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Aearlinn	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 8921 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Aearlinn - Siniath Chwiniol

He opened the cabinet with a two-handed yank, a faintly jarring pull that popped both doors wide at once, expressive of passive impatience tending slowly toward aggravation. In disgruntled confusion Elrond peered inside; the desired scroll was not within. He had certainly put it there with care and no small amount of pride, 'there' being the new book stack constructed after the incident with Glorfindel on the afternoon of Ened Ethuil. Assured it was safe, he'd thought of it no more until tonight. He was hoping to use it as a means to deepening his understanding of Legolas' enigmatic Naneth, who had thus far successfully evaded all his inquiries, no matter how politely phrased, regarding the history of his uncles, Eluréd and Elur�n.

The scroll he sought was a family heirloom, something he was sure would pique her interest, and indeed her eyes had brightened when he'd casually mentioned he had it in his possession. It should most certainly be here and no other place, yet the space boasted only the small collection of journals and letters his parents had either kept or exchanged with one another over the years.

Elrond considered sharing those but decided against it. They could hold no worth for the Winter Queen; priceless treasures though they were to him. There were not many of them and all were carefully, meticulously catalogued and cared for; none but himself, his children, and Erestor permitted to handle them. These were the only link Elrond had to his parents that was genuine, common place enough to remind him that they were real people, not just story-book legends, and had lived lives much as any other wedded couple once.

Once, though how long ago that was. What is there life like now, I wonder? Do the Valar permit them to dwell as husband and wife or must they remain the icons of hope and fortitude those of us here in Middle-earth so desperately require them to be? Did they make new children to replace Elros and me?

The Elven Lord found this idea, first proffered as a malicious taunt by other elflings in Lindon, depressing and upsetting. He'd not thought of this in over two Ages and that disturbed him as much as the demeaning remark itself. It has been a stressful time. Truth be told, he'd not felt his best since his 'talk' with Thranduil. The promised discussion concerning the dowry and the compensation loomed but no more had been spoken concerning it since Thranduil's abstruse reference on the evening of his arrival. What was he waiting for? Was Elrond expected to bring it up? He couldn't guess, Lindir hadn't a clue, Erestor was useless, reduced to lurking in the shadows to avoid Thranduil's piercing stares, and Glorfindel, having unexpectedly formed a fast friendship with the Sindarin King, thought Elrond was over-reacting. Typically, Elrond had not broached the subject with Legolas.

The welcoming feast was now nearly a week in the past and the bulk of the sylvan Elves were ensconced somewhere in the deeps of the wild woods in the northern-most quadrant of Imladris. The Royal Family, as Thranduil and his immediate relations had come to be known, were housed in the East Wing of the Last Homely House, this being the location of the very best guest rooms in the estate. Every evening was spent with the noble moriquendi and practically every supper transformed into a party to which various members of Imladris' finest families managed to get themselves invited. During these soirees, the Noldorin nobles extended invitations of their own which many of Thranduil's people accepted. Elrond had not had much opportunity to engage his beloved Wood Elf's parents on more than a social level and he was becoming steadily more disconcerted by the discontinuity of his interactions with them.

Nay, it isn't that we've had no opportunity to foster fellowship; Legolas' family is resistant to my overtures. No matter how graciously I present myself, my efforts are repeatedly rebuffed.

Around a group of any size, Thranduil and Rhûn'waew were friendly and engaging, poking fun at the numerous small blunders made by the Wood Elves or by Elrond's folk, always blaming the disparity in customs and lauding the chance to learn of foreign ways. In private, they were quiet and reserved, watching him with discerning eyes, listening to every word intently as if they might discover some deeper meaning within them, speaking in solemn tones and minimal phrases as though to safeguard secret knowledge. As for Aras, he did not even attempt to be civil, sneering and scowling and uttering deriding guffaws and bald insults whenever he was in Elrond's presence.

Which is far too often for my taste. Grieving or not, that Elf is loathsome and I wish there was a polite way to eject him from my home.

