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A Creature of Fire  by daw the minstrel

I owe Nilmandra many thanks for her beta reading on this story. She has helped me more than I can say.

*******

11. Healing

Legolas hurried along the path, aware as he did so of the very odd feeling that time was limited, that if he did not do something soon, he would not be able to do it at all. But what? What did he need to do? He rounded a bend in the path, and there, not twenty feet away, was Tuilinn, walking away from him. Tuilinn, he thought with relief. He needed to find Tuilinn. How could he have forgotten?

He took a single step foward, and then someone called his name. He glanced over his shoulder but saw no one and turned hastily back to Tuilinn. But somehow she had moved much farther off along the path. He tried desperately to call her but no sound came out of his mouth. He tried to run after her, but in a way that he suddenly, hopelessly recognized as familiar, he seemed caught in place. As he watched in despair, she rounded another bend in the path and disappeared.

His eyes snapped suddenly into focus, and he lay with his heart pounding for a disoriented moment, staring at his pack, which sat open on the floor, spilling out a filthy tunic. He blinked, and then the memory of his arrival home came flooding back. He had been so exhausted that he had nearly nodded off while still on horseback, and Thranduil had ridden up next to him and pulled him off his own horse to ride in front of his father, where he had promptly fallen asleep.

He had awakened only partially when Thranduil roused him enough to stagger into the palace. Now he remembered Ithilden’s arms reaching to help him down from Thranduil’s horse, Eilian’s anxious face, and Alfirin’s cry that she would fetch some broth, but to his eternal gratitude, Thranduil had half carried him into his room and shut the door on everyone else. Legolas had a vague memory of his father helping him undress and then pulling the covers over him as he fell into a black well of sleep.

He thought about that. For the first time since Tuilinn died, he had slept deeply without being dosed with some sort of herb. A wave of guilt washed over him. Could he really have forgotten her enough to sleep?

Slowly he pushed the covers back and sat up, his brain still a little foggy with the last wisps of sleep. From force of habit more than anything else, he struggled to his feet and made his way into his bathing chamber, where he opened the tap and watched as the hot water flowed into his tub and he tried to decide how he felt about being home. Judging from his father’s manner on the previous day, he was going to have to surrender all hope of returning to his patrol for a while. Thranduil had seemed even more certain than Beliond was that Legolas belonged at home, and while Legolas thought that in a pinch he could ignore Beliond’s orders, he could not imagine defying his father.

How was he going to manage without the press of duties to keep him busy? he wondered despairingly. With a sigh, he slipped into the hot water, allowing it to soothe his stiff shoulder. There was no point in worrying. He would simply have to take things as they came. He lay in the cooling water, listening to the sounds of someone moving about in his room, probably a servant who had come to tidy up. Unwilling to face anyone else just yet, he waited until he heard the door of his room close before he dragged himself from the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist, and padded through the door of his sleeping chamber.

Abruptly, he halted. Someone had indeed tidied the room and gone. Whoever it was had probably also brought the tray of fresh bread, butter, jam, and tea that sat on the little table near the chairs by the fireplace. But additionally, in one of the chairs, with a pile of petitions in his lap, sat his father. His face grave, he looked up as Legolas entered the room. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

Legolas drew a deep breath and crossed the room to his cupboard to begin drawing on clean clothes. “I slept well, thank you, Adar.” He kept his back to his father, hoping Thranduil was not going to begin fussing as if Legolas were some sort of invalid. His father held his peace, however, and Legolas finally finished lacing his tunic and had to turn to face him.

“Come and sit,” Thranduil said simply. “Alfirin has sent bread and strawberry jam, and she will be demanding an account from me of whether you ate any of it. You will make my life easier if you take a bit.”

Legolas could not help smiling at that. Alfirin had run Thranduil’s household with a firm hand from the day she married Ithilden. Legolas had been a youth at the time and, as much as she could, she had seen to it that he ate his vegetables and dressed warmly enough in the winter. He had not even minded particularly, for he had taken pleasure in being tended to as all his friends were. If it would make Alfirin happy, he would try to eat some of what she had sent.

He seated himself across the little table from his father and smeared jam on a slice of bread, while Thranduil poured tea for both of them. Cautiously, Legolas took a small bite and chewed, finding that the sweetness of the jam made the food unexpectedly easy to swallow. He took a sip of tea, aware of his father quietly doing the same thing, his eyes not on Legolas but rather on the fire that Legolas suddenly realized had been lit despite the fact that it was summer. He had to admit that the warmth was welcome; he had not realized how cold he had been feeling and was surprised that his father had known.

Thranduil waited until Legolas put his plate of half-finished bread aside before he spoke. “If you are willing to talk, Legolas, I would like to hear about Tuilinn. What is important to you is important to me, and aside from what Eilian told me, I know nothing about her.”

Legolas sat in silence for a moment. Could he speak about Tuilinn? His heart contracted at the thought. And yet, he realized, he wanted to talk about nothing else. Moreover, he wanted his father to understand what she had meant to him. “I know that Eilian thought I had not known her very long,” he said slowly, “but, Adar, I have heard you talk often enough about the night you met Naneth. You knew at once, did you not? You knew she was the one?” He stopped and swallowed as his voice began to quaver.

