AN:  In "Of Re-Birth and Other Dooms of Those that Go to Mandos," Tolkien says, the fëa [soul/spirit] of a child "draws nourishment from the parents before the birth of the child: directly from the fëa of the mother while she bears and nourishes the hrondo [bodily form], and mediately but equally from the father, whose fëa is bound in union with the mother's and supports it... It was for this reason that all parents desired to dwell together during the year of bearing, and regarded separation at that time as a grief and injury, depriving the child of some part of its fathering. 'For,' said they, 'though the union of the fëar of the wedded is not broken by distance of place, yet in creatures that live as spirits embodied, fëa communes with fëa in full only when the bodies dwell together'" (Morgoth's Ring, 221).  So I'm exploring that a little with Ithilden and Alfirin.

3. Strategic Moves

(August)

"It is almost always bad tactics to split your forces," Eilian was saying. "If you do that, you make it harder to maintain communication and discipline, and if your timing is off, the enemy can engage part of your forces with all of his.  That can mean heavy losses for you."  He looked around at the nineteen novices, ranging in age from Legolas, who had recently turned forty-two to Tynd and Calorfil, who would come of age in the next spring and become fully-fledged Mirkwood warriors.  May the Valar keep any of them from making that mistake, he thought grimly.  He eyes briefly met those of Lómilad at the back of the room.  The look on the novice master's face suggested that he, too, remembered the battle in which a Mirkwood captain had mistimed the encounter of his divided force with a troop of Orcs.  The results would have been harrowing had another group of warriors not arrived by pure chance.

"So," Eilian went on, "if you cannot split your forces, then what can you do that will work to your advantage in the terrain I've described?"

A serious looking young Elf with very dark hair raised his hand.  Eilian nodded at him, "Nálas?"  Nálas would not come of age for three years yet, but he was already showing signs of being a strategic thinker.

"I think it would be possible to ambush them when they cross the bridge," Nálas offered.

Eilian nodded. "Good," he said. "Anything that restricts your enemy's mobility can help you, even if you are outnumbered, as I am telling you that you are here."  He looked around the room.  "Vorion," he said sharply, calling to attention one of the younger novices whose gaze was directed out the window, "what would you do in the situation I have described?"

There was a moment's pause while Vorion tried to guess what it was that Eilian was talking about.  None of the other novices looked at him. "I am sorry," he finally said, his face flaming, "I was not listening."

"Then start listening," Eilian snapped.  "Every warrior needs to understand tactics.  A captain may be killed or separated from his forces.  You cannot predict what you will need to know to survive and protect your warrior companions."

"I am sorry," said Vorion again, miserably.

Eilian felt a stab of sympathy, which he ruthlessly repressed.  Vorion tended to be dreamy at the best of times and was no one's idea of a prospective captain, but what Eilian had said was true.  All warriors did need to learn tactics.

Legolas watched his brother with interest.  He was dismayed at how easily Eilian slipped into being a stern master, but he also felt the surge of respect that he always felt when one of his older brothers displayed the competence marking them as leaders of the Mirkwood warriors.  He did not see often see these strengths at home, where they were simply his sometimes annoying older brothers.

He would be sorry to see Eilian leave and go back to his patrol, he thought, but leave soon, he inevitably would.  Legolas had seen him working at the archery range with an increasingly heavy draw weight on his bow.  His arm was rapidly returning to its former power; his days on restricted duty with the novices were nearing an end.

"What else could you do besides ambush the Orcs on the bridge?" Eilian asked again.

Legolas studied the drawing that Eilian had laid out before them and raised his hand.  Eilian nodded at him.  "You might be able to draw the Orcs into the ravine with a fake retreat," he suggested tentatively.  "Then you could attack them from the ridges."  A week ago, Eilian had talked about the usefulness of presenting false weak spots to the enemy, and it seemed to Legolas that the sight of retreating Elves might lure Orcs into charging into the trap he was describing.

"You would have to be lucky," Galelas said with a snort.  "Your warriors would be vulnerable while they were fleeing."  Legolas made a face but hesitated to respond to the other novice.  Galelas was seldom able to resist trying to show his superiority over his fellow novices, especially Legolas. The two of them had gradually learned to restrain from actual hostilities, but Galelas could not keep from fomenting constant rivalry.

To Legolas's relief, Calorfil now spoke up.  He and Tynd were the two oldest novices, and Legolas admired them both.

"There is a difference between a false retreat and fleeing," Calorfil said.  "The retreat would be organized and orderly.  Presumably you would offer some resistance as you went to make sure that things did not get out of hand.  I think that Legolas's idea is a good one."

Legolas quickly smothered a pleased smile.