Elrond frowned, surprised to recognise such a whiney, petulant twist to his thoughts, and tried to correct it. He has suffered a severe blow in his Adar's death. This strategy failed, for the truth was that Aras stood at the core of his discontent and the Elven Lord was convinced he was at the heart of Legolas' nervousness, also. That certainty compounded his displeasure, for instead of being carefree and happy over the long-awaited reunion with his kin, Legolas was anxious and jumpy. In fact, the sylvan archer was expending great efforts to stay out of Aras' way, to the point of enlisting Faelon as a sort of spy to learn what activities the Crowned Prince planned for the day so as to be sure to do something entirely different. Elrond didn't understand why the Royal Grandparents didn't settle the issue, but felt it would be improper for him to intervene. Yet the day was coming when he would no longer be able to hold his tongue, for the strain was taxing Legolas' reserves.

I promised myself to put Legolas' needs first. Aras can't be permitted to endanger his health.

While all these thoughts jumbled around inside his brain, Elrond stood before the cabinet poking through the bound journals and stacks of letters as if the large scroll he wanted could somehow be hiding between them. Staring at the fading spines and ribbon-bound rolls would not make it appear; with an irritated sigh he shut the doors, shutting up his dark musing at the same time, and moved to the next cupboard. He pried it open, viewed the interior with a frown, and closed the doors, once more peeved that the document was not where it belonged. It was not in the next cabinet either, or the one after that, which contained the compiled first-hand accounts from survivors of the destruction of Beleriand, just what was supposed to be in there. He went through the entire row of cupboards without success, growing more agitated by the moment.

"This is unacceptable," he grumbled aloud, his mood quickly rising from morose to murderous as he turned and strode back to the doorway. When he found who had it, he would…

"Elrond? Beloved, what is wrong?" Legolas came across the threshold and almost ran straight into the scowling Elven Lord. They reached for and caught one another for reassurance as much as to forestall the collision.

Elrond's visage transformed at once and he smiled into the sylvan archer's worried eyes. "Nay, nothing you have done," he said immediately, for there was no doubt Legolas was still concerned that he might be angry about the deception played upon him.

"Are you certain? You've been rather distracted these last few days. I realise what a shock meeting my Adar was and regret not telling you before hand," Legolas blurted out, anxiously searching the guarded eyes gazing into his.

This was not a look he liked to see and his remorse was real. He so badly needed Elrond's support right now. For all the show of gladness and goodwill upon arrival, the Wood Elves were no more convinced this marriage was wise than the nobles of Imladris had been. Much too late, Legolas realised setting his beloved up on such a massive scale might have conveyed the impression that he had little respect for his intended. Indeed, Galion and Fennas think I'm out for revenge. Thus far, he'd managed to keep this fact from Elrond, but the steward and the councillor were actively trying to convince the other Elders to reject Elrond's suit. Should that happen, he didn't know what Elrond might do. The possibility of a permanent rift between the realms loomed, along with the fear that he might have to face losing his family all over again.

Elrond contemplated his mate in surprise. He seemed distracted? No wonder the Wood Elves were always sending him such cold looks; they thought he was behaving pompous and aloof. "Is that what your family thinks?"

Legolas' brow wrinkled in confusion. "I'm not sure they've made up their minds what to think yet," he said cautiously. "Nana believes it's going to be all right, but Ada is still trying to understand what I see in you and whether or not that's good for me, though he certainly doesn't deny what he sees between us."

"I see," said Elrond, "at least I think I do. I can't seem to draw them out. Have they said anything to you explaining their reticence?"

Legolas pondered a moment before shaking his head. "Nay, nothing specific. Aras has only nasty things to say but Ada always silences him. Adar looks at me with a strange mix of surprise and sorrow and asks 'so you truly love this Elf?' Every now and again he just comes over and hugs me for no reason. Nana watches you like a fox stalking grouse but I don't think it is with animosity, at least not like Aras'.
"I can't understand it," a light shrug punctuated his obvious quandary. "Your formal greeting was delivered with impeccable aplomb, your gifts were tasteful and well-chosen, offered with just the correct posture of respectful humility and pride. The rooms provided are exquisite, the hospitality superb. There have been outings and events every day and the staff has treated every request made of them as if it came from your own lips."

Elrond visibly relaxed and even puffed up a little bit, a faint smile breaking out through the clouds of gloom that flitted through his sombre grey eyes.

"Things should improve once the Council of Elders approves your formal petition to join the House of Eärendil to the House of the Beeches," Legolas surmised. "What was it you came in here to get?"

"I wanted Rhûn'waew to see the scroll of our genealogy. I have kept it safe just as it was given to me, for I was eldest and trusted with the task, though still but a child. This came to me from my mother, who received it from the hands of Nimloth even as she breathed her last. The document was created by Beren and his name is there upon it in his own hand. This he did after the Valar returned him and his beloved Luthien to life here in Middle-earth."

Legolas' face lit up with excitement. "She will be most pleased to see this," he enthused, but his smile faltered as he read the chagrin on his husband's features. "What has happened?"

"It isn't here, as it should surely be, and I don't mind admitting that has me severely vexed. No one should have it out of the cabinet much less this room. There is a copy in the common archives for any who wish to study it."

"Ai! That is serious. It is unconscionable to try to steal another's history. Who would do such a thing?" Then an idea struck Legolas. "Perhaps Erestor has borrowed it, for he has ties to your family also."

Elrond was nodding, though his mind was stuck on what Legolas had said, wondering if the sylvan really believed one could abscond with a person's personal history by taking possession of its written account. Aearen often said things that did not entirely make sense and Elrond had always attributed this to a lack of fluency in Sindarin. Now that he knew Legolas had been very well educated and spoke at least five languages, he would need to re-evaluate everything his young mate uttered. Thranduil's dire warning rose up; was this expression indicative of some general sylvan mindset about destiny or was it one of the things that had changed about Legolas, a sign of unseen damage to the intellect?

He studied Legolas' face and form, trying to judge objectively from a healer's perspective only, but found it impossible. How could he know what was different about Aearen? Legolas had been so severely ill, so near to death for so long, that every small improvement was welcomed and encouraged. There was nothing to which he could compare this personality, this unique, inquisitive, fascinating and sometimes maddening persona.

Legolas would know. Does he sense this difference his Adar perceived? Is this part of his grief, too, that he is no longer who he was, who he was destined to be? Elrond peered intently into the fathomless blue orbs, searching for signs of regret, sorrow, disappointment, resignation; anything that would give him a clue to what might be going on in that stunningly beautiful head.

"Elrond?" Legolas blinked, the intensity of the examination making him self-conscious all of a sudden. He shifted as though to step back and suddenly the grip upon his arms tightened to painful proportions and he was drawn close to the tall Noldorin Elf Lord.

"Ai, Legolas, what have I done to you? I meant no harm, really, truly; I meant you no harm," whispered Elrond desperately, burying his fingers in the golden mane, lifting the silken strands to his nose, inhaling deeply the scent he so loved.

Unbidden, all the things a healer knew could go wrong during childbirth inundated his thoughts, things he could not bear to imagine. Why hadn't he inquired about Legolas' ability to conceive? Because I assumed he was sterile, as have been all Elves I've come across with his peculiar reproductive configuration. The great Healer; I was so sure I knew everything. Now he must face that he was entirely ignorant of sylvan physiology and could only guess at possible complications that might arise as the pregnancy progressed.

Elrond had witnessed numerous disasters among female births that robbed husband and father of wife and child all in the space of hours, though successful nativities out numbered those tragedies here in Imladris. Folk were wary and cautious about producing young and planned long in advance, making sure of their health first. Never had Elrond known any Elf in poor condition attempt life-bearing, and he was now forced to admit that Legolas was definitely not as robust as he should be. He could lose them both at any time during gestation, not knowing what signs to look for or what treatment to use to prevent it. The fear assailed him with such violent intensity that his heart skipped and thudded painfully. "Elbereth, it is too much to bear," he groaned, low and desolate.

Legolas became frightened. "Nín'ódhel," he murmured gently, "you have done no harm to me. What has made you so distraught?" The woodland archer was at a loss, attempting and failing to figure out how the theft of the genealogy scroll was related to this sudden despair. Often he had this difficulty, unable to piece together how Elrond's thoughts flowed, finding the ways of Noldorin logic convoluted and confusing. Was Elrond fearful that having lost the scroll, he might lose who he was?

Mayhap he fears to become something lesser, someone who would not be chosen to lead Imladris, someone unworthy of the son of Thranduil and Rhûn'waew. It was a strange idea, Legolas so used to the sense of superiority which clothed his beloved more closely than his finest robes. His face took on a grim expression of inflexible determination. "Don't be concerned about what my people think; position and power are nothing to me and I would be happy anywhere as long as we are together."

Elrond's brow tightened in a series of shallow grooves as he registered this, having no concept of what prompted it or how to respond. It did make him realise how close he'd just come to revealing his new worries and their source, something he dared not do, for what if Thranduil was right? Above all, he must not give Legolas any cause for guilty despair. He tried to smile, a poor representation being the result. Drained and pensive, he huffed out a little puff of a laugh. "Forgive me, Aearen; I'm still reeling from the shock of meeting your parents. It was quite a joke, wasn't it? Poor Erestor has never been so quiet and unobtrusive. Why, your people must think him a pale reflection of the exalted reputation by which he is known far and wide."

"Aye, he's been somewhat elusive," Legolas said absently, wondering if this was the time to describe how little amusement he presently derived from the prank. "There can be no question of suitability now, can there?"

"I should think not," laughed Elrond uneasily, "not on the part of my people, at least."

Well, that was a perfect segue for exactly what was troubling Legolas, but the uncanny way Elrond brought it up made him shy from taking his cue. Instead he alluded to the other concern on the horizon. "The nobles are being so nervously polite and accommodating, inviting Ada and Nana to outings, hunts, and parties, all the while quaking deep in their souls, anxious about what their former arrogance will cost them."

"Ah yes, the compensation," Elrond's frown returned. He hadn't wanted to ask Legolas before, thinking his questions might be misconstrued as criticism of sylvan customs or complaints about the penalty to be levied. The very last thing he wanted was more cause for contention between himself and his mate, but now the topic seemed a welcome distraction. "Can you tell me what that entails?"

Legolas shook his head. "I've no idea; nothing like this has ever happened before, not in my memory at least. No bond of extremity has ever been left in that state, or if so it was kept quiet out of respect for the families of the debased Elf."

Elrond flinched at the harsh characterisation. "Elbereth, I've been such an ignorant, arrogant fool. If only I'd listened to my heart we'd be married and none of this would be an issue. Do you think your Adar's Council will accept our union?" And what will you do if they don't? Secretly, Elrond feared a permanent breech with Greenwood and if that happened, Legolas might succumb to grief. The result of that was too grim to admit, even internally.

"They will. Rest assured that nothing will stand in the way of legitimising your bond to my son," the softly lyrical voice behind them was limned with iron-willed determination. The lovers turned to find the Winter Queen regarding them in bemused indulgence from the doorway, her eyes alight upon Elrond's hand where it rested on Legolas' hind quarters. She moved forward into the room and shut the portal behind her. "We will know soon enough about the restitution demands for Thranduil has called the Council to convene this evening at Ithil's zenith. It is partly to discuss this that I have sought you out, Elrond."

"I would be grateful for any insight you could give me," Elrond dipped his head politely and relocated his fingers to a more conservative placement at the small of his beloved's back.

"Naneth, don't you think it would be best to discourage that part of the Council? All is well now and Imladris will make an excellent ally for Greenwood," suggested Legolas hopefully, following Elrond's lead and establishing a suitable distance between them.

"No." It was Elrond who spoke. "I am not willing to spare my people, or even myself, the just resolution of this grievance between our realms. It must be so, else the nobles here may mistake lenity for contempt, imagining your people hold you to blame for the disgrace wrought upon their nation."

"This is true," nodded Rhûn'waew, appraising her son carefully. It was evident to her that he was attempting to shield Elrond from the reality. His initial decision not to divulge his heritage she understood, but to have permitted his intended to continue in ignorance was petty and adolescent behaviour. Now, he couldn't find the means to admit to Elrond how damaging his ill-favoured prank had been. She sighed; here was borne out her principal complaint against Legolas marrying: he was simply too young to appreciate fully his responsibilities and obligations. What he needs is another fifty years to mature.

So she had told Thranduil when the petitions started pouring in from all over Greenwood, Lothlorien, and Mithlond. There had even been an appeal from the human King in Dale. No sooner had Legolas reached majority than rumour of his unique nature and phenomenal beauty began to spread. Rhûn'waew knew this was mainly due to her husband's justified pride in their youngest son. That, and the pressing need to secure a solid alliance with another Elven realm, not for a military treaty so much as a trade partner. Greenwood was suffering from the ever increasing predation of Shadow's servants and subsisted in a continual state of war with Dol Guldur. Keeping the warriors armed and provisioned drained the forest's resources and the entire populace endured the privations this engendered. Legolas had become the most valuable asset Thranduil possessed and he'd been effusive in broadcasting that intelligence.

Legolas was not ready; he'd never confided a romantic interest in any Elf before the fateful excursion to Mithlond. He didn't even know the real reason for the journey and his inclusion in the delegation. With the approval of the Elders, but without Legolas' knowledge, the King had accepted the formal petition from Galdor of Mithlond, and it was for this the failed mission had been arranged. The worthy Sindarin Lord had wished to acquaint himself with his unique fiancé hoping to win the youth's love, or at least his admiration and friendship. Rhûn'waew had no intention of informing Legolas of the arranged marriage. It was pointless, for here stood her elfling before her, bonded and bearing the babe of his mated spouse. And very much in love.

"I just thought it would be good diplomacy for the Elders to be generous," Legolas said. "A formal apology from the Lord of Imladris should be enough; after all the people here know nothing of sylvan ways."

"Allow your Adar to determine what is best for Greenwood and our House," Rhûn'waew advised. "There is no benefit in sealing the bark of a beetle-infested tree. It is too late; the damage has already been done." At this Legolas cringed and could not hold her gaze nor meet Elrond's. His cheeks paled and he heaved a heavy sigh. Rhûn'waew's heart ached to see her child so distraught. On top of all this, she had news to reveal that was sure to be a shock for Legolas to learn and she dreaded his reaction, and to some extent Elrond's also. It was enough to test any mother's soul and the Winter Queen drew a resigned breath.

"As I said, I will ensure nothing compromises the ratification of the proposed union. Beyond that, I feel certain your pregnancy will mitigate the worst outcome, Iest Nín, but the debt must be paid. Now, I would like to speak to both of you on another topic. Is there a private place to which we may retreat?"

"We won't be disturbed here," assured Elrond, indicating a chair beside the desk.

"Thank you, though perhaps it is Legolas who should sit," said Rhûn'waew, gracing her son with a melancholy smile as she took the seat Elrond pulled out for her. As expected, that comment garnered all attention and the impending meeting was forgotten at once.

"Why should I sit?" asked Legolas warily, perching on the edge of the desk to appease her.

"I intended to tell you right away but then Fennas brought us your news. I was too concerned over all that and when I saw you, I could think of nothing else but your health and your babe's. You were so excited over revealing us to your beloved's people and of course Thranduil thought the joke grand, so my desire to speak with you privately was ignored. Then again, the journey was trying and my healer has warned me to be cautious. I decided to wait."

Legolas' stood, alarmed, and took his mother by the hands, looking her over in apprehensive concentration. "What is wrong? Why is Gladhadithen worried about your health?" he demanded, adding: "You look fine to me. Is it a lingering weakness from grieving?"

Rhûn'waew laughed gently and pulled her child close, hugging him tight. "Ah, ionneth, I am indeed fine. Do not fret for that is not what I would have. My news is joyous."

"Then what is it?" asked Legolas impatiently, shrugging loose to see her eyes, not noticing the light of comprehension dawning on his mate's face.

"Elbereth be praised," the Elven Lord announced, "you're pregnant!"

Legolas looked back at him, annoyed. "Yes, this we all know," he said drily but then noticed Elrond's eyes tracking over his Naneth, that calculating, evaluating quality his visage assumed whenever his healing ability was required. Legolas switched back to his mother instantly, suspecting the truth, the question within his eyes as he met hers. She nodded, a bright smile overtaking her countenance. "You are?" he asked, incredulous at first and then a new realisation exploded in his mind, so obvious he was stunned it hadn't been clear to him before. A soft blush stole over his features. "Galbreth?" he asked shyly and heard Elrond's quick intake of breath as once again Rhûn'waew signalled confirmation.

"I wondered why you didn't think of this," she said softly, "when Fennas told us about your babe. I understand now, though, and it was a good thing you wanted to do, Legolas, but unnecessary. You were not the cause for his death. Anyway, I think Galbreth would prefer to be born to your Ada and me, don't you?"

Legolas nodded silently, absolutely embarrassed not to have realised his parents would choose to recreate their lost sons in their proper order, awaiting the same signs for which he had looked. He dared a glance at Elrond to see how her news would be met, for it was undeniable that Legolas had made his decision to create life without considering this at all. There was no indication of anger but that strange new expression he couldn't name was out in full, an admixture of dread and regret and hope. It made his heart pound unsteadily. "I guess Tinu Mîn is truly our child," he said.

"He was never anything else," responded Elrond sincerely, moving to gather Legolas from his mother's side, "reborn soul or not; he was always only ours, Aearen."
For all his reassuring words, Elrond was nothing less than dumbfounded, recalling all Thranduil had said to him earlier, for if Galbreth was to be born again to his natural parents, how could Legolas feel any guilt about putting his unborn brother at risk? His gaze flickered to the Queen and saw comprehension in her eyes; Rhûn'waew was aware of the test her husband had set for their son's suitor.

All a ruse; all of it.

He should be glad Legolas was well, yet the trick rankled. The silence was growing awkward and he felt Legolas' grip on his arm tighten. He met his beloved's worried gaze and saw the truth anew. Not all of it was a farce, for Legolas was seriously depleted, even as his Adar had said.

That was far more upsetting to Elrond, for while he was growing to love his youngest child, he'd had no idea of making another elfling and love for Legolas was greater still at this point. Now he was sick at heart, thinking how his pig-headed arrogance had kept him from understanding Aearen for so long. Had he known of the sylvans' peculiar notions about rebirth, Elrond might have pointed out the likelihood of the King and Queen's desire to reincarnate their eldest son. Together, he and Legolas could have faced the crushing guilt and discovered a solution that did not include a risky pregnancy.

"Garo Sîdh, garo sîdh," said Rhûn'waew serenely, the absolution meant for both her son and law-son, for she knew the mounting fears of the latter and the weighty remorse sure to inundate the former before the night was gone. "All will be well and things turn out for the best. Iest Nín, your desire for this babe was and is so strong, I have no doubt the Valar will grant you whatever grace you need to see it through. As long as your mate is by your side, nothing untoward should occur. You are young for life-bearing, 'tis true enough, but no Elf has greater courage and fortitude than you. Yet one thing I do advise."

Legolas stared at her, his expression that of stunned confusion. One thought clouded his mind, an idea so grave that he scarcely heard his mother's comments and blurted out his bewilderment. "But, then, who is this babe if not Galbreth?" Unconsciously, his hand sought Elrond's and gripped on tightly when the familiar palm encircled his. Until this instant, he hadn't been the least bit concerned about bringing a babe into the world. Now, the idea of the child growing within him filled him with apprehension. What did he know of caring for an elfling? Nothing! I've deliberately refused to learn anything about it at all.

Rhûn'waew smiled gently and patted her son's middle. "He is new, Legolas. A new soul, called into being by the desperate love and duty weighing upon your heart. This babe is both a child of hope and a child of sorrow, Iest Nín; an elfling wanted with fierce devotion by one parent, and yet an elfling unimagined by the other. It is undoubtedly a confusing experience for him. It is up to you and Elrond to make these things clear to him. That is why it's so important that you two…" The rest of her advice was cut off for the second time.

"Oh, Tinu Mín," whispered Legolas, his voice stricken and tear-choked, his free hand covering his Naneth's where it lay upon the hidden child. "I didn't mean…" He couldn't complete the thought and at once another hand cloaked his as Elrond bent to kiss his cheek.

