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Aearlinn	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 8916 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 31
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Aearlinn - Esgal Orthant

NOTE: This chapter was initially requested by stef and seconded by Vicky and then several more folks through the Guestbook. Here is a glimpse into Legolas' earliest days in Imladris. It is combined with the concerns Arwen feels over his decision to conceive without her father's knowledge or consent, so while it is slightly out of sequence in respect to the last chapter posted, it fits in well with the timing.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ We Retreat a Bit - A Few Days before Chapter 28 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Her hands reached deep into the dark and cluttered space, fingers groping through the garments, here touching upon cool metallic clasps and there upon fluid satin ties, navigating a forest of textures in colours dimmed by the low light, seeking, searching, sniffing, almost, as a hummingbird probes the blossoms, hunting for that one that holds the sweetest nectar. The prize Arwen sought was not so delectable but to her mind just as necessary and she explored with determined vigour as well as speed, for the room would not be so undefended for long. Her nails grazed a rough surface and a musty scent arose; a scent of death and decay. Repulsed, she could not prevent her morbid curiosity to see what her senses told her was some bizarre relic of battle. She drew forth the torn and blood-stained tunic Legolas had worn the day his brother died in battle; the day he had become Elrond's mate-by-bond.

She gasped, seeing in full light the long jagged rip across the front and the dark, dried patch that turned the leather from its initial sage to an ugly muddy hue. There were other cuts upon it, along the arms, especially the left, and one near the neckline that sported a spatter of dark drops in a random pattern that in a cruel way mimicked the delicate oak leaf embroidery with which the garment had been decorated. This one item would hold more than enough of Legolas' memories to serve her need, yet she would never choose it because it held too much. From this she could learn of the first days the Wood Elf had spent in her father's company, but the remnant horror of the battle infused the fabric and would over-shadow the emotions accompanying the new bond's formation. With a sigh she turned to replace the tunic, but before she could do so a frantic voice interrupted her.

"My Lady, please do not do that. Legolas doesn't like for anyone to handle his things, especially that specific thing; not even Lord Elrond disturbs that foul article."

Faelon was not the type of elf to wring his hands but had he been of such a nature this would be the very dilemma to prompt the action. He hovered just behind Lady Arwen's shoulder, torn between his duty and friendship to Legolas and his respect for the Evenstar. While he wavered, she shoved the garment once more to the back of the wardrobe and pulled opened the topmost inner drawer.

She had anticipated Faelon's return, having arranged for him to be sent on an errand of dubious value, and had availed herself of the short interval of time during which her father's apartment was deserted. Unbeknown to the nervous valet, she had already secured several strands of Legolas' hair from his comb upon the dresser and now required only one other article, something he carried nearly all the time, something he would have had with him when he first encountered her father. From such tokens she hoped to conjure the past and observe their unfolding relationship, learning what motives underpinned Legolas' immoral decision to conceive without his mate's knowledge or consent.

Faelon cringed as she turned and favoured him with a severe frown, unable to prevent a small step back from the vexation in that chilling stare.

"If you are troubled by my conduct then you may leave," said Arwen. "I will have answers about That Wood Elf and as no one else seems willing to divulge them, I will have to root them out myself."

Arwen was beyond anger by this point, having returned with all the speed she could coax from her horse and her guards, believing her father was on the verge of slipping away to Mandos, only to arrive at the ford and find that a great celebration was in progress. No one had thought fit to send a second messenger to intercept her entourage and relay the happy tidings: not only was her father about to formalise his relationship with Legolas, the lowly sylvan warrior was in actuality royalty. King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm had deigned to journey to Imladris, bringing all his kith and kin in tow to witness his youngest son's bonding ceremony. Were that not astounding enough, said youngest son was pregnant with Elrond's child.

Now, that last bit of shocking information had come through her grandfather just before her hasty departure from Lothlorien. He had done so, said the wise Lord, only so that she might comprehend the true seriousness of Elrond's danger, for Arwen had doubted the morbidity of her Adar's brief letter. When she'd left Imladris, Arwen had still been concerned that Legolas would suffer a broken heart because of her father's indifference to the Wood Elf's devotion. Celeborn's words erased those fears and in their place spawned the first sharp heart-pangs of jealousy and betrayal. To learn that Elrond was fully committed to Legolas and their babe, heart, mind, and soul, was one thing; to realise that Elrond hadn't shared his joyous news with his daughter was quite another. Arwen was used to being her father's favourite and the neglect stung.

"Nay, my Lady, I am not leaving," Faelon squared his shoulders and regained the ground he'd deserted seconds ago. "Legolas' peace of mind is not just my duty as his valet, but my concern as a true friend. He trusts me implicitly never to do what you are doing, or to permit anyone else such a liberty. Please stop this!"

His strong words did make Arwen falter in her ill-chosen task. A glance at the soft-spoken servant was enough to shame her and the look of disappointment and disillusionment in his sternly moulded features caused her cheeks to colour. More accustomed to Faelon's dreamy adoration and bashful compliments, she was definitely off the pedestal now. With a heavy sigh she looked at what she held in her hands and then back to the contents of the drawer. Her indiscriminate digging had left everything a cluttered mess: feathers, leaves, stones, arrowheads, blades, and scraps of leather and velum all jumbled together. Her heart sank; Legolas would surely know someone had rummaged amid his private property for there was no returning it to its previous state of order, as she hadn't bothered to take note of the contents' arrangement before starting her impulsive scavenging.

Of course I didn't; I meant for him to know.

She was not so pleased with that notion any longer and instead found her behaviour disturbing. Still, she could not bring herself to abandon her goal and hastily repressed her conscience, scanning the haphazard collection of trinkets desperately. Somewhere in this agglomeration was the key to unlocking Legolas' psyche and she would have it. Her eyes fell upon a golden broach made in the shape of an oak leaf. It was small, no larger than the pad of her thumb, but this did not prevent her from noting its refined design and the elegant craftsmanship that had produced it. That was the very thing indeed: an emblem of the Woodland Realm and, she suspected, a designation of Legolas' rank within his father's guard. He would have worn that proof of his commission with pride every day since its pinning upon his breast.

