, while they lay about and create lore!” He shook his head. “What a waste of their time.” “Is that all?” I asked, venturing to put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, it is true that Imladris is a home of great learning, but that is not all they do. There are many great warriors who dwell in Imladris. You ought to speak to Glorfindel, he could . . .” “I wish not to speak to Glorfindel,” Istion said through his teeth. “I want nothing to do with them.” “Why is that?” “I told you, they are overbearing and . . .” his voice trailed, and for the first time he looked me in the eyes. “I would have defeated that fatherless herb-master had Tathernil not pulled us apart.” “I heard about that,” I said softly. “I understand how it must be a blow to your pride, Istion. It is true that Thorondir is not trained as a warrior, but he is a very close friend of Vanwalas, and it is likely you incited him beyond his usual calm tolerance when you attacked him. But should you have the patience for it, I think you would enjoy their company. Vanwalas is a wonderful archer, considering he is from Imladris, and Thorondir is quite wise and learned.” He sniffed disdainfully. “Learned? In the speech of tiny herbs? What use is there in that?” “Do not snub knowledge, nephew,” I told him sternly. “Our history and wisdom makes us Elves and Firstborn in our rights. It takes both strength and learning to create a society.” He turned his head away. I could tell he was thinking on what I had said. I had little hope of making him see reason, but to even have him consider the possibility of friendship with my son and his friend was a step in the right direction. But the air was getting colder. I pulled my cloak tightly about me. “Come inside soon, will you? ’Tis far too cold for any sane Elf to be out.” He nodded again. “And I would appreciate it if you attempted an apology to them.” “Aye,” he muttered. “I will return soon. I have some more thinking to do.” So I left him alone in the forest and returned to the cavern. He would return soon. I had not spent so many years raising him in replacement for my own son that I did not know him so well. ~ That night, after supper and some brief conversation with my family, Glorfindel and I retired to my rooms. With the door safely bolted and a candle sending flickering images on the walls, a comfortable scene was created. I should have been at peace, but I was not. My thoughts would not quiet enough for me to focus completely on anything. “What occupies your mind tonight, Legolas?” Glorfindel asked. His head rested on my belly, and he gently traced patterns on my skin. While reassuring, even that loving act could not calm my mind. He lifted his beautiful golden head and looked directly at me, eyes shining a bright blue-green. “You have been brooding so much since we arrived. Your attention has been wandering. I feel lonely.” He pouted like a small child. At the sight of such an expression on his face, I could not stifle a small giggle. “I’m sorry to neglect you,” I said, burying my fingers in his bright golden hair. “I suppose I’m . . . dreading speaking to my father. Bad enough to bring a dwarf into Mirkwood, but to bring my own son!” I smiled slightly, but the concern on his face only increased. “It won’t be a pleasant conversation. And I’m worried about Istion.” “Your nephew?” he asked, frowning. “Why? “He . . . he sort of – attacked Vanwalas and Thorondir earlier today.” Abruptly his weight left my body. Leaning on his elbow, he looked down at me, a fierce look on his face. “He what?” “It was a misunderstanding, and considering he has such a short temper . . .” my voice trailed as he sat up on the bed. I followed him up, wrapping my arms around him and leaning my head on his shoulder. He was strong. I knew that if a fierceness came upon him I could not stop him. “I know, love, I was angry too. Mothkhil came to get me this morning. But you will laugh to hear it! Istion lost his temper with Vanwalas and tried to hurt him, but before he could do much of anything Thorondir was upon him, fighting him with magnificent strength! It was quite a blow to his pride.” “I’d give him a blow of a different sort,” Glorfindel growled. “Did Thorondir hurt him?” “I think he broke his nose.” “Good.” “You are so wicked! He is my nephew, Glorfindel!” I smiled. “So calm down. Nothing serious happened. I am only worried because I want my nephew and my son to get along, and I’m afraid they haven’t gotten off to a very good start.” He huffed, reminding me of Gimli, and settled back into my embrace. “Just wait. He will come to like Vanwalas. I have never seen anyone capable of refusing that boy.” He turned his head to kiss my cheek. “He reminds me of you, in that way. I could never refuse you anything. But tell me, now, why does your father trouble you so?” “He never approved of our love,” I said softly. “He never approved of my . . . child. And he has never tried to hide it from me. Time and again I try to regain his trust and favor, but he keeps it locked away from me. Is it childish of me to want him to love me unconditionally? Is it wrong to desire him to look upon his grandson with pride, not disgust?” “No, Legolas, no, that is not wrong.” I felt his hands smoothing my hair. “We will see what he says. And while I know how much you want this approval, it might be too much to ask from him. We will start a new home in Ithilien.” “Yes,” I sighed, pushing down the sadness. “Ithilien. Aragorn has agreed to it, hasn’t he?” “Yes.” A bright grin shone on his face in attempt to make me smile as well. “He even allowed us to begin work on our home while you were away. It will be so beautiful. We will make the land sing again!” The words painted a lovely picture in my mind, and I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder again. I could feel him breathing beneath me. “It has been a long time, Legolas,” he said. “Are you going to deny me tonight?” “What if I said yes?” I asked, feeling an impish smile on my face. He pushed me back to the bed, trapping my arms beside my head in his hands. “Then I would have to ravish you,” he whispered in my ear, “until you begged me for it.” I shivered at the thought. “Oh, would you?” “I would. I would hold you here, but I would touch you so gently that you would scream for something more substantial. You would be so loud that this little City of yours would wake up and come running to your rooms to see what was wrong. Your father would stand right there, mouth open in shock, as I took you.” I giggled at that picture. “But I am quite a formidable warrior. What if I fought you off?” “Would you want to?” He looked right in my eyes, and my heart nearly melted. “No,” I breathed. “Whatever you like, Glorfindel, you know I love you. But let’s not invite my father to the party.” “If you say so,” he said, running his fingers up and down my chest. “Just remember to stay quiet.” He kissed me deeply, swallowing the moan that came from my throat. It was what I wanted, what I needed. He was a soothing balm to my troubled spirit. His weight kept me down while his tongue traced the patterns that his fingers had previously made. I sighed, surrendering to the pleasant exotic curling of desire in my veins. “You are so beautiful . . .” he whispered. It was old habit to attempt to protest. “No, surely no more beautiful than any Elf. You, Glorfindel, you are so beautiful – like dawn. I sometimes think that, were it not for our past, you would not have me.” “You’re tiring, Legolas,” he said, sliding up to face me again. I turned my face away. “How many times to I have to say that I love you? Always you refuse to believe me . . . someday I will have to prove it to you.” “I know you love me. I just don’t know why.” “I’ll tell you why. First, you are beautiful, no matter what you say.” As he spoke, he carefully prepared me with his slick fingers. “Second, you love me. Third, you are quite strong and daring. And last, but not least, you insist on being so stubborn that I have to continue to prove myself.” I gasped as he slid completely with in me. It was the most pleasurable, familiar thing I had ever experienced. He waited a few moments for me to adjust, then set a delightfully rigorous pace. At that moment I knew, without a doubt, that he loved me and only me for being exactly what I was. There was little or nothing to do with our past or future; all that existed was the pleasant present. And, beautiful or ugly, he would love me, probably forever. What a wonderful security. And it was perfect when, as he drove his last into me, he gasped, “I love you, Legolas! I love you so much!” He kissed my mouth. ~ I woke the next morning not remembering falling asleep. I smiled, seeing Glorfindel’s face inches from my own. I stretched languidly, careful not to wake him. But he began to stir, despite my efforts. Blinking the sleep from his brilliant blue-green eyes, he grinned sleepily at me. “You always wake so early,” he said with a yawn. “You always sleep so late,” I retorted. I kissed his cheek and rose from the bed, stretching my arms far over my head. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see if I can’t find you breakfast.” He grumbled good-naturedly and burrowed back beneath the blankets. Looking once more upon him, I left the room. A jovial feeling welled up within me as I walked down the corridors. I felt as though nothing could suppress the smile on my face. The dining hall was already crowded with Wood Elves, but I did spot one distinctly Imladris Elf, sitting somewhat lonely at a table. I grabbed my plate and went to join Thorondir at his breakfast. “Good morning,” I greeted. “Good morning,” he answered with a yawn. I smiled. Judging by the tired look on his face, he and Vanwalas had had an eventful night. “How do you like it here?” I asked him. “It’s very nice, nothing at all like Imladris. With all the trees bare, it isn’t so dark and dreary as I imagined.” “No. And I wager you’ve never seen such snow before?” He shook his head. “That’s one of my favorite parts. But it does get quite cold.” “It is not so bad as other years. I remember, once, it was so cold that the River froze over!” His eyes widened in amazement. “That was magnificent. You could walk across the ice if you wanted to.” “Oh my,” he said. “I can imagine it. It must have been beautiful.” “It was.” I glanced around the room, searching for my son. “Have you seen Vanwalas this morning?” “He was called away early to speak to the King.” I felt a heavy ball of fear drop into my stomach. I set sharp eyes on him again. “How long has he been gone?” “The entire morning. Do you wish to speak with him?” I nodded. Oh, I would speak to him. No doubt my father was telling him all sorts of awful lies in attempt to scare him away. He would not succeed, not if I could help it. I rose from the table, bid Thorondir a brief farewell, and made my way to my father’s study. “Father?” I asked, pushing open the door. “Father, is Vanwalas in here?” But he was not; I could see that with my own eyes. The only person in the room was my father, thumbing through a book as he sat at his desk. He raised his cold eyes in semblance of surprise as I burst without announcement into his study. “No, Legolas, he is not. I dismissed him not long ago.” “What did you do to him?” I asked angrily, stepping up close to him. He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why should I have done anything to him? I merely told the boy a bit about our history.” I searched his face for a lie, but he was completely inscrutable, as always. I scowled. “I don’t know what your agenda is, but I –“ “Agenda?” He had the grace to look surprised again. “Once more, why should I have an agenda with this boy?” “I see what you’re trying to do, Father. You seek to drive him away from me.” “Legolas . . .” “I’m going to find my son,” I announced. I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “Stay away from him. If I hear so much as a rumor about his mistreatment . . .” “Put some proper clothes on,” he called to me. “When you are here, you are a Prince, Legolas. Dress like one.” I waved the comment away. My stormy footsteps led me back to my rooms, and I leaned my head on the wall for a moment to calm my thoughts. I opened the door, not expecting to see Vanwalas sitting on the bed next to Glorfindel. My son wore an unpleasant frown, and there was concern in Glorfindel’s eyes. “Vanwalas?” I began. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I need to go.” He brushed past me out the door, not even bothering to look me in the eyes. “I knew it!” I exclaimed in a fury. I rounded on Glorfindel. “What did he do? What did my father do? I swear, if he even . . .” “Calm down, Legolas,” Glorfindel said sternly. “It wasn’t much of anything. Thranduil just asked some questions that made him feel uncomfortable.” “That isn’t much of anything? You do not know my father, Glorfindel. Oh, dear, what sort of questions?” “He wouldn’t say.” “Do you see, now, why I couldn’t bring him back? Oh, I should have left him in Minas Tirith, but I was selfish.” “No, he wanted to come,” Glorfindel comforted, encircling me in an embrace. “I know, but . . . my father will use the information to hurt him, if he so wishes. He is dangerous to those he dislikes, Glorfindel! I don’t fear for his life or anything drastic like that, but he will turn him away, make him bitter, if he gets the chance!” “Shush,” Glorfindel said. “Why should he wish to do that?” “He is still angry with me,” I whispered, burying my face in his shoulder. “Even after all of these years?” “He never forgave me. He thinks it a disgrace.” I looked up at him, wiping my sudden tears. “I’m frightened. We should leave as soon as we are able.” “We shall, if you wish it,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Be calm now. I do not understand your fear, but I acknowledge it.” “Good, good,” I said. “As soon as the weather is clear.” ~ We stayed in Mirkwood (or, as it had been renamed, Eryn Lasgalen) for another few weeks. For the most part, these were quite pleasant. Eventually, Istion found the fortitude to apologize to Vanwalas and Thorondir, and they established a careful friendship. Mothkhil, of course, was already their main companion. She took them on long, meandering treks about the forest. I knew her eye had snagged on Thorondir, and while I’m sure the rest of the family would not have opposed the match, Thorondir was interested only in Vanwalas. It was so beautiful to watch their budding relationship. I had never gotten such a chance. My family, excepting my father, took Vanwalas to their hearts. I caught Brethildur teaching the boys some rudimentary healing skills, and Tathernil admitted to being impressed when watching my son with his knives. “ ’Tis a gift of the Valar!” he had exclaimed. “He handles the weapons like some demon possessed! Even if I knew not that he was yours, Legolas, that would have given him away immediately.” I had smiled in return. Hearing such things made me beyond happy. But I did not forget Gimli during our time there. He rode out with me on Arod to see the surrounding forests. He ate his meals with my family and me. He spoke to some architects about constructing some new, sturdy stone doors to our cavern. He seemed quite happy, though, as he said, “The trees are still malicious. Is it such a crime to carry an axe in your land?” At least we had extinguished the spiders. Glorfindel was enjoying himself as well. The Elves never grew tired of his stories of long-ago Gondolin and the forgotten battles of Middle-earth. I found myself entranced, a few times, as he told of his long-ago home on the Far Shores. The Sea longing had not left me in the few months since I had seen it. I suppressed it, for the most part, though sometimes in the mornings I woke with an ache beneath my ribs and the strong desire to see the long sandy shore and white-crested blue waves. I had sighed, then, to myself as I rubbed the ache away. It was the one story that I did not tell, though my family daily begged it of me. I avoided my father as much as I could, and attempted to keep him away from Vanwalas. My son did not speak to me of what had occurred that day between them, and for some reason it was painful. It was expected, of course, that Vanwalas would seek the father he had always known. But I did not want him to turn me away. Much as I wanted to, I did not force him. He had to come to me on his own. But I didn’t like to wait. So it had been a few nice weeks with little trouble. The weather was gradually growing warmer, and the snow had melted from the ground and trees. The damp was still everywhere, though, heightening the beautiful smells of my homeland. I breathed deep the rich air of Eryn Lasgalen. Rain would come that night. I sat, at that moment, in a tree, looking up at the slightly clouded sky. “Legolas!” I turned to see Harmae striding quite purposefully towards me. “Legolas, Father wants to see you now. He sounded serious.” I sighed and slid down from my seat. “I’m coming. Is he angry?” “Perhaps. Don’t do anything terrible, Legolas.” “I’ll try.” Unexpectedly, she gathered me close in her arms. Such an embrace from my sister was a rare thing, so I hesitantly hugged her back. “I missed you, Legolas,” she said, and I felt her kiss my hair. “I would go with you when you leave, little brother, but I have work here to do. But I will visit you in Ithilien, my dear one.” “We would love to have you,” I answered, kissing her cheek. “But how did you find of my plans to leave?” She grinned mischievously. “Vanwalas told me. I have the dearest little nephew, now. I would come to see you if only for him.” She tugged playfully at my hair, then pushed me towards the cavern. “Go now,” she said, “or Father will be in a fury.” Abruptly, I found myself outside his study. I took a deep breath and straightened my clothes, but there was little I could do to make myself calmer. I had come to expect the worst of my conversations with my father; there was no reason why this occasion should be different. I knocked on the door. “Come in, Legolas,” he said. I obeyed. He sat at his desk, looking expectantly at me. “Well, sit down, will you?” “For what reason did you wish to see me?” I asked as I took a seat. “Does a father need a reason to have a conversation with his son?” He smiled, but I remained wary and did not return it. He sighed, folding his hands on the desk before him. “We have not had the chance to speak much since you returned, Legolas. You have become difficult to find.” “I keep myself busy. Gimli and I have done a great deal of exploring.” “Ah, yes, Gimli the dwarf. It has been a long time since a dwarf entered this forest with our permission.” “A trade arrangement with the Lonely Mountain might be beneficial,” I suggested. “Gimli’s kin are great craftsmen of metals and jewels. I know how you like such things.” “When one has had a few millennia of difficult life, it is nice to come home to luxuries,” he said. “The dragon’s hoard would have been a great asset to us, but . . . it is too late to think of such things. No, what I truly wish to speak to you of is your son, Legolas.” What dangerous ground. I decided to tread carefully. “What about him?” “He is a good boy. I find it difficult to find fault with him.” I narrowed my eyes at the unexpected praise. My father was not the one to dispense such words lightly. As I had predicted, there was more to follow. “But I worry, Legolas. He displays tendencies not becoming of his heritage.” He frowned for the first time, breaking the spell of content he had woven. “He seems far too close than is comfortable to that Imladris Elf.” “His name is Thorondir,” I said softly. “It matters little what his name is. Your liaison with Glorfindel was not so terrible as it might have been because he is a hale warrior and a lord in his own right. This Thorondir is little more than the bastard whelp of a disgraced Lorien maid. Certainly no good for your son.” My knuckles turned white when I grasped the arms of my chair too hard. It had become more difficult to hold my temper in check. “I would not discourage my son from that which makes him happy. If he loves Thorondir truly, and if Thorondir cares for him, then I could care less who his parents are.” “It makes sense,” he said with another disapproving frown. “You neglect him his entire life, of course you would wish to indulge him now.” “I merely do not wish to repeat what happened to me!” I exclaimed, rising from my chair. “You will recollect, Father, that you forbid me to know him. I want him to be happy, and I see no reason to forbid the relationship. It is a matter of love.” “What a foolish romantic notion.” “That is what you never understood, Father. It is not the simple matter of a childish ‘romantic notion,’ as you call it. Glorfindel loves me as I have never been loved before. No matter what I do . . . I left him for two thousand years, and yet he welcomed me back.” “He enjoys the pleasures of your flesh. You should not whore yourself like this.” “Whore myself!” I said incredulously. “You think that is what I do?” “That is exactly what you do, Legolas. How many lovers do you think he has had while you were separated? But I care little of what actions you partake in, Legolas, my already dishonored son. I care more for what you do to the spawn you have birthed, a child that shares my blood. You corrupt that boy with your dalliance!” He rose as well. I never realized quite how much he towered menacingly over me. I drew myself up to my full height, looking him directly in his eyes. “I would rather corrupt him than watch him suffer with a love that you would condemn!” There was a dangerous flash in his silver eyes. “Do you care nothing for his wellbeing? How long will it be until word reaches me that he is with child?” “Never,” I said triumphantly. “We leave for Ithilien soon. King Elessar has allowed us land in that forest, and if I have my way you shall never see my children ever again!” “You plan to have more? To continue this folly? I never thought I would see you run away in neglect of your duties. Does Eryn Lasgalen hold your heart no longer? I am still your King, Legolas. You are under my command. You shall not leave this land without my permission, which I will not give.” “I am no child anymore!” I shouted. My voice astounded me. “You cannot control me! I go to Ithilien, and if I never lay eyes on this forest again it shall be good! And I am sure that Glorfindel and I will have more children.” I laughed. “For all we know, I hold our next child with me now!” “You will not,” he said quietly. There was a look of rage on his face. “I forbid it.” “You do not understand, do you, Father? You do not have the power to forbid me any longer!” I was unprepared for the blow. It was a vicious slap across my face, then another across my other cheek. My head flew back with the force of the strike, and I blacked out for a moment, but I held my ground. When my vision returned, my father stood before me, looking livid with anger. I raised a hand to the stinging spots on my face. My cold hand was soothing. “I leave in the morning. There is nothing you can do to stop me. If you raise so much as your voice to either my son or my lover, I will demand retribution in form of a duel. Farewell, Thranduil. I do not expect we shall meet again.” With those words, I left the room. I felt oddly cold and numb. Still, I had freed myself from the rule that had oppressed me for so long. A strange weight had lifted from my shoulders. No longer did I have to fear his wrath in the instance that he discovered my forbidden love. Soon enough, we would be in Ithilien, and I would never have to face his disapproval again. I knocked on Gimli’s door. He answered it, huffing and puffing as usual. “What – by Aulë’s hammer, Legolas, what happened to your face?” “Nothing.” “Was it your father?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “My father always said to me that anyone who trusts Thranduil, be he Elf, dwarf, or Man, is in for trouble.” “I would be inclined to agree with him at the moment,” I said with a grim smile. “The reason I bother you now, Gimli, is because we leave for Ithilien on the morrow. Will you come with us?” “Eh, I don’t think so,” he said. He smiled up at me, and the kind expression made me feel better. I smiled back. “ ’Tis time I returned to my own home. But you can wager a necklace of mithril that I will come to visit you soon in Ithilien.” “That is good, my friend. So you depart tomorrow as well?” “I think it best.” “Good night, then, Gimli. I will see you tomorrow before we part ways.” “Of course. Good night, friend.” The door shut, and I was alone again in the hallway. It was fortunate I decided to speak with Gimli first; he was able to calm me after the ordeal I had endured with my father. My dear friend Lothwing was the next person I had to inform of our departure. “Lothwing?” I called as I knocked on her door. We had spent some time together; after all, she was one of my oldest and closest friends. Herb gathering had occupied most of our time, for she seemed fascinated by all of our “foreign plants,” as she called them. She even managed to find some remnants of the web of the evil spiders that had once plagued our forests, which she purposed to use in some tincture or another. She seemed quite happy and content, and I hoped she would accompany me to Ithilien. “Legolas!” she said as she answered the door. If it was possible, she looked even healthier for her recent exploring. Her cheeks glowed pink and her hair shone beautifully. “What brings you to my door, friend?” “I just wanted to let you know that we are leaving tomorrow morning for Ithilien, should you wish to come.” “So soon? Nay,” she said at my worried look, “I am coming with you. I would never dream of doing otherwise. After all, what more does Imladris need an herb mistress for? But I thought you would wish to tarry here a bit longer.” “My father and I had a disagreement,” I admitted. “Well, that was clear enough,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking me over. “Come in for a moment. I have something that will reduce that swelling.” “It’s already going away.” “But you shall scare Glorfindel if you should meet him looking as you do.” She raised her eyebrow at me over whatever concoction she mixed. “Need I ask about what the disagreement was over?” “Surely you can guess,” I said, taking the potion. “As always, he disapproves of my chosen relationships.” “And this is the first time you have truly opposed him.” She folded her hands in her lap, looking suddenly very thoughtful. “You have changed so much since first we met, Legolas. You are genuinely grown up, aren’t you?” I remained silent. I had changed a great deal. No longer was I the timid Elfling too frightened not to mind his father. I was making my own choices, looking out for myself . . . and yet it hurt to think of leaving my beloved forest. “Thank you for your help,” I said as I stood to leave. “Be careful how you tell Glorfindel, Legolas,” she cautioned. “He worries about you.” “I know, but he doesn’t need to,” I answered, closing the door behind me. It was always dark in the corridors of the caverns. Most rooms had windows leading out to the forest, but there were no windows in the hallways. Torches cast shivering images on the walls. Other Elves raised their brows at the fact that we lived beneath the ground; I could see it in Glorfindel’s eyes, and occasionally I felt it as well. The weight of the earth pressing down . . . it was like Moria again, or so my mind thought. Oppressive, dank, yet it had always been my home. I had traversed the corridors since I could remember. I wondered what our home in Ithilien would look like. Would we live in the trees, as the Galadhrim in Lorien? Or rather in a house like those of Men, as Elrond did? I was startled from my thoughts as I crashed into something warm and slightly yielding. “Excuse me . . . oh, good evening, Legolas.” I looked up, finding myself facing my son, Vanwalas. He smiled curiously at me – down at me, that is. He had inherited Glorfindel’s height. Beside him stood Thorondir, no less tall, my son’s pale lover. They made a sight together. I shook myself awake enough to smile back. “Good evening. How are the two of you?” “We’re fine,” Thorondir said. “The rain’s just stopped.” “Yes,” I said, noticing for the first time the absence of the sound of rain. The only noise was the flickering crackle of the torches and our steady breathing. “I thought I should tell you that we leave in the morning for Ithilien.” They shared a look; I knew that glance, the passage of knowledge between two who love as lovers. “We are ready,” Vanwalas replied, giving me another curious stare. “Are you . . . all right, Legolas?” “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Go on, get ready to leave. Our departure should be prompt.” With that, I resumed my wandering down the halls, delaying telling Glorfindel. If I knew him as I thought I knew him, he would attempt to right what was wrong within me, to fix what was not broken. He little understood what it meant to live beneath the same roof as my father, the potential danger we faced. I entered my room. Glorfindel sat on the bed, unbraiding his hair for the night. “Good evening, Legolas!” he greeted me brightly. “I haven’t seen much of you today. Where have you been?” I remained silent as I sat beside him on the bed. I dreaded telling him. Surely he would overreact . . . “I have something to tell you,” I said. “But you must promise me that you will do nothing very excitable.” “Well now I am especially curious,” he said, still in his perpetual good mood. Still, I think he sensed my unease for his expression became somber. “But I promise not to do anything deplorable, Calwaquén.” I gritted my teeth, preparing myself for his reaction. “I spoke with my father today,” I began. “It is worse than I had thought. Not only does he disapprove of us, he also disapproves of Vanwalas.” “ ’Tis his own problem,” Glorfindel answered. “You do not understand!” I cried. I buried my face in my hands. “Ai, no, he did it before and he’ll do it again! I will remove my son from his oppression!” “What are you saying, Legolas?” Glorfindel asked, concerned. “If it was only disapproval I would not be worried,” I muttered. “If any other Elf were my father I would not be worried. Pain can only come from our remaining here! We must go, far away where he cannot reach us!” I looked him in the eyes. He thought me not in my right mind, that was clear enough, and maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I spoke truth! “You remember as well as I do how I was ejected from Greenwood so many years ago, and me his own son! And I was so scared, Glorfindel. That will never happen to him, not if I can help it!” “Calm down, Legolas!” he said, taking me in his arms and stroking my hair. “You worry yourself too much!” “We leave in the morning,” I said. His arm muffled my voice. “I cannot stay here any longer, Glorfindel. We must leave.” He sighed deeply, and it was instinct for me to sigh with him. I felt my body calming, my raging thoughts assembling themselves again into order. “Please, my love,” I said. “Take me from this place. It is not safe for us.” He sighed again. “If you wish it, Legolas, we will go. We need stay here no longer.” His hand stroked my hair again. “Quiet yourself. There is no need to worry. Come now, we can sleep.” He pulled me down, encircling me with his arms, as I proceeded to calm myself. Whatever brief, fearful madness had come upon me faded. Glorfindel slept peacefully next to me. There was no sign of worry on his face. Once I was sure he would not wake, I carefully peeled his arms from my waist and rose from the bed. He shifted slightly, accustoming himself to my absence, and returned to his deep sleep. I wandered around the room, touching my possessions tenderly and reverently. We would be unable to bring most of my old belongings, the paintings that hung on my walls, most of the books on my shelves. I was about to leave behind my old life. Silently I crept out of my room and down the halls. The rest of the City slept in quiet peace. I met not another waking soul on my midnight sojourn to the forest. Once outside, I breathed the fresh, sparkling air. I loved the purity of sight and scent that came after the clean Mirkwood showers. The trees murmured comfortingly around me. It was with sorrow that I bid my woods goodbye. I stretched out on the ground, uncaring of the water-soaked moss that transferred its moisture to my clothing, ignoring the fat drops of water falling from the leaves. A dense fog had descended that night, making the scene all the more ethereal. I could hear the stars singing even through the heavy clouds that shrouded my forest. I wondered dreamily if Ithilien could ever hold such a claim on my heart. “Legolas?” asked a hesitant voice. I looked up to see Vanwalas standing before me. “I don’t wish to disturb you.” “Nonsense,” I replied. “Why are you out so late, youngling?” “I couldn’t sleep,” he answered. He took a few steps closer. “It’s cold tonight. Why are you out here?” I gestured for him to sit beside me. He complied, tucking his cloak tight about his body. “It’s a farewell, of sorts,” I said. “I don’t think I will return.” “It isn’t my fault, is it?” “What isn’t your fault?” “That we’re leaving.” I looked sharply at him; his gaze was turned away. “Why would you think that?” “Thranduil doesn’t like me,” he said. His smile was grim. “I can’t even call him ‘grandfather.’ ” “I think we have stayed too long already,” I said, half to myself. I put an arm around his shoulder, comforting him if he wanted it. “There was nothing you could have done differently. And you must understand, Vanwalas. It is not you he is angry at. It is I. I don’t know if he can ever forgive me for doing what I did with your father and loving you despite his animosity. He’s taking it out on you, and that is not fair.” “But we can’t leave now!” he exclaimed. He looked me right in the eyes, his sparkling black eyes from my side of the family. “You love this forest! It won’t be because of me that you leave. I wouldn’t be the cause for your sorrow.” “Hush now,” I said, putting a kiss on his forehead. “I need to leave, Vanwalas. I will be sad to go, but it is something I must do. Living with my father is like living with poison. He is already affecting you, and I had hoped against that.” “Was this how it was?” he asked. “How