"It seems workable to me," Eilian said rather coolly.  He worked hard at not showing favoritism to Legolas, but it was a tricky line to tread because he needed to be able to tell the other novices when an answer that Legolas had given was a good one. And he was aware of the tension between his brother and Galelas and tried not to increase it.  "Galelas is right that forces ordinarily are vulnerable during a retreat," he added, "but, as Calorfil says, this would not be a real retreat."

Galelas looked mollified but only just, and Eilian felt a surge of irritation at his persistent trouble making.  He was a promising warrior, and if he stopped worrying about what everyone else was doing and concentrated on his own skills, he would be even better.  Eilian's relation to Legolas meant that he was in a bad position to talk to Galelas about this. He would suggest that Lómilad do it.

Tynd was now asking a question.  "How useful have you found battle plans to be really? I have always thought that a battle plan lasted only until the first blow was struck, and after that, what happened was unpredictable."  Calorfil, who was sitting next to him, was nodding as Tynd spoke.

Eilian grinned, amused by the youths' healthy skepticism.  "There is truth to that," he said, "but you had better have a plan ahead of time if you hope to have any kind of coordinated action.  Once the battle starts, it is too late."

Lómilad was now rising to his feet.  "Our time is up for today," he said.  "You are dismissed until tomorrow morning."  With a whisper of light Elven feet and an outbreak of young male voices, the novices got to their feet and headed out the door.

Eilian gathered up the charts he had brought and moved slowly toward the back of the room, where Lómilad had cornered the daydreaming Vorion and was speaking to him quietly.  With a final firm admonition, he sent the chastened novice on his way and turned to Eilian.  "You do a good job with them, Eilian," he said. "They were interested."

Eilian laughed.  "Even Vorion?" he asked.

Lómilad snorted.  "He is perfectly capable of doing much better than he does, if he could get his head out of the clouds."

"And Galelas?" asked Eilian.  "It seems to me that he would do better than he does if he were not so driven to prove that he is better than everyone else."

"Meaning better than Legolas," said Lómilad promptly.  "I will speak to him about it again, but I suspect they will eventually need to be assigned somewhere apart."  The two of them strolled out into the late afternoon sunshine.  "So how much longer do you expect to be with us?" he asked.

Eilian smiled happily.  "I hope to be gone by next week," he answered.  "Belówen is supposed to take another look at my arm tomorrow.  If he says I am fit for active duty, then it is just a matter of Ithilden signing the papers."

"We will be sorry to lose you," Lómilad told him.  "And I imagine your family will miss you."

Eilian shrugged.  "They are used to my being away," he said. "And I really cannot tell you how eager I am to get back to my own warriors.  It has been much too long since I have hunted the enemy."  A feral gleam flashed for a moment across his normally amiable face.

An echoing smile crossed the novice master's face.  They had trained this one well.

***

Legolas and Annael walked slowly along the path leading from the training fields.  “Did you see how precisely and evenly Tynd winds the thread when he fletches?” Legolas asked.  “And he uses those lovely long swan feathers!”  The novices had spent part of the morning in the armory fletching arrows. 

Annael frowned.  “Surely they reduce the length of his shot,” he said practically.

Legolas shrugged. “Perhaps, but he says they make the arrow's flight more stable.  And it looks very elegant,” he added, with an Elven appreciation of aesthetics.

Annael shifted the subject.  "Do you think that you will you be able to get away at all tonight?"  For the last several nights, the Wood-elves had been treated to an unusually thick display of shooting stars, beginning each night about an hour after darkness.  In thrilled response, they had been assembling to feast on the green in front of Thranduil's palace and then watch the star shower together.  Thranduil had presided over the celebrations with his family in attendance.

As recently as a year ago, Legolas would have been excused from playing a part in the pageantry and allowed to spend the evenings with his friends.  Increasingly, however, Thranduil expected him to assume the responsibilities that fell to him as the king's son. As a consequence, Legolas had spent most of his time on these evenings dressed in formal robes and sitting quietly with his family while Elves approached to pay their respects to Thranduil.

"Adar says I must dine with the family but that I may watch the star shower with my friends if I come right back afterwards," Legolas answered.  "Everyone is engrossed in the sky then anyway, so I do not need to be at his side."  Legolas understood that being who he was meant that he had responsibilities as well as privileges, and he had been raised to accept those responsibilities without complaint, but he had found these evenings long despite his genuine enjoyment of the display in the sky.

"Good," said Annael. Then he grinned.  "And which 'friend' do you intend to watch with?" he asked in a teasing voice.

Legolas grinned back.  "Do you mind?" he asked apologetically.

Annael laughed.  "No," he said.  "Give her a kiss for me."

***

Legolas glanced at Eilian, seated to his right next to their father.  Like Legolas, Eilian wore a brown silk robe banded in gold over a green silk tunic and deep brown leggings.  And, like Legolas, his forehead was bound by a narrow gold circlet.  Legolas knew that Eilian was probably at least as bored as he was, but it would have been impossible to tell that from his expression.  Legolas had once asked him how he managed to look so serene during court occasions.  "Years of practice at daydreaming," he had promptly answered, and then added thoughtfully, "and sometimes one can actually sleep, if Adar is busy enough."  Legolas strongly suspected that Eilian was asleep now.

Legolas would never have had the guts to sleep while sitting next to Thranduil, but he admired Eilian's nerve.  Now he carefully nudged his older brother, who came to with only a very small start. "Ask Adar if I may leave," he said.  "It is nearly time, surely."

Eilian blinked a few times and then turned to Thranduil.  "Will you allow the brat to be on his way, Adar?" he asked.  "He seems to think that he has suffered enough."

Thranduil gestured permission to Legolas, who promptly slipped away from the table.  Then the king turned to eye Eilian.  "Is sleeping on duty permitted in the southern patrol?" he asked coolly.

Eilian gave a minute grimace. "No," he responded.

"Nor is it here," said Thranduil.  "It is time you grew up, Eilian. Moreover, you might remember that Legolas watches you."   Eilian pressed his lips together but wisely said nothing, and Thranduil turned back to his people.

Legolas made his way through the crowd of Elves, realizing not for the first time that they both noticed him more and drew back from him more when he was in formal garb.  He would not be addressed as "my lord" until he was of age, and the Elves around him still greeted him simply as Legolas.  But even so he could feel people's attitude toward him beginning to change as he drew nearer toward adulthood, and that made him slightly uncomfortable.

Toward one edge of the green, he found Miriwen and Annael, sitting together and talking.  As he approached them, he saw to his displeasure that Falad was also with them.  All three of them greeted him, and he paused beside them, removing his circlet as he did so.  He rubbed his forehead lightly, to ease the slight headache it had caused.

"Does your head hurt?" Falad asked with a serious expression.  "There are herbs that we could recommend."

"No, thank you," said Legolas a little stiffly.  He did not want Falad playing the healer with him.  "It will go away quickly on its own."

"You look very nice," said Miriwen. "I like the circlet."

He turned to her.  "Come with me a little way into the woods, Miriwen," he invited.  "I know the perfect place to watch the stars."  Falad's eyes narrowed, but Legolas ignored him, and Miriwen accepted the hand that Legolas offered to help her to her feet.  The two of them strolled away, holding hands. Falad frowned after them and then turned to find Annael smiling at him blandly.

"They should not go off on their own," Falad said stiffly.

"I think that they are capable of deciding that for themselves," said Annael pleasantly.  Then someone in the crowd gave a cry as the first star shot across the sky, and both of them turned to watch, letting the matter drop.

Legolas led Miriwen to a small clearing not far from the green, where wild flowers bloomed by day and even now the air was pleasantly scented with growing things.  He pulled off his robe and spread it on the ground for them to lie on, the better to see the sky.  She nestled close to him with her head on his shoulder and his arm lightly around her.  He was satisfyingly aware of the warmth of her body against his, and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

Then both of them were caught by the magic in the sky.  Stars streaked across the night, coming out of nowhere and fading into nothing, but dazzling the Elves while they lasted.  "Elbereth," sighed an awed Legolas, and Miriwen nodded in wordless agreement.

Finally, the frequency of glittery streaks began to diminish, and Legolas's mind turned to the maiden he held enfolded in his arm.  "Miri," he began tentatively, "how well do you know Falad?"  This was not quite the question that he wanted to ask, but it would have to do because the real question made him sound far too distressed about Falad's presence.

But Miriwen knew him well by now. After a moment's pause, she answered, "He has lived next door to me always, and he is a friend."  She raised herself up on her elbow and looked at him, and even as he listened to her, he was painfully aware of her breast brushing against his chest.  "He is like a brother to me," she said and smiled a sweet smile that nearly made him dizzy.  He had to fight to keep breathing as she leaned forward and kissed him.

***

"Where is Legolas?" Thranduil asked Eilian.  "He should be back by now."  He was annoyed.  He had given his youngest son leave to be gone during the star shower but told him to be back when it was done, and, so far as he was concerned, Legolas had taken advantage of his generosity.  Thranduil considered sending an attendant to look for Legolas and thus keep two of his sons with him, but he decided that confining knowledge of bad behavior within the family was more important.  "Go and find him," he ordered Eilian and then turned to listen to the elegantly dressed courtier who was proposing a change in a minor trade agreement.  When he stopped speaking, Thranduil would tell him to bring the matter up in court, but for now, he simply listened with a sympathetic expression.