Yet how to snatch it up with Faelon watching her every move? In a second she made her plan, reaching for another object just beneath her hands: a small book of parchment bound in a brown suede cover, a green silk ribbon peeking out from the bottom where the sylvan had marked his place. Simultaneously, she palmed the small amulet and turned, permitting the vigilant valet to see what she held and remain blind to her purpose. Arwen had no doubt whatsoever that the small volume was a private journal; indeed, finding it had been among her hopes and reading it a goal she could achieve another day. For now, the book would serve to distract notice from the more crucial theft. She lifted her eyes to Faelon, filling their grey depths with imploring mortification, wordlessly begging him to remove the temptation from her before she committed so grave an error.

Comprehension was instantaneous and he gently removed the diary from her hands, stepping into her spot as she meekly moved aside.

"Thank you, my Lady. I have worked hard to earn Legolas' trust and friendship. If there is anything you wish to know, perhaps your father could supply the answers." As he spoke this quiet admonishment, Faelon set the drawer in order, laying the journal down in its proper spot, never noticing the absence of the oak leaf medallion, and shut the wardrobe up. Lady Arwen was clearly embarrassed by her indiscretion and he smiled to reaffirm his loyalty to her as well. "I will not say anything to Legolas. It would just upset him and that would make Elrond frantic and before you could blink the entire household would be in an uproar again."

"Again? What has been happening here?"

"It is all rather complicated, as the sylvan people have an unusual creed regarding rebirth, but I'll explain it as I understand it: Legolas believed his pregnancy was the will of the Valar, their means to giving his deceased brother Galbreth new life. However, his naneth, Queen Rhûn'waew, is also with child and of course that babe is really Galbreth, conceived on the same day as when first he'd been created. Well, Legolas became rather distraught about his decision, thinking the Valar would punish him and take the child from him. He had a spell of grieving sickness over it, according to the sylvan healer (and you mustn't repeat that to Legolas, he thinks it was just the momentary shock that made him collapse). Since then…"

"He collapsed?" Arwen inhaled in shock herself.

"Aye, but all is well. The healer said he was overcome with sorrow for 'losing' his brother again, though of course he hadn't really since the child never was Galbreth in the first place, and fraught with dread over this whole retribution of the Powers for making life without the knowledge and consent of his bond-mate. That is as serious an issue in the woodland realm as here."

"As it should be," Arwen agreed frowning as she thought about it.

Faelon's brows drew down in censure. "Perhaps so, but he really believed he was supposed to give Galbreth life anew. It has been very difficult for Legolas, my Lady, and I hope you will not judge him harshly." As he spoke he led her from the room, having finished his tidying up, and shut the door firmly behind him.

"Exigency is no excuse," Arwen preached, drawing herself up in rigid defiance to the lesser elf's impertinent remarks about her assessment of Legolas' sin. "What could possibly make him think he would be chosen to supply his brother new life? Surely, with both parents living, they would be the Valar's obvious choice. It seems more likely he used the concept to rationalise his decision. Legolas was seeking a means to legitimise his status and knew Elrond would never permit a child of his body to undergo the stigma of bastardy."

Before Faelon could voice his outraged rebuttal to this crass statement, more intruders encroached upon the Elven Lord's suite, bursting in and denouncing her utterly.

"We thought the same, but nothing could be further from the truth." The twin Lords of Imladris spoke in unison, eyes dark with indignation as they bore into Arwen's. They ignored her surprise to find them there and continued. "You were not here when we first brought Legolas home. He was desperately ill, in terrible agony as his depleted soul tried to rebuild his health, and terrified. It is not your place to judge him."

"Elbereth! Where did you spring from?" Arwen blurted out. "Glorfindel told me he'd had neither sign nor word of you."

"That's irrelevant," Elladan waved away her comment. "We are here and that's all you need to know. As for Legolas' reasons for creating life, your lack of compassion is really shocking to me, muinthel."

"Aye. When last we spoke, it was you advising us to stop harassing him," reminded Elrohir, "yet now you can do nothing but find fault."

Arwen flushed in chagrin, for this was true, yet her brothers' change of heart was suspicious in her eyes and offered a convenient segue from her guilt. Hands on hips, she glared at Elladan accusingly. "Yes, I recall just how thoroughly you condemned Legolas for 'ensnaring' Adar with the 'black arts of sylvan wiles' and 'flagrant display of wanton charms'. Now you stand here defending his honour? What prompted this sudden reversal of hostility?"

Now it was the Twins' turn to bluster and stammer, displaying equally flustered grimaces as they silently debated how to answer this without giving away the secret bond to their father's mate. It was Elrohir who made the first attempt.

"There's no pleasing you, is there? First you admonish us for being cruel to him and now you demand an accounting of our motives for being just. You simply wish to deflect attention from your own fall from grace. Admit it, you came in here to snoop around and ferret out Legolas' secrets."

"How dare you accuse me!" Arwen's voice was fittingly shrill and replete with insulted dignity.

"Aye, she did," Faelon piped up with morbid relish, delighted to tell the Twins since he'd promised not to tell Legolas. "Went right in the bedroom and tried to take Legolas' journal. Not that it would have been of aid in her nefarious scheme, for it's a pregnancy diary. No sylvan Wood Elf would keep something as private and personal as a daily journal so readily to hand. If Legolas has anything like that, it will be hidden away among his trees and most likely penned in some obscure Nandorin dialect none of us could read."

"A pregnancy diary?" All three of Elrond's children chorused together, the contention momentarily forgotten in favour of this unexpected revelation.

"Aye. Legolas writes in it every day, including any changes he notes and adding whatever comments Elrond has as well. Usually he asks my input, too," reported Faelon smugly, pleased to be on such intimate terms with the expectant couple. "Legolas is woefully ignorant regarding his unique physiology and admitted to me he hated being a male life-bearer when he was younger. He didn't want to be accorded special treatment and dreaded the day he would be espoused to one of his Adar's political allies, his freedom traded away for the good of his realm."

"Manwë's Breath, what a grim fate," intoned Elladan. Legolas had not relayed any of this to him or to Elrohir.

"I agree," said Faelon, "but life is not so easy in Greenwood, where even the Wood Elves have to correct themselves after calling it Mirkwood. That's why Legolas worked so hard to become a fierce warrior, hoping to convince his Adar that he was of greater value as a captain on the front lines than as a bargaining incentive. I can tell you becoming pregnant was the last thing he hoped would be in his future, so your unkind speculation is completely wrong, Arwen." He ignored her indignant exclamation and went on.

"He is as close to being terrified as I have ever seen him, excepting those early months of healing, and genuinely fears every change his body undergoes is a sign that the Valar mean to take the child back. The healer assured me his progress is normal, although due to his long illness and previous lack of support from his mate, the gestation and delivery will be taxing. It has nothing to do with judgement or punishment. To help him cope and preserve his peace of mind, she ordered him to start the diary. It's something she counsels all first-time pregnant males to do anyway."

"He's frightened?" asked Elrohir, eyes huge as he unconsciously reached for Elladan. "He never said anything."

"I think he's still unsure of how to manage things between us," Elladan remarked, gaze inward as he contemplated the situation, missing Arwen's bewildered stare. He doesn't know where the lines are: what it is proper to share with which of his mates.

"Aye, he must be very confused," murmured Elrohir. No doubt he feels he should keep worries about the child between him and the child's father. I wish it were otherwise for I would calm such fears.

"Well I know I am confused," said Arwen, "by your abrupt transformation from bitter enemy to valourous defender. You have as yet to explain how that came about. When did you learn of the pregnancy?"

"Before we left Imladris," replied Elladan tersely. "As for our change of heart, that is really due to Lindir's intervention. He explained things and made us see we were behaving like brutes."

"We've made our peace with Legolas," added Elrohir, "and it's best you do the same. The child will be born whether you approve or not and we intend to do everything possible to make his life joyful."

"Aye and we won't countenance any insults or accusations regarding Legolas' reasons. It isn't any of your business anyway," Elladan agreed.

"Not my business?" Arwen squawked. "Our Adar was tricked into creating another child he didn't want and you say it isn't right for me to demand an explanation from the perpetrator of such deceit?"

"It was not deceit," insisted Elrohir, raising his voice in frustration.

"What would you term it, then? He wasn't bound to Ada and he didn't ask if…" Arwen's strident response was cut off by Elladan.

"They were most certainly bound in every way the day we rescued Legolas," he thundered. "You should not speak of that for which you have no knowledge."

"I have knowledge of right and wrong," Arwen shouted back.

"And what of Ada's wrongs?" Elrohir raised his voice to match his siblings.

In mere seconds the three were embroiled in a loud and heated argument which attracted the notice of most of the household and drew Erestor from his office. The seneschal came hurrying up the stairs and down the hallway, shooing the curious back to their proper activities, and entered the apartment to find Faelon watching in amazed horror as the Lord's grown children reverted to behaviour elflings generally received punishments for displaying. They were just a step away from name-calling and hair-pulling when the Chief Advisor intervened. Once he silenced them and heard Arwen's charges, Erestor sought a diplomatic solution.

"There have been errors made on both sides," he counselled. "Elrond certainly should have made Legolas his legitimate mate and Legolas should have revealed his identity and all this stuff about bringing Galbreth back to life. However, if we must assign blame then it will have to fall upon Elrond."

"What?" Arwen rounded on him. "You are his kinsman and dearest friend and yet you support The Sylvan's claims foremost?"

"I am and I do," announced Erestor. He cast his shrewd eyes upon hers, searching for her true intent, and since he had known her from infancy this was not difficult to discern. He sighed and reached for her, laying a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "Arwen, you are blinded by unwarranted fear and jealousy. The new child will not replace you in your father's heart."

Arwen flushed scarlet, first angry and then embarrassed, for upon hearing this she recognised the truth within the words. The depth of her outrage was linked to the degree to which she felt slighted. Nonetheless, she was compelled to deny it. "I am not a child, Erestor, to doubt my parents' love. The fact remains: had Legolas been honest then Elrond would have made things right between them and this desire for a child could have been discussed openly, as it should have been."

"Well, he couldn't do that," argued Faelon, "not without exposing his family to shame and ridicule. In Greenwood, his status would be considered the very lowest and he would essentially be an outcast, degraded and humiliated by the fact that his bond-mate refused to recognise him. How could he permit the ruling family to absorb such a scandal? Then there's the problem of what political repercussions might result as well."

"Do you expect me to believe Legolas had any idea of protecting Imladris from his father's wrath?" Arwen scoffed.

"Why not? You are the one who was so assured of Legolas' devotion to Adar," snapped Elladan.

"And Legolas may not prefer to engage in the affairs of state but he certainly understands them," scolded Erestor. "Besides, even if none of those reasons occurred to him, he was in no fit state, mentally or physically, to make sound judgements. That is why the burden of doing the right or the wrong thing falls to Elrond. Legolas was utterly dependent upon him for most of that first year."

"Aye, it had to be dreadful, awakening among strangers, finding himself bound to one, learning who his saviour was," continued Elrohir. "If you'd seen it, you would understand."

"Then tell me," demanded Arwen, "make me see."

Her brothers both hung their heads in dismay. "We cannot, for we left two weeks after our return here. Of the journey home we can speak, but upon crossing the borders we refused to go near him again and left within days," Elladan explained for them both.

Before Arwen could accept this proposal, yet another elf entered the room, for the gossip regarding the contention between the Lord's children had spread quicker than wild fire. Glorfindel came through the door with such precipitate haste that the ornate cut crystal handle banged against the wall of the vestibule and left an ugly, cracked dent that rained bits of plaster over the carpet.

On his heels came Mithrandir, who had encountered the intrepid warrior on his return from the Wood Elves' camp and decided to join him for dinner. Equally alarmed about the new disruption in the household, his harried gaze swept the room and its occupants, coming to rest upon the Twins.

"What is going on in here and when did you return?" he demanded, raising his hand and pointing as his brows descended in a warning glare. "There is to be no attempt to halt the pending wedding nor will I allow you to spread any more lies about Legolas' alleged magical abilities."

"Valar, we have no intention of doing either," droned Elrohir with an insolent roll of his eyes.

"Aye, it is Arwen who poses the obstacle this time," rejoined Elladan. "She believes Legolas conceived in order to force Adar to wed him. We are trying to convince her otherwise."

"Is this true?" Glorfindel turned to her in amazed disappointment. "Undomiel, how can you impugn Our Wood Elf so? Legolas only hoped to reverse the error he'd made in battle, for he believes his brother's death was his fault."

"We must explain all this to her before she meets Legolas again," stated Erestor. "I don't want him to become even more terrified of her than he already is."

"He isn't terrified of me," insisted Arwen, unable to prevent the new rush of blood to her cheeks, for of course Erestor knew what she'd done to test Legolas' loyalty even if he didn't know the details.

"Oh, but he does avoid you most zealously," Glorfindel said, appraising her with disapproving curiosity.

"It was just a misunderstanding on my part," she hastily asserted, "much less atrocious than some other people's continuously derogatory conduct toward him." As she hoped, that silenced both her father's dearest friends, as neither one had been kind to Legolas during his first years in Imladris.

"I would like to learn this history also," said the wizard, for Legolas would not confide in him nor would any of his kin share with the venerable Istar what their young prince had revealed to them of his difficulties. "Now that we are here, Glorfindel, you may add your observations to Erestor's. Tell us about Legolas' arrival in Imladris."

"That is for us to relate," said Elladan. He and Elrohir moved to the hearth and took seats, the rest of the group following their lead, and once settled he began the sorry tale, to which his brother and Glorfindel contributed their recollections as well.

Now, as to these events, we have already gleaned most of the details and so need not revisit such unpleasant incidents. Suffice it to say that Arwen listened with attention and was deeply moved by the account given. And yet, the tale lacked any indication of Legolas' thoughts and feelings during this turbulent time in his history. To this her brothers had to admit complete ignorance, for they had never engaged in conversation with the Wood Elf so much as delivered cruel taunts, and even this level of interaction was limited, neither of them wanting to come near him because of the inevitable pull of the bond. That was not an aspect of their relationship to Legolas they wished to explicate to their sister.

Glorfindel, too, could relate little of Legolas' personal experience and hesitated to reveal the one episode he had witnessed.

"You must understand, Arwen, that he was in no condition to interact with the household. I didn't have a true conversation with him until he had been here over two years. In none of our brief encounters since then have we discussed anything of a personal nature. Can you not see how unlikely it would be for him to confide in people who looked on him with nothing but scorn and disgust?"

"I do see that," answered Arwen, "but I sense you are withholding something important. Why are you so reluctant to share this? Does it reflect disfavourably on Legolas?"

Glorfindel's features contracted in sour aggravation as he refuted that charge. "No, as with most of the memories I have of the early days, the truth only reveals how heartless people can be. I will tell you the story only because you are so certain Legolas was plotting and scheming behind Elrond's back. Nothing could be further from the reality."

With that he began his account:

Winter in the Vale bounded by the Bruinen and Hithaeglir was never severe. Snows did not settle for more than a handful of days. Temperatures did not plunge below the level comfortable to roses. The streams and lakes did not freeze over nor did bitter storms lash the land with frigid winds and icy sleet. Whatever season it might be in the rest of the world, Lord Elrond's mastery of Vilya maintained a temperate zone within Imladris. The weather varied from that of spring to that of autumn, with occasional glimpses of wintery precipitation just because such was pleasurable. Thus, once the trio of elves crossed the borders at the footbridge over the Rhossîr, the biting cold diminished.

The watch was vigilant even on this little travelled pathway into the vale and a scout hailed them with cordial deference, promising to alert the Last Homely House of its masters' return. In truth, the guards had been anxiously scanning every approach to the valley, for the Lord and his sons were much overdue and had they not arrived soon a search would have been organised. Before another hour had passed, the small party was met by Glorfindel, for the watcher had also sent word to his captain of the unexpected guest and his unfortunate condition, obviously the cause of their slow pace. Glorfindel listened attentively to the tale his Lords explained, noting that much was left out, or else altered significantly, and that a breach had opened between not only father and sons but inseparable brothers as well. That was enough to make the Balrog-slayer wary of the wounded elf and he said so.

"I wonder at these sylvan warriors' intentions, wandering so close to Imladris, a country they have not acknowledged in more centuries than I have been present, this life-time, upon Arda. Mayhap yon archer is a spy seeking access to treasures of a unique and powerful nature," cautioned Glorfindel. Elrond's response was out of character, in his opinion, being both insulting and impassioned.

"That is absurd! Has your reason left you? Is it now a crime for one of the First-born to seek the sheltered haven of Imladris? Here is a fellow elf, wounded unto death, poisoned with that most vile and incurable toxin used by the Orcs, and you accuse him of treachery? Glorfindel, I would think you had been sampling Gandalf's pipe weed did I not know you better," sneered the mighty Lord, incensed to have the ailing elf so defamed, and unconsciously tightened his hold around the limp, unconscious form.

"Nay, it is not absurd," growled Elrohir. "You see before you the evidence of the threat we bring right inside our very borders, Glorfindel. That Wood Elf is a sorcerer, an enchanter skilled in such black arts, and he has bewitched both Elladan and Adar completely."

"That is not true!" hissed Elrond, eyes blazing as he focused upon his younger son. "I will not have such falsehoods repeated. Legolas is not responsible for what has happened here; it is a natural mechanism of survival and nothing more."

"Aye, leave me out of your assessment also, unless you come to your senses and admit that I am only expressing the compassion anyone might feel for someone in so perilous a situation," huffed Elladan. "You are the one obsessed with Legolas."

"Obsessed? Aye, that's the very word only I am not the one so ensorcelled," retorted Elrohir.

A greater clamour would have broken out save that the elf under discussion moaned and shifted in Elrond's hold, brought near consciousness by the tension in his protector's body. He sought to bring himself upright and gasped at the sharp stab of agony lancing through his side. With a low groan he collapsed back in trembling misery. "Ring," he whispered, teeth chattering over the word, and buried his nose against the warmth of the strong chest against which he leaned.

"Sîdh," crooned Elrond, gently resettling his charge in a more comfortable, or at least less tormenting, position, bending close to press his cheek upon the bowed head and drop a kiss upon drooping eyelids. "We are home now and soon you will rest more easily. Here I have all the medications required to heal you fully." He had no idea if his words were understood for the sylvan elf released a shaky sigh and slipped away into oblivion again. Wasting no more time, Elrond seized this opportunity to make haste, urging his charger for speed and disappearing from the wooded hills, leaving his sons and his captain behind.

"So you see how it is for him," Elrohir spoke with such bitter acrimony that Glorfindel startled.

"I see that he is concerned for the elf," replied the Balrog-slayer, "and that is no more than I would expect, considering the bond that has been enjoined between them. Yet I find no reason to doubt Elrond's words; the effect will diminish as the sylvan heals and gains strength."

"So you say, but I tell you this is a false hope. Adar is thoroughly enchanted and will not be parted from That Wood Elf willingly," the younger twin continued with dark foreboding clouding his flashing eyes. Having no wish to hear Elladan's denouncement of his words, he too spurred his horse for home.

"What ails your brother?" asked Glorfindel, noting how fidgety Elladan suddenly became, as though he longed to race after Elrohir, except that his vision was turned in the direction of the House of Healing instead.

"He is jealous," shrugged Elladan, "for he was drawn to Legolas as well. We all were. Only because Elrohir and I fought, Adar claimed the prize."

The dark and cynical sarcasm pervading his tone chilled Glorfindel, for never had he heard the like from either of the Twin Lords. Without a second glance at him, Elladan set off for the Last Homely House, trailing the wake of Elrond. This along with all he'd heard convinced the Balrog-slayer that there was credence in the Twins' charge of sorcery. He determined to keep the stranger under close surveillance lest he prove a danger to the safety of either Elrond or his sons. Glorfindel decided to check on his progress, unexpectedly, and determine whether the injuries were also a sham of some kind.

Such was his intent, yet Glorfindel promptly forgot about the issue for many days, as a bedraggled caravan of humans arrived at the Bruinen and pleaded for asylum. Their tale of woe included the ravaging of their village by warg riders, and Glorfindel gathered forces to purge the countryside of this roving band of marauders. The Twins rode with him and while they fought together as ever, there remained between them a silence of profound proportions in as much as it was marked by their internal silence as well. The campaign stretched on as the warriors sought out the source of the enemy's provisioning, routing a handful of Southron soldiers lurking in the wasted dales around the remnants of Rhudaur. The Twins left him, restless to return to Imladris, and it was more than two months before Glorfindel arrived once more at the Last Homely House.

He was soon reminded of Imladris newest resident. The evening meal found him seated at Elrond's table, as was his habit, yet without the company of the Lord of the lands at its head, nor were his sons in attendance. Not only that, but such a cloud of gloomy malaise enveloped the few elves dining that Glorfindel wondered if some tragedy had befallen the Last Homely House in his brief absence. This very thing he asked of Erestor, for the seneschal occupied his accustomed chair to the right of the empty one usually filled by his cousin.

The Chief Advisor sent Glorfindel a condescending, pitying look for such ignorance. "Indeed, I can think of no greater scandal than that which has befallen the House of Eärendil. As the guardian appointed by the Valar to protect that noble line, you might well be concerned. Glorfindel, never before have I known you to be derelict in performance of your duty, yet now you have permitted this unseemly affair to become not only common knowledge but deeply entrenched."

"What? Erestor, do not speak in riddles. What scandal? What affair? My responsibilities are numerous and defence of Lord Elrond's lands not the least of them. If something has happened in my absence then pray tell me! Speaking of duty, is it not yours to relay such information to me at once? If this catastrophe was so serious, why did you send no messenger forth to alert me?" The Balrog-slayer rose from his chair in his upset, looming over the smirking seneschal in agitated affront.

"You knew of it before I, therefore how can I be charged with failing to properly update you," retorted Erestor. "Take your seat, mellonen; I am speaking of Legolas, Elrond's little sylvan catamite, of course."

"His what?" Glorfindel's voice rose in pitch to a screechy yowl.

"Aye, you heard me correctly. The Sylvan archer, still confined to his sickbed, has coaxed Elrond into sharing it. Your august Lord has deserted his quarters and taken over the warrior's care completely. He appears at appointed meetings and still shares the morning breakfast with me, yet the remainder of his time is spent trying to get the blighted Wood Elf to eat, so he states, and he does not return from the sick room until dawn." Erestor relayed his story, relishing the shock apparent on Glorfindel's face.

Glorfindel scowled, realising he'd permitted Erestor to bate him, again. "Just because Elrond attends the sick elf through the night does not mean he shares more than an appropriate level of comfort and tenderness. To assert that they are lovers is irresponsible. Such jokes may be taken as fact by some and that kind of gossip is best squelched by never letting it start." Glorfindel had not returned to his seat and now he stomped from the room, Erestor's mocking laughter following him out the door.

"Oh, do share whatever sight meets your eyes when you go barging in, mellon vrêg," the seneschal snickered. "I'll be in the Hall of Fire when you've satisfied your curiosity."

Glorfindel berated himself for forgetting about the injured Wood Elf now, realising Erestor was having great fun at his kinsman's expense, ridiculing the sylvan bond of extremis and Elrond's part in it. Yet he could not in good conscience have left the campaign unfinished, permitting evil-hearted Men to extend their influence over the surrounding colonies. He was glad to be home and eager to silence this ugly rumour, but a small note of warning urged him not to rule out the Twins' charges of sorcery. I will know soon enough, he reasoned, determined to surprise the Lord and his patient, so to ascertain the true nature of their relationship.

Long before he reached the isolated rooms, he heard Elrond's voice raised in song. That gave his heart ease and he smiled, for this was neither a love song nor a bawdy barrack's tune. The Lord of the Vale was singing of the beauty of Arda and the joy to be found in appreciation of Iluvatar's creations. No second voice joined in and this confirmed for Glorfindel that nothing untoward was taking place between Eärendil's noble scion and the lowly woodland archer. Thus, when he threw wide the door and entered, Glorfindel was flabbergasted to discover Elrond in bed with the patient, both of them naked, the scent of their erotic activity still heavy in the air.

