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The Last Wood Elf	By : Mel99Moe Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4551 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters or places. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 33 – A Reunion of Sorts

Legolas was bewildered, thinking that nothing could shock him anymore, as Calariel claimed that his mother was betrothed to her father. He was speechless, not even knowing what to ask next. Calariel continued for him, “I don’t think I was ever meant to find out about it, but I came upon some drawings one day, of a beautiful elleth with the most striking eyes. They weren’t drawings of my mother, and I had never seen this elleth anywhere in Lothlórien. I asked him about it, and that’s when my father told me about Almárëa, your mother.”
Calariel’s father, Túrdir, had known Almárëa ever since they were elflings. They had grown up together, schooled together, and had become inseparable friends. As they reached their majority, Túrdir felt the friendship could blossom into something more. Eventually, he asked her to marry him, and she had agreed. But it was during the betrothal period that Almárëa met the young, outgoing wood elf prince … Thranduil. He was brazen, rash, and at times careless, very different from any of the Lothlórien elves. Almárëa was captured by his handsomeness and his bold outlook of life and Middle-earth. He had filled her head with stories of the lands and their people that he’d met throughout his adventures. Almárëa had never left the protected borders of Lothlórien, and she was enraptured by his stories, wishing that she too could see these amazing places. Somewhere along the way, she fell in love with Thranduil, and he with her, and she broke her engagement to Túrdir.
“It was all done well within the laws of marriage, though something like this is rare. She gave back the ring that my father had given her, and the betrothal was dissolved. It is said that Almárëa saw Thranduil in secret for quite a long time after that, until Lord Celeborn, her brother, learned what was happening. Your mother was honest, though, and confessed to falling in love with the Prince of Greenwood the Great, and that she had been meeting him secretly from time to time.”
Celeborn instantly forbade Almárëa from seeing Thranduil, and she threatened to run away to Greenwood, but her threats could not be carried out. War broke out and Thranduil, along with his father King Oropher, joined in the battle at Dagorlad. To everyone’s great sadness, Oropher was slain, and so when the diminished army returned home, Thranduil established his reign over the Silvan Elves of Eryn Galen, thus ending his visits to Lothlórien for the secret meetings with Almárëa.
But he had not forgotten her. When life returned to normal, Thranduil, now King, wrote to Almárëa and asked to visit her. He’d decided he would not hide their relationship anymore, but he received no answer. Several more letters were sent and went unanswered, but Thranduil was known for persistence. He went to Lothlórien hoping for an audience with Almárëa, and on his journey there, made up his mind to ask her for her hand in marriage. He would do it properly, and ask her family also.
Thranduil arrived in regal splendor, hoping to impress Lord Celeborn, her only family in Middle-earth. He would impress Celeborn, tell him that his love for Almárëa was true, and ask to marry her. However, he would never get the chance. Lord Celeborn told Thranduil that he knew about the secret meetings, and that the elven king was responsible for the dissolving of a legitimate betrothal between his sister and one of Lothlórien’s finest captains, Túrdir. Thranduil was denied his request for marriage, permission to see Almárëa, and he was sent away at once.
“There was nothing he could do, so your father left as he was ordered to do,” Calariel continued. “But as he was about to exit the last protective border, Almárëa appeared, shocking Thranduil and his company. She told him that none of what happened was her idea, that she still loved him, and asked him to take her with him. And so they rode out of Lothlórien together, returned to Eryn Galen, and married before anyone could come in time to stop her.”
Legolas was flabbergasted, “Wow.”
Calariel gave him a questioning gaze, “You mean, you never knew the story of your parents?”
“My mother died not long after I was born. I don’t really remember her, except for her voice as she sang to me. And my father only ever told me how much I looked like her and how much she loved me. Gandalf only gave me a brief description, not the whole story,” he answered. “It sounds like such a romantic tale.”
Calariel took a sip of her wine, and when she set the glass down, her demeanor seemed to change to something more solemn, “I guess you could say that.”
Legolas had been so enthralled with the story, he hadn’t taken the time to realize that it was Calariel’s father who had been hurt. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to—”
“It’s alright. It’s something that happened long before I was born, and my father found love again with my mother,” she interrupted.
“But obviously, the pain never truly faded, for he still had my mother’s sketches hidden away. It was my father that caused that pain,” he said humbly.
“If she had deeply loved my father, she would not have left him, and they were young then. Perhaps neither one knew what they really wanted,” Calariel said convincingly.
Legolas flashed her his best smile, “And you would not be here now.”
Calariel blushed, “Well, neither would you, now would you?”
Legolas picked up his wine glass and raised it in the air, “Here’s to dissolved betrothals.”
Calariel mimicked him, and brought her glass up, “And to elopement.”
They touched glasses and their eyes locked a moment as they made a connection. Then the moment was over, as they brought their glasses to their lips, and drank to complete the toast. Legolas allowed the wine to dance on his tongue before swallowing. Then he looked up through his long lashes to find Calariel watching him, “So, you never told me how you knew who I was when we met in Fangorn.”
Calariel shrugged her shoulders as she swallowed her last sip, “From the sketches of your mother, of course. Your father was correct to say that you look just like her. The comparison is uncanny. It’s in the eyes and the lips, unmistakable. And your name is such a close version of its pure form.”
“Yet, you said nothing.”
She shook her head slowly from side to side, “I hadn’t even known you survived the burning, no one did. We all thought Thranduil’s son died along with the other wood elves. And then when you denied being a prince, well… it was just a guess anyways, with only a drawing of an elleth to go by. I thought it best not to mention it if I wasn’t completely sure.”
Legolas blew out a short breath that sounded like a laugh, “It’s not as though you could say anything. You know, with your voice and all. And how do you write all of that in a little patch of sand.”
“Hah,” she laughed nervously, and her cheeks flushed pink once more.

“You were mute, weren’t you, from the poison?”
“About that—” she started, but they were interrupted when Haldir approached their table.
“Hello, Calariel,” the marchwarden addressed her, his eyes a sparkling grey.
“Haldir, we were looking for you,” Calariel said.
Haldir examined the empty plates and half empty wine glasses, “Yes, I see how hard you have been searching.” Then he looked at Legolas, and the friendliness that seemed to develop between them earlier had tarnished for some reason.
Legolas had a sense for these things. Haldir, it seemed, had feelings for Calariel, whether she knew about them or not. And it was a safe bet that she hadn’t known. He instantly thought of his father wooing his mother away from Túrdir, and made himself least threatening as possible. Legolas stood and gave Haldir a slight bow, abandoning Calariel and any attention he had been giving her before Haldir arrived. “I came here looking for you actually. I would like to meet with Lady Galadriel again. I find that my time here has become too long, and I cannot wait much longer.”
“You’re in luck then. I was just coming to get you. Lady Galadriel has made her decision,” Haldir informed him.
Legolas bowed to Calariel, and followed Haldir from the dining hall. Before he rounded the corner, Legolas looked back over his shoulder, finding Calariel watching him leave. He would have liked to stay a bit longer. She was a joy to talk to, and she knew so much about his parents. No one he’d met had ever given him so much information.
Eventually, Haldir brought him to the same talan home as when he first arrived. To his surprise, it was Celeborn, not Galadriel who met him. Legolas stood still, waiting for some direction. Haldir bowed, and with a flick of his hand, Celeborn signaled for Haldir to leave. This would be a private conversation, one that Legolas had expected. After all, this was his uncle.
“Come,” Celeborn ordered, his voice soft, but a tinge of authority made it clear that no one disobeyed the Lord of Lothlórien. He led Legolas to another part of their home, a room closed off to the rest of the large multi-chambered talan. It was a bit unnerving, not knowing what Celeborn had in mind, and being led to a private room. Legolas had a brief flash of being imprisoned in the cells beneath Edoras, but it quickly passed when he saw the inside of the room. It was furnished with a beautiful hand woven rug depicting deer jumping over a stream. There was a desk carved from white oak, and a chair that matched it. Two more chairs faced the front of the desk. This was where Celeborn motioned for Legolas to sit. Surprisingly, Celeborn took the other chair, rather than sit behind his desk. The elf lord had left the door open, and a servant appeared, hands folded, as he awaited word from Celeborn.
“Bring us wine,” he ordered, and the servant went away quickly. Then Celeborn’s attention settled on Legolas. He looked the wood elf over carefully, not saying a word.
Legolas felt very uncomfortable, and he was already feeling pressured to be on his way, always worrying and wondering about Rohan. Unable to wait another moment, Legolas spoke first, “Haldir said that Lady Galadriel has made her decision about my request for aid.”
“She has and you will know her decision shortly. But first, I thought it might be proper to have a moment to get to know my … nephew.” The word seemed to stick in Celeborn’s throat, but it didn’t deter him from continuing. “I can’t seem to get over how very much you resemble your mother, Laiqalassë.”
“So I’ve been told,” Legolas answered carefully. “And I prefer to be called Legolas,” he corrected.
“Of course, Legolas,” Celeborn said, accepting the correction, “So, Calariel must have told you about the likeness. That’s how she recognized you. We are very grateful for all that you did for her back in Fangorn Forest. She might not have survived had you not come upon her when you did.”
“Actually, an Ent called Beechbone found her first. Then he led me to her,” Legolas informed.
“You have met the Ents also?” Celeborn asked surprised.
“Just the one.” Legolas kept his answers short. Although this elf was his family, he did not know him. Legolas couldn’t help but wonder why his father and Elhadron had gone to such lengths to keep him away from Lothlórien. Now, all he wanted was to be on his way, with or without troops. “I am sorry if this seems a bit rash, but if I could just know what Lady Galadriel has decided—”
“We were sorry to hear about King Thranduil. Many laments were sung in his honor,” Celeborn interrupted.
Legolas was silent a moment, as he tried to contain his agitation, but anger won out, “I thank you, but maybe your singers could have been spared their voices had aid been sent to Mirkwood in their most desperate hour.” The niceties had come to an end.
“Your father came to us too late,” Celeborn countered.
“But he came, did he not? And Lothlórien ignored his pleas for help.”
“Thranduil never pleaded. He only demanded, and I will not barter with anyone who behaves with such arrogance.” The volume of Celeborn’s voice rose a bit.
“And so a whole race should be punished because you did not like how my father asked for your help?” Legolas came forward in his chair, ready to jump up and leave at a moment’s notice.
“Your father,” said Celeborn, putting emphasis on the word, “took more than his share when he lured your mother away from her home. He could not protect the one thing that he said mattered more to him than his own life. So why should Lórien have risked the lives of its people for someone who was so careless with the life of the one that he claimed to love?” Celeborn stood and turned away from Legolas, walking over to a bookshelf. He gently touched a circlet that laid there, made from vines that had long since dried and browned. The design was quite intricate, crisscrossing over each other so that there was no beginning and no end. Legolas thought it had a look of familiarity to it, though he couldn’t quite place it. While he tried to remember where he’d seen the design before, Celeborn continued the conversation, his voice low and almost trembling. “Did he even tell you how she died?”
“She was attacked by orcs,” Legolas answered. That was all the explanation he’d been given. That was all he needed to know.
“She was dragged off, tortured, maybe even raped. For three days, she had been in their filthy hands. By the time Thranduil found her, she was dead.” Celeborn turned towards Legolas, the circlet held carefully in his hands. “Three days … three agonizing days, and where was Thranduil? How could he have let that happen? Why did he not find her quicker, and save her from such a hideous death?”
Legolas was upset with Celeborn for blaming his father for his mother’s death. Thranduil would have done everything within his power to find her, and he did; Legolas was sure of it, especially after seeing him die at the hands of the invading enemy. “You were not there to see how determined my father was to fight the enemy. You make it sound as though he sat around lazily, never lifted a hand. But he fought every battle with his men … stood on the front lines and charged the enemy. And when the orcs finally burst through the throne room door, my father was the last to die, sacrificing himself so that I might have a chance of escape. I watched him die. I watched as his sword was ripped away and he fought the orcs with his bare hands, saw his body fall to the floor, saw him give up the struggle only because his soul had departed his body. That’s how much he loved his people, his wife, and his only son. He did all he could do, swallowed his pride by coming to Lothlórien, and faced the enemy alone when he was denied any help. That’s who my father was.”
Just then, the servant came back with a carafe of wine and two glasses. Celeborn used the interruption to gather himself, but Legolas let his own seething help him get through this difficult meeting. He was unsure what Celeborn might do if he walked out without a proper dismissal, and he could not afford to be contained. Surely, Saruman’s troops were well on their way to Helm’s Deep by now.
The servant disappeared, closing the door behind him. Obviously, the conversation had traveled further than intended. Legolas remained seated, though every muscle was tense and ready to bolt. Celeborn looked at the tray that held the wine and glasses, as though deciding whether to waste any on his young nephew or not. Legolas decided to make the choice for him.
“I cannot sit around here, arguing about the decisions that my father and you made. What’s done is done. Now, there is a race of men who will fight valiantly even though they know they are greatly outnumbered by the enemy. King Théoden did not ask me to come here. I’ve come by my own free will, in hope of finding some compassion from your people. I see I have wasted my time.” Legolas got up from his chair, and without waiting for a response from Celeborn, turned and went to the door. Just as his hand grabbed the handle, Celeborn spoke.
“Your request for aid from Lothlórien has been denied,” the elf lord said. “This war belongs to the race of men, not elves.”
“This war belongs to at least one elf,” Legolas shot back. Then he glanced at Celeborn, eyes narrowed and catlike. “It was so nice getting to know you … uncle.” Without waiting for further instruction, Legolas burst through the door, slamming it behind him, and left the home of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien.