Eilian walked off in the direction he had seen Legolas take and soon found Annael and Falad still sitting together, although they had run out of conversation long ago. Annael was feeling too lazy to move, and Falad was keeping an eye out for Miriwen's return.

Eilian nodded to Falad, whom he recognized from the infirmary, and addressed Annael. "Do you know where Legolas is?" he asked.

"I could not say," Annael responded promptly, causing Falad to stare at him with open mouth.

"He took that path into the woods," Falad told Eilian, pointing. Annael looked at him with open hostility.

Eilian raised his eyebrows at the two of them.  He was not sure what was going on here, but he did not have time to find out with an irate Thranduil waiting for him to return with Legolas in tow.  He started down the path and had not gone far before he found Legolas in the company of Miriwen. He should have known, he thought.  This was not the first time he had found these two together in the woods.  The first time had been a year and more ago at Ithilden's wedding.

The young couple was lying side by side and kissing with their arms wrapped around one another.  Not surprisingly, they were so absorbed in what they were doing that they had failed to hear Eilian approach.  He groaned to himself.  Anyone could have come along this path, he thought.  He supposed it was hard to find privacy indoors at their age, but still!  He thought about surprising them, and thus, he hoped, teaching them a lesson in discretion, but consideration for Miriwen's feelings led him to be kinder.

He backed up a bit and called Legolas's name. Then he walked toward them again to find them sitting next to one another with a foot of space between them.  He smiled reassuringly at Miriwen and then turned to Legolas.  "Adar wants you, brat," he said.  "You are late getting back to son-of-Thranduil duty."

Legolas gave a cry of dismay and jumped to his feet, while Eilian helped a blushing Miriwen to hers.  Attempting to put her as ease, he said smoothly, "You look very nice in that gown, Miriwen. The color goes with your hair."  She looked at him thankfully.  He offered her his arm and then looked at Legolas who was attempting to shake grass off the silk robe.  "What have you done with your circlet?" he asked.

Legolas hunted around a bit and found the thin metal band under a bush.  He slid the robe over his tunic and adjusted the circlet on his head.  Eilian grinned at him and bit back a comment to the effect that he looked like he had been rolling around in the grass with a maiden although, as a matter of fact, he did.  Miriwen would be embarrassed and Legolas too was clearly feeling uncomfortable. There was a limit to how far even Eilian was willing to go in teasing his little brother.  "Come," he said and led them back to the green, with Miriwen's hand through his arm.  "Just your touch makes my arm feel better," he said with exaggerated gallantry, and she laughed, obviously feeling more at ease.  He left Miriwen in the company of Falad and Annael, who were glaring at one another, and guided Legolas back to their father.

Fortunately for Legolas, Thranduil was occupied with another courtier.  For the moment, he could spare only a severe glance for his errant youngest son.  But when he had a moment, he beckoned Legolas out of his chair and pulled his son's head down so that his ear was close to Thranduil's mouth.  "You forget yourself," he said sternly.  "I do not know what you have been doing, although I can guess, but self-indulgence is not a characteristic I encourage."  Then he sent the chastened youth back to his place.

***

That night, Thranduil dreamed about Lorellin again.  Again, she led him through the forest, looking like a wood nymph with her bare feet and loose dark hair.  Again, she would not tell him where they were going. And again, her laughter turned to cries of fear.  Arrows flew through the trees and swords clashed nearby.  "Save him!" she cried.  "He is our son."  Again, Thranduil leapt into the trees and raced forward, searching for the son who was caught in the battle.  A sword flashed.  Someone fell.  He stretched out his arms toward that falling warrior, trying to see who it was.  Again he was frustrated in his desire to see.  He could only guess wildly at which son was endangered.  He awoke with a start and lay quiet for a brief time, while his heart slowed.  Then he rose and sat near the fire, thinking.

In his long life, Thranduil had occasionally had prophetic dreams.  They did not come often, and when he was younger, he had had difficulty recognizing them as prophetic until the events they foretold came to pass.  He rather thought that all Wood-elves had these dreams occasionally, although they seldom talked about them, reluctant to appear foolish if they had judged the dream incorrectly. Stiff necks did not always make for open conversations.

Thranduil was uncertain of the nature of this dream because it matched only too well with what he thought in his waking hours, so perhaps it only showed him his fears in another form.  But he had had the dream twice now, and he decided that he was taking no chances. In the morning, he would act.