"Elbereth!" the Balrog-slayer exclaimed, standing frozen upon the threshold, eyes enormous and glued upon the tableau. Legolas lay huddled against Elrond's chest, flushed and soaked in sweat, fingers knotted in the elder elf's ebony tresses, eyes shut and breath laboured. Elrond held him gently but securely across his lap, his face white with the shock of being caught in so compromising a position, mouth ajar and eyes frantic. "I did not know; I did not believe him," stuttered Glorfindel.

Elrond scowled, rage overcoming his embarrassment. "I can guess who sent you on this inexcusably impertinent mission," he spat, but at once altered his demeanour as Legolas gave a violent jerk and moaned, having been wakened by the caustic tone. Wide blue eyes blinked as he sought to focus on Elrond's face and the Elven Lord remoulded his features into a gentle smile.

"Nay, be at peace, all is well. I need to speak with someone but I will not be gone long. Rest and dream, Legolas, rest and dream." He carefully rolled the injured elf aside and propped him up against several pillows, but for all his care the motion elicited a spasm of pain and a hoarse cough from the patient. The agony this set off quickly sent Legolas back into fevered dreams again, and only then did Elrond turn to his unwelcome guest. Silently he retrieved a robe, clothed himself with it, and motioned Glorfindel aside to the open balcony. "Have you lost all reason?" he whispered in fury. "It is customary to knock before entering a private room."

"I was not expecting you to be cohabiting the room in this manner, else I surely would have done," explained Glorfindel.

"I am not 'cohabiting' with Legolas. This is the nature of such bonds."

"Indeed? I believed the union was not required more than once, for so you yourself expressed it. To continue can only mean you intend to keep him as a lover rather than heal him as a patient."

"That is preposterous!" Elrond raised his voice, cheeks crimson in fury and shame. "I will not be spoken to in this disrespectful manner. What I choose to do or not do is none of your concern."

"I beg to differ," Glorfindel drew himself up haughtily, unaccustomed to being taken to task in such a manner. "The warning of your sons seems true to me now, more so than your own words. This elf has you enthralled. Never have I known you to indulge such a sordid and selfish passion."

"I am not enthralled, quite the opposite. I am actively working to make him well and send him home to Mirkwood. I am a healer first and foremost, Glorfindel, and how could I turn away when he does not respond to others' care? Would you call that selfishness? Besides, the cure for this vile toxin runs in his blood. If he survives, I will be able to isolate the antidote and countless lives will be spared in future. Should I discount the value in that also?"

"Nay, yet the method of obtaining this much desired remedy seems improper. Erestor is treating it as a joke and I dread to know what the citizens are saying."

"What they are saying is irrelevant. Legolas is quite ill, as you surely could tell, and needs whatever strength I can lend. The poison is tenacious and the treatment I initially devised worked instead to make it more potent. Recovery is likely to be slow and painful for him. I for one will not begrudge him whatever comfort my presence can grant."

"Your presence is one thing, but this indecent gratification is another."

"Since when are you permitted to determine with whom I should or should not couple?" Elrond was furious and his voice rose in volume accordingly. "Are you Vala that you dare to stand before me and denounce this union as indecent? And if I should choose to keep a lover, what then? Must I interview candidates based on an approved list drawn up by you? I will have who I want when I want and for as long as I want. Legolas is secured to me by this sylvan bond and I will indulge the privileges of that bond as I see fit."

For some time they were silent, staring hard at one another: Elrond in defiance and Glorfindel in disapprobation. At last a stifled sob arose from the room behind them and together they turned to find the beleaguered warrior shakily dragging himself from the sheets, trembling with such violence Glorfindel could not understand how he was able to remain upright. Unending tears coursed down his face and a look of such empty despair filled his eyes that the Balrog-slayer gasped. Elrond ran to catch him just as his knees buckled and with tender hands lowered the suffering elf back to the bed.

"Glorfindel, if you would please fetch me some clean linens from the cupboard there I would be grateful," murmured Elrond, sending his most trusted captain a kinder look. Together they remade the bed and Elrond covered Legolas' nakedness with a light blanket, for he was drenched in perspiration wrought from his fever-ravaged body and chills ran over him in trembling waves. Through it all he'd retained consciousness, though what level of reason he possessed was debatable.

"Elrond?" he struggled to form the word, struggled to draw air, licked dry lips. Arms slid beneath him, aggravating the wound in his side and he groaned against the slicing flash of vicious heat that seared him there. Would it never end? Why must his journey to Mandos be so prolonged when Galbreth had gone so quickly? "Nen, saes," he pleaded weakly.

Glorfindel could not help but be moved by such terrible distress and fetched the water himself, suppressing his distaste as Elrond climbed into the bed and gathered the sylvan to him. Glorfindel handed over the cup and watched as his Lord offered the Wood Elf a few sips, which he could scarcely swallow. A bout of coughing followed, intermingled with his cries of pain, and after that he begged a favour of Elrond, so softly as almost to be lost in his ragged respiration, but Glorfindel heard:

"Saes, let me die. Saes."

Stricken dumb, too shocked to comprehend whatever answer Elrond was giving, Glorfindel quietly left the room and shut the door behind him.

"That is horrible," sniffed Arwen, wiping at her eyes for the story thus far was far from pleasant hearing and she had a dreadful feeling there was much more to reveal. "How could he hope to die? Knowing he did, how could you turn against him?" she demanded of Glorfindel.

The Balrog-slayer flinched under her just query. "It is difficult for me to admit it now, for I see him so differently, but at the time I was hoping he would die. Not only was his condition dire, I was uncomfortable with your father's lecherous craving. The idea of him taking pleasure from so depleted and helpless a person was unthinkable, and so I could not stand to think of it. I took to avoiding the house."

"Valar, this narrative reveals us to be monsters," said Faelon. "I heard the rumours; I myself saw many elves approach Legolas, once he was well, and heard some make claims to bedding him, but I know now he never even considered such propositions. I regret every time I passed him with a disdainful sneer or refused to acknowledge his presence at all. He didn't deserve to be treated this way."