"Nae! What is this?" he murmured into a delicately pointed ear, turning Legolas to him as Rhûn'waew withdrew. "There is no cause for regrets or tears. Aearen, our child will be both healthy and happy for we are here to ensure exactly that. Indeed, what a blessed child our babe is, claiming the love and allegiance of two of elvendom's greatest realms! He shall learn sword-craft from Glorfindel of Gondolin, archery from Greenwood's finest warrior, his Ada, and diplomacy and state-craft from a King. He will be wondrous, Aearen, and we will love him dearly."

"He's right, Iest Nín, your son will be magnificent and will play a role in the great events of his time. Fear not," his Nana added kindly. In truth the babe's future was a blur and she was deeply concerned that as yet she could not see the elfling's face in her inner heart, something she had experienced with her sons and every grandchild born thus far. This was not an omen she would report to Legolas.

Legolas inhaled deeply and settled close against Elrond's heart, somewhat appeased by his mate's glowing predictions but still fearful. He was naturally intuitive in his own right and easily picked up the undertone of uneasiness in his mother's reassurances, echoes of his own. Why it should be so he could not define, yet knowing the life within him was not Galbreth somehow lent the babe's existence an aura of doubt. Galbreth, ordained by the Valar to return to life, must therefore be born and live again. This unknown soul, called into being by its Ada's tormented guilt, who could guess its fate? Mayhap the Powers would deem Legolas unfit to raise a child and take Tinu Mín away.

He shivered and huddled closer, a fractious wail striving to get past his lips. He was aware of his heart racing and his lungs heaving to supply air, but the sense that he had doomed his elfling to dwell in Mandos overwhelmed him.

The next instant Legolas was scooped up off his feet, his legs having given out, and borne with haste in his beloved's arms, Rhûn'waew calling for the healer behind them.

TBC

~ ~ Glossary ~ ~

Siniath Chwiniol: Fantastic News

Garo sîdh: Be at peace

ionneth: young son

Maeth Imvelethryn: Fight between Lovers - Lover's Quarrel

Henduin: River Child - Rhûn'waew's pet name for her husband.

Indolen: Dream of my Heart - Thranduil's pet name for his wife

ind-an-faer: heart and soul

Tolo sí: Come here

Le Tobol Ista: Coming to Know You

Gladhadithen: Little Laugh, the Queen's healer

Úan Mîn: Our Monster

Sui adar, sui ion: Like father, like son

Arahen: royal child

talan chall: hidden talan

Iest Mín: Our Wish - pet name for Legolas used by his parents.

Iest Nín: My Wish

Ernil Vain: First Prince

Nae: Alas

Rhûn'waew: East Wind

Aras: deer, stag

Tinu Mín: our little star

Well, I know you've waited a long time for an update.This just wasn't coming together how I wanted it to but I feel better about it now. What we see here is a look at how the couple interact in the aftermath of the Wood Elves' arrival, with a glimpse at the underlying problems in communication that have plagued them from the start. Each one hopes to protect the other from a truth they think too burdensome to bear, and in Legolas' case he fears Elrond will find reason to be angry with him. Now, he does not believe Galion and Fennas would halt the marriage, but knows they are not above the idea of avenging their prince's honour. It is this he fears and hopes to avert, but even more fears to admit to Elrond what they might be up to. Then there is Aras to consider, a real pain in the arse. Eventually we'll uncover the cause for his aversion to Legolas and Elrond, and hopefully we'll at least understand him even if we can't excuse his behaviour.

Elrond's concerns are plain enough.

Legolas' mother had surprising news which puts her son's pregnancy in a different light. Legolas, as we see now (if we didn't before) is not good at thinking through all the possibilities. Maybe he should have realised his parents would try to reincarnate his brother, once their grief was conquered, but please remember he has been alienated from his home and family and had convinced himself that he was responsible for Galbreth's death. He was fearful to face them with that fact until he could also assure them of Galbreth's rebirth.

I know this is a terrible cliff-hanger, but the next part is already posted, so just click NEXT and your fears will be assuaged.
As always, thanks to one and all still reading and enjoying the story!

© 05/25/2008 Ellen Robey
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Aearlinn

Aearlinn - Siniath Chwiniol

~ ~ Glossary ~ ~