what was?” “When you found out you were with child.” I smiled and held him closer. “Not quite, little one,” I answered. “But that is a story best left for when we are out of this place.” He nodded and sighed, resting his head against my shoulder. Soon enough his breathing was even and deep. I mused that it was the second time he had slept in my arms, and I cherished the moment. Despite my words to my father, I wondered if Glorfindel and I would ever have another child. Perhaps Vanwalas had been a singular experience, never to be repeated. I hoped not. ~ Dawn and Glorfindel, both shining golden, found us beneath the tree. “Legolas,” he said, shaking my shoulder. “Legolas, you should wake! If you want to leave today, we must leave soon.” I reluctantly cleared my eyes of sleep. Glorfindel looked down upon us, a broad smile on his face. “What are you grinning at?” I asked. He gestured silently to my arms. Vanwalas lay there, still deep in his dreams. His hands were tangled in my hair and my shirt, and he seemed utterly content to remain so. I shifted gently, attempting to wake him without startling him. “Youngling, it is time to wake. And I would have to ask that you unhand my hair.” He stirred as he woke. He frowned at first in confusion, then saw us looking curiously at him. “Oh, sorry, Legolas,” he said, relinquishing his hold on me. “I never meant to fall asleep out here.” “No harm is done. But we must be off soon. Go and wake Thorondir.” It seemed a long while before we were finally packed and ready to depart, though in truth it was only a short time. Gimli had “bequeathed” Arod to me – “I can’t ride that blasted horse anyway, Elf!” he had exclaimed. He would make his way towards the Lonely Mountain on foot, as a dwarf should, he said. So I stood arrayed with my mismatched group, horses packed, and ready to leave. My family, of course, wished to say their good-byes. “Oh, Legolas, I will come visit you!” Harmae exclaimed, enveloping me in an embrace. “I know you will, sister,” I said, returning the embrace with a kiss. “Keep yourself well in my absence.” “The same goes for you, little brother,” Brethildur said, giving me one of his rare, wry smiles. “Don’t do anything too incorrigible.” “I can’t promise you anything, Brethildur,” I answered with my own grin. “Will you visit me as well?” “Ah, I should be loath to leave my brother to fend for himself out in the wilderness of the lands of Men!” he said. He ruffled my hair. “I should only come if Harmae drags me there.” This earned him a glare from our sister. “Oh, Legolas, do not worry,” Mother said, hugging me unexpectedly. “Your father will come around, just wait and see.” “I have no father,” I said bitterly. She smoothed my hair in attempt to comfort. “Trust me, dear, he will come around. But I look forward to seeing my grandchildren!” She smiled widely at Vanwalas, who eagerly returned the expression. He apparently had no trouble accepting his grandmother. “Farewell, Mother,” I said, kissing her cheek. “Farewell, Legolas,” she answered. “Do take care of yourself?” “I will. Where is Tathernil?” “I am here, Legolas.” I spun around to see Tathernil on his horse, along with his wife and daughter, standing with the rest of our small company. “Tath?” I asked in astonishment. “What are you doing?” “I’m coming with you,” he answered, tossing his head. “What does it look like?” I smiled widely. “That is good, brother.” “Farewell, all of you!” Mother cried. “Take care of yourselves!” I mounted Arod and made ready to depart, but there was a soft touch on my shoulder. “Legolas?” I found myself looking into the eyes of Lossuriel, a she-Elf I had known since childhood. There was another group of Elves standing behind her, all on their horses as well. “Lossu? What is it?” “We are coming too,” Gwaewen proclaimed. Her auburn hair shone in the sunlight. “We will come with you to Ithilien.” There was an odd sense of triumph rising in me. I had the beginnings of another Elf City willing to follow me, a small vengeance against my father. I faced forward again. “On we go!” I proclaimed, leading the company southwards. ~ Well, this is the product of my twisted mind forced into working late at night. See what I mean when I say Thranduil’s a bitch? Yeah. Well, I hope you all liked it. It’s a bit more angsty than that last chapter. Tell me what you thought: neldluva@hotmail.com Up next: Legolas goes to Ithilien and discovers an interesting surprise. Hmm, how will everybody else react? Good news, my loyal followers! I’ve started an LJ! I’m posting some stories there that you’ve never seen before, and I’m sure they’re wonderful. Here’s the link: http://www.livejournal.com/users/neldluva/ Something that would be beyond cool would be to see some artwork based on my story. I’m just curious to see how other people picture my characters. So send me your pictures and I’ll post them on my LJ, just as soon as I figure out how it works. Thanks.