"Nay, he did not," agreed Arwen with a heavy sigh.

Everyone remained quiet for a time, unable to find any words sufficient to express the real horror of such circumstances. Finally Erestor sat forward and made the following comment:

"It is true we were blind and deaf to Legolas' plight, but it is also true that we had some reason to be suspicious. The most damning evidence was Elrond's behaviour, for he would fight against the bond and gave in with regret and repugnance for his 'weakness'. I believed the sylvan bond was at best unhealthy for one not of sylvan descent, and resolved to break that enchantment at any cost."

"Even though by so doing you would doom Legolas to death?" demanded Faelon, eyes staring in disbelief at the elf he had aided and assisted for so many years.

"Of course not!" growled Erestor. "I did not become concerned until the months wore on and Legolas began to heal while the bond did not diminish. Had it dissolved on its own I would have discounted the entire episode; what is one indiscretion lasting a handful of days when set against all the good my cousin has worked to achieve in his long life? Nothing!

"For Elrond to take a lover was not so horrible, especially if the affair was as short-lived as he himself proposed. An amusing anecdote we could both laugh about in years to come, nothing more, and I was genuinely happy for him to have such an outlet. When the strange hold the sylvan had on him did not lose its strength, when Elrond moved him into his apartment, then I began to seriously suspect a hidden agenda. I became determined to force Elrond to see Legolas for what I believed he was."

"And what did you believe him to be?" inquired Mithrandir softly.

"He could only be false, a charlatan, a miscreant who would not be welcomed in his own lands and so put to his use all those dark arts of which his kind are thought to be adept, ensnaring not just any citizen of the realm, but the very Lord of the lands himself," the Chief Advisor answered plainly. "It has ever been my responsibility to offer Elrond whatever protection my efforts may afford him. I had only his best interests in mind. Well, primarily that." Erestor paused, casting a side-long look in the Twins' direction.

"I have even made amends to King Thranduil for my callous deeds. It is now my principal concern to guard both Legolas and the unborn child from whatever person might present even the slightest threat. That means, dear Arwen, that if you don't give up your plan to demand an accounting of Legolas, I will have to ask Glorfindel to escort you from Imladris."

Arwen's lips parted to announce her outrage over such a statement but before breath could give the thoughts life, the apartment door opened once more, revealing its rightful occupants.

There framed within the arch stood Elrond, Legolas at his side, gazing in surprise upon this unexpected party in his private study. Swiftly his eyes tracked over each of his guests, resting on the Twins with a slight frown, and he drew Legolas closer to him, one arm locked possessively about the slender waist. Whatever this meeting entailed, the grim and guilty looks on everyone's faces assured that it was not a happy occasion. He shared a swift glance with his mate, to which Legolas returned a slight shrug, the couple entered, and he shut the door.

"I hope there is good cause for this unexpected visit," Elrond said.

"Aye," Mithrandir announced, rising from his seat, face crinkled convincingly into a myriad of kindly smiles. "Singly or in twos, we have all been drawn here to offer you both hearty congratulations upon the joyous announcement that the betrothal has been approved by King Thranduil's Council," the wily wizard fibbed.

"Once here, we fell to discussing some of the history that preceded that event," added Erestor, his smile ingratiating, his tone obsequious.

"I confess I was curious about Legolas' early years here," added Arwen honestly, her gaze upon him soft and filled with genuine compassion and remorse. "The others were kind enough to share their memories, for I did not want to burden Legolas by making those queries directly. I hope you can welcome me as a true sister, in spite of any previous misunderstandings between us."

Legolas' cheeks grew red and his eyes darted from her to Elrond and back, which he tried to cover with a swift bow. "There is nothing I would wish more, for I have never had a sister," he said quietly. The smile she offered warmed his heart and he returned it magnified tenfold.

Elrond favoured them all, one by one, with a dry, cynical appraisal, resting somewhat longer and with a more chilling intensity upon his sons, not fooled in the least by these half-truths, omissions, and blatant lies. Yet if Legolas was willing to overlook it then he would not press the matter, for above all he wished to keep Aearen happy and content.

"We accept your kind commendations over the decree. Now, if you would excuse us, Legolas and I must prepare for the evening meal." With those words he directed his attention to Faelon, who jumped up and assumed his official role, escorting everyone out of the suite. That duty discharged, he was himself dismissed and the couple was left alone once more.

As for Arwen, she made her excuses to the others so that she might get on with the real purpose of her foray into Legolas' private world. Though the events recounted had explained much, she still lacked any knowledge of Legolas' true state of mind during his early days in Imladris. Having that level of understanding was crucial to her ability to decide whether he was justified in breaking one of the most important rules governing bonding between the First-born.

Erestor and Glorfindel had duties to attend and were quick to part, going each to his own domain. Elladan and Elrohir also had a different agenda and hurried away without bothering to announce their objective, though the fact that they dragged Faelon with them was enough to raise brows all around. Only the wizard doggedly remained glued to Arwen's side, matching her step for step no matter which path she took, summarily dismissing all her polite attempts to shake him off. At last she halted and faced him.

"Why are you following me, Mithrandir?"

"You know the answer, child. You mean to work a spell and intrude upon the past. I would warn you against it, for perhaps ignorance is preferred where some things are concerned."

"Nonsense! I need to understand him and this is the only way."

"Surely not. You have just made a fine effort to bridge the gap between you. Would you now endanger that détente by this trespass upon his inner-most hopes and fears?"

"He need not know of it if you remain silent."

"So you would make me your accomplice, is that how it is? Well, well, I cannot stop you, after all, and mayhap I may prevent you from doing harm, or coming to harm. I say again: sometimes knowledge such as you desire is not so pleasant once attained, yet once acquired, never can it be expunged from memory. Are you still determined to tread this path?"

"I am. I do not fear to keep Legolas' sorrows in my heart, though I am certain there are many. I need to remove the doubts from my mind, for his decision to bring a child into the world, unwanted and unclaimed, troubles me greatly."

"You misspeak, Arwen; Legolas loves and wants that child and has from the first moment the notion came upon him to conceive. Elrond, too, loves his new son and would not be happy to know the depth of your disapproval."

"Be that as it may, I will have answers. I think you might approve of my consideration in not confronting Legolas about it directly. You might acknowledge my concern for his well-being in preserving him from such a stressful conversation."

"Insolent elfling! Do not dispute with me as you would your brothers. I know well that what drives your 'discretion' is nothing to do with Legolas. You fear only the repercussions from Elrond should you upset his mate by your intrusive meddling."

Arwen frowned and refused to answer, for there was nothing she could deny without speaking an outright lie. Instead, she contented herself to accept Mithrandir's supervision of the spell she hoped to work.

"I have your word that this will never be revealed to my father or to Legolas?"

"You have it, as long as this is the end of it. Once the spell disperses, I will countenance no further efforts to detract from the couple's happiness. If you have any feeling at all for them, and I know that you have it in abundance, then you will do as your brothers and work to make the child's life as carefree as it may be. And Legolas' in the bargain, not to mention your father, who has earned a certain right to a few years of light-hearted gladness."

"Then we are in agreement. We must go where Legolas' presence is strongest, but it must be a place he frequented in his earliest days here."

"That would be the healing wards," said Mithrandir, "and we cannot render the past anew unobserved there. The only other likely place is Lindir's Glade." Arwen agreed with his suggestion and together they strode away over the lawns, soon disappearing amid the tangled trees beyond the estate.

Once within the green meadow, Arwen removed from her pocket the strands of golden hair and the oak leaf medal. These she set on the ground and around them she traced three concentric rings: the innermost of petals gleaned from the abundant wild flowers, the second of wood twigs snapped from the boughs of an apple tree, and the third of stones, small and round and polished, which she chose from a velvet pouch she drew from her pockets as well. She was about to begin the words that would invoke the spell when Mithrandir stopped her and she dutifully stepped back.

Then the wizard bent low and, having left his staff in the house, traced with his fingers a twelve-pointed star in the turf. No effort did he expend and no stain of green or smudge of soil dirtied his digits, for the blades of grass simply reordered themselves, bending aside, entwining one another, or lying flat to enhance the image he desired. Once completed, this emblem emitted a light perfume and the air within the figure assumed a clarity unmatched, as if a separate light than Anor lit the space it defined. Standing again, he lifted both hands and held them over the star so that his palms overlaid the open air above the tokens stolen from the Wood Elf. In quiet majesty he spoke:
"Blessed Varda, Blessed Manwë, and all the Valar of the Blessed Lands, I call upon you for the gift of sight and the gift of oblivion. Let the first be granted unto Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Celebrian, that she may understand the will of the Valar in bringing Legolas into her father's life. Give her peace in the knowledge she receives and lend her the strength to remain steadfast and not turn away from what she will witness. Open her inner heart and link it to mine, to protect her from undo hurt and prevent her from causing hurt to the heart into which she will trespass. Make me a barrier between them and give to the sylvan prince oblivion, that Legolas may not know what transpires and lose what little trust he has in his adopted family."

With that done he cast his eyes upon her, and seeing that his words had not provoked in her either fear or remorse, he grimaced and gestured for her to take his place.

Arwen slipped off her shoes and went forward bravely, eagerly, for she could not deny the thrill this sort of magic raised in her soul. Though she could work such spells without the wizard's help, it would be imprudent to say so and earn his displeasure, for it was equally true that he could stop her with a thought. Into the centre of the circles she stepped and focused her mind upon the golden strands before her feet. She bent and retrieved the medal, pinning it to her dress. Three deep breaths she inhaled and released, storing the clean fresh air for its energy, using it to calm her thudding pulse and steady her nerves. This was always the hardest part, letting go of her own awareness, obliterating it within the depths of the Music itself.

It was a wondrous thing to peal back the boundaries between the present and the past, between one mind and another, and experience all that had happened during a given time from the point of view of some other person, to see their mind's working and know their thoughts. It was like inhabiting them, in a strange way, though the events she witnessed were only shadows long ago dimmed by many dawns. Often she had worked such tricks with her grandmother's aid, using her as a gateway through which to glimpse the world of her ancestors from a first-hand perspective. All of them were already linked to her by blood and their minds were moulded much as hers had been. Could the same be said of Legolas?

Nay, the connection between them was tenuous at best and she wondered if she would receive thoughts in Nandorin, which she could not comprehend, or if feeling alone was sufficiently universal between kinds to translate for her? Was she strong enough to hold the link open long enough to understand him? Were the tokens she'd gathered sufficient? Would the Valar, now made aware of her intent by Mithrandir, prevent her from succeeding? All of these questions crowded her thoughts and it took some time to clear them, emptying her mind of every distraction until her entire soul was focused upon the centre of the twelve-pointed star. She drew and held a deep breath, blowing it back over the space, centring herself as she touched her naked toe to the strands of hair and her fingers to the medallion.

"Vairë, weaver of fate and recorder of every life's journey, I call upon you to open to me a window within time. Show me the account you have collected of Legolas' life. Permit me to view his past as it unfolded, from the time he arrived in Imladris until the moment he made his decision regarding my unborn baby brother.

"All life is made of the Music and for the Music there are no mysteries. I float amid the chords of the Music already plucked, already sung, and hearing it I will become part of it. Let me become the part of it that was Legolas when first he came to Imladris. I will have complete comprehension of all that passed through his thoughts, of all that passed through his heart."

Arwen waited, gathering the energy of life around her, knowing that could she exert herself sufficiently and remain aloof to herself long enough, she would see every moment of the sylvan's life. That was neither practical nor desirable and she had no wish for it; the recent past would do. Ready at last, she reached out with her mind and touched the lingering Music contained within Legolas' golden hair. Using the gossamer filaments, she built up a transparent veil in the shape of the archer. When the phantom was complete, she closed her eyes and stepped within it, easing it over her as she would a garment. Once she could feel the shape clinging about her, she opened her grey eyes and beheld the sights seen by the Wood Elf's blue ones. Feelings and thoughts soon joined them.
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Aearlinn

Aearlinn - Esgal Orthant

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ We Retreat a Bit - A Few Days before Chapter 28 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~