He walked onto the veranda where he had first met them, and found Haldir standing at the top of the staircase that led to the lower levels, “That seemed to go well,” Haldir jested. Unfortunately, he hadn’t know how deeply hurtful the meeting had been with Celeborn.
Legolas didn’t have time to quarrel with anyone else, “I wish to be on my way. Can you lead me back to my horse, or shall I make my own way there? At least I know how to get to the ground.”
Haldir’s light mood quickly vanished, “This way.” He led Legolas along a series of walkways, bridges and stairs. They stopped briefly at the guest quarters where he retrieved his bow and knives, and when they left, they ran into Calariel.
“How did it go?” she asked anxiously.
“I wouldn’t ask if I were you,” Haldir said first.
Legolas shot him an icy glare. Haldir knew nothing of what transpired, and he wished the marchwarden would keep his mouth shut. “It seems my uncle still holds a grudge for something that happened long ago. Lothlórien will not send aid.”
“What?” Calariel asked surprised. “But I was sure they would. You are family after all.”
“That sort of thing seems not to matter much to your lord,” Legolas said angrily. He walked off, not waiting for Haldir to lead the way. He could probably find his own way from here. But Haldir hurried up ahead and took control.
Calariel ran to keep up with them, “What will you do then?”

“I will go to Helm’s Deep and fight with those that I consider more family than my own blood,” he said, referring to Celeborn.
“Well, then … I … I’m coming with you!” she demanded, and Legolas stopped walking to round on her. He looked her directly in her hazel eyes, wondering what this was about, but Calariel seemed sincere and determined.
“I will not risk it. And besides, Celeborn does not give his permission,” he said. Legolas spun around, but Calariel took hold of his arm before he made another step.
“I do not need anyone’s permission. I decide for myself, and I choose to go with you.”
“Why?” Legolas asked, “You don’t even know me. And from what you have said, my family has shamed yours. Why would you risk your life?”
“Because—” she paused, trying to think of why, “Because I believe in your cause. Because I believed in your father’s cause, and because I never could find it within my heart to agree with the Lady’s decision.” Calariel reached up and touched her hand to the side of Legolas’ face. “I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if Celeborn and Galadriel had sent troops to Mirkwood. You might still have your father and your people. Instead, you have been raised in secret by humans, never even knowing the truth of who your father was.”
If she thought she was helping, she was greatly mistaken. Legolas furrowed his brow and removed her hand, “Do not take pity on me, Calariel. I have learned much from these humans, as you put it. I’ve learned that they react with their hearts first, out of love for their family and their country. They fight for their freedom, not turning away like the Noldor here in your precious woods. My father was right to hide me from this place. You cannot see ahead, for the past that haunts you, but how do you expect to find the splendor you seek if you do not make the most of the place that you now live?”
“Not all of us look backwards. I don’t. I never have, which is why I want to come with you. I want to see evil vanished from Middle-earth just as much as you. I don’t long to return to a distant land that I don’t even know. This is the only home I’ve ever known, and if I can help make it better for all, then that is what I want to do before I feel the pull of the Undying Lands.”
By now, Haldir had walked back to where they stood and addressed Calariel, “You cannot leave. Your father would be furious.”
“I have to do this, Haldir. You know better than anyone that my father would rather have married me off to be a good little elleth, safe and sound from harm. And none of this,” she said, gesturing to the soldier’s uniform that she wore, “would have happened if you hadn’t helped convince him. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, but I need to do something on my own for once.”
Legolas watched Haldir’s eyes soften as he looked at Calariel, his mind going over all the different scenarios if he should let her go. Then, Calariel batted her long lashes at the marchwarden, and Haldir turned to water, “Please, just give us a head start, and then you can go to my father and tell him anything you like.”
Haldir tried his best to look authoritative, but it was no use. Calariel had melted the ice that must have surrounded his heart. “Only for you would I do something like this.” He kissed her forehead, and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Somehow he managed a smile without cracking his face, Legolas thought, and he suddenly felt as if he was interrupting a private moment. But it did not last, and the marchwarden returned just as quickly as he disappeared as he turned back to Legolas. “If any harm comes to her, I will hold you responsible.”
“That seems to be the general rule around here,” Legolas answered dryly, letting Haldir’s threat roll off him.
Haldir ignored the smart comment, and looked to Calariel once more. It seemed like a new thought occurred to the marchwarden as his eyes searched hers, “Will you lead Legolas to the stables?”
“Of course,” she answered, but she seemed confused by his question.
Haldir addressed Legolas again, “Will you give me just an hour before you set out?”
“I think I can do that, but why?” Legolas asked.
“Just take your time preparing to leave. In an hour ride out of the main gates and go south. I’ll find you,” Haldir said, but he looked at Calariel with his answer. Without hesitation, he walked away.
Legolas watched him a moment, then to Calariel he asked, “Do you suppose he’s gone to warn your father?”
Calariel shook her head, “No, he would not do that. But to be honest, I have no idea what he is up to. Perhaps he means to go with us?”
“I’d rather he didn’t. I’m sure he has the best intensions, but as a captain in your army, he could be severely punished, and I would not like to see him loose his ranking.”
“Haldir has always been devoted to Lórien and the Lady Galadriel. He would not put himself in jeopardy, at least I don’t think he would,” she said, wondering herself, what Haldir was up to.
They did as Haldir said and took their time getting ready to leave. Calariel made sure to take her protective armor as well as extra knives, her bow and a sword that she wore at her side. She looked at Legolas in his tunic, leggings and Rohirric cape with nothing more than a simply made bow, two long knives, and no armor at all. “Is this what you wear to battle? It’s lacking in protection, don’t you think?” she chaffed.
“I don’t plan on getting injured,” he countered jokingly.
“No one ever does.” Calariel gave him a smile, and Legolas felt his heart warm. There was something interesting about her, a kind of maturity that he had never seen or felt with any of the women in his life. Well, he thought, she is an elf and much older, certainly older than him, and he wondered about her age. There would be plenty of time for small talk along the way to Helm’s Deep, so save it for the journey, he told himself.
At last, they exited the main gates, and to Legolas’ surprise, no one questioned why Calariel was leaving with him. Not wanting to draw any extra attention, Legolas remained nonchalant, and they rode slowly and further away from the gate.
Just as he’d said, Haldir showed, but he was not alone. There was a group of about fifty elves on horseback, packed and dressed for war in full Galadhrim attire. Legolas could feel himself begin to panic. It seemed that Haldir would not let her go after all, and he had come with reinforcements. He rode ahead to confront Haldir. “I do not want any trouble with you or your men. Calariel can remain here if—”
“We are not here to cause any trouble with you, Prince Legolas,” Haldir said graciously.
Legolas was confused by how he was addressed. No one had spoken his official title, and he felt he hadn’t done anything to earn it yet either.
“What is this, Haldir?” Calariel asked.
“Legolas and I spoke earlier,” Haldir said, nodding to Legolas, “And I think he will understand this gesture. These men have agreed to go with you to Helm’s Deep, despite Lord Celeborn’s orders not to send aid.”
An elf that Legolas had met back at the river when he first arrived, stepped forward. This was not Orophin, who escorted him to the city, but the one who remained at the riverbank, Haldir’s youngest brother. He bowed his head and placed his hand over his heart, “There are some of us who, like Calariel, never agreed with the decisions from long ago. Our hearts have weighed heavy ever since learning of Mirkwood’s destruction. We were ready to fight alongside your father then, and we are ready to fight at your side now.”
“My brother, Rúmil,” Haldir introduced. “Legolas, we agree with you about vanquishing evil, for we cannot see how we will find peace in Valinor if we do not help the race of men. We must have purpose upon these shores or we would not be here now. So, I am sending Rúmil, along with the others, to Helm’s Deep with you and Calariel.”
Calariel moved her horse forward to join Haldir, “Are you not coming also?”
His face softened and his grey eyes danced with admiration once again, as he spoke to her, “My dear, I would surely be reprimanded for disobeying Lord Celeborn, and I have been a leader and a soldier for so long that I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“But what about your brother?” Legolas asked, concerned for the outcome of these volunteers, should they live to return to Lothlórien.
Rúmil answered for himself, “I am a strong soldier, and a fierce warrior, but it has never truly been my passion. I will risk whatever Lord Celeborn decides to do with me if I return.”
Haldir reached up to where Rúmil sat upon his horse, grasping his arm and squeezing hard, “Not if, dear brother, but when. Now go, the lot of you, before the guards become suspicious. I will give them a story of some kind to divert their attention for a while, but it won’t take long once they know you have not returned.” As if he knew she was about to say something, Haldir looked at Calariel, “Don’t worry for me. All will be well. Keep safe and may the Valar watch over you.”
“Thank you Haldir,” Calariel said sincerely, and she bent down to give Haldir a kiss on his cheek.
“Let’s be off,” Legolas said, and Rúmil led the way south through the forest, slipping away without question and off towards war.
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The Last Wood Elf