“Yes.” To Legolas’s relief, his father’s eyes were on his tea. “I knew. We both did. She dragged me off to meet her mother at once.” He smiled slightly and then looked up at Legolas. “Are you saying you felt that way, iôn-nín?” he asked gently.

“Nearly.” Legolas managed what he hoped was a smile. “When I first saw her at Anyr’s settlement, she was playing with children, just as Naneth was doing when you met her. But I was a little slower than you, Adar, because I did not know how I felt until I walked with her that evening.” He drew a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “And then, in our camp and in Dale, I felt her presence. And when she,” he hesitated and then braced himself and went on, “when she died, I knew she was gone. I could not feel her any more.”

And suddenly, his eyes stung and he had to gasp for air, and then, at last, his tenuous grasp on himself gave way with a completeness that left him helpless, and he began to weep with great, shuddering heaves of his shoulders. Hastily, Thranduil rose and drew Legolas onto his feet and into an embrace, where he grasped the back of Legolas’s neck and made wordless comforting sounds.

“I am so sorry,” Legolas choked out.

“Grieving is nothing to be sorry for,” Thranduil said. “You would have to be heartless to avoid grief in this life, and I would never wish that for you, much as I regret your pain now.”

Legolas laid his head on his father’s shoulder and, for a long moment, allowed himself to be comforted by the warmth of the familiar embrace. It occurred to him that his father probably knew from experience exactly how he felt. He looked up in wonder. “How did you bear it when Naneth died, Adar?

Thranduil sighed. “I can scarcely remember now. I had you to care for and your brothers to worry about, and I had the well-being of the realm to consider. And then, remember that I had already seen my adar die, so I knew that if I could just survive for long enough, I would again be able to sense the bond your naneth and I share.” He smiled slightly at Legolas. “You know that we Elves are somewhere in Arda for as long as it lasts, and I have found it is possible to draw comfort from that.”

Legolas knew that Thranduil was right, that Tuilinn was in the Halls of Waiting and would someday be in Valinor, but he found that thought to be a poor substitute for having her in his arms. He drew back a little, and Thranduil released him with a last pat on the shoulder. “You must have things to see to, Adar. You do not have to stay with me.”

Thranduil shrugged. “My advisors can manage without me for a while. You are more important.”

Gratified beyond what he could have imagined, Legolas nonetheless said, “Really, Adar, you do not have to stay. I have had almost no time alone since it happened, and I would like to just sit in the garden or spend some time in the woods.”

Thranduil hesitated only briefly and then nodded. “Very well.” He paused again, “But do not go too far into the woods without telling someone, please. I would worry if I did not know where you were.”

Legolas had to bite his tongue to keep from giving way to his irritation at being treated like an elfling or an invalid. He had given his father good cause to be concerned after all. Indeed, he supposed in some ways he was an invalid. “Very well,” he said as peaceably as he could manage.

Thranduil nodded, and the two of them made their way out of Legolas’s room and down the hall toward Thranduil’s office. “Is Eilian still home?” Legolas asked. He thought he had seen his brother on the previous evening, but when he considered the matter, he was surprised that Eilian had not yet returned to the settlement.

“Yes. He will be here for a while, I think.” Thranduil offered no explanation, and Legolas suddenly suspected that he already knew why Eilian was staying at the stronghold. He and Eilian had always been close, and his brother was probably worried about him. They were all going to fuss over him, he thought in despair. How would he ever be able to feel normal again?

At the office door, Thranduil paused and reached again to pull Legolas’s head toward him and kiss his brow. “Enjoy the garden, iôn-nín. I know you may find this hard to believe just now, but Arda is still beautiful, and it welcomes us to our place in it.” Legolas nodded, and when Thranduil had disappeared into his office, he went on his way through the antechamber and out the Great Doors.

It was early yet, he realized with surprise. The sunlight still filtered through the tops of the trees, and he drew in the sweet scent of damp grass and rich earth as he made his way down the steps, across the bridge, and through the gate into the palace gardens. He walked along the path to take refuge in the grotto where he had sat what seemed like an eternity ago when he had overheard Eilian and Celuwen arguing about spending time in a settlement. He was nicely hidden away here, he thought, as he sat down on the bench. For the first time in what seemed an age, he drew a deep breath and settled to listen to the birds and the familiar song of this part of the forest, the part that was his home. But to his dismay, he found it difficult to bring himself in tune with that song, distracted as he was by the pain that seemed permanently lodged in his chest.

He had been there for only a few moments before he heard two sets of footsteps approaching, and almost instantly, he recognized them. Thus he was not surprised when he heard Ithilden’s and Alfirin’s voices through the screen of lilac bushes. He surprised himself by feeling amused at the way he seemed fated to eavesdrop on his family whenever he came to this spot. I will have to remember to be careful what I say when I am on the path near here, he thought.

“But he scarcely ate any of what I sent for his morning meal,” Alfirin lamented.

Legolas stiffened. They were talking about him. Of course they were, he added to himself with some resentment. What else had he expected?

“Try not to worry.” Ithilden sounded as if he were soothing her. “I will not allow him to go back to his patrol until he is better. Come, love,” he added. “Kiss me good bye. I will try to be home to eat with you at mid-day.” There was a muffled sound to which Legolas tried to close his ears as a wild longing for Tuilinn swept through him. Then he heard the two sets of footsteps part as Ithilden went on toward the other end of the garden and the path to the training fields while Alfirin retreated toward the palace.

For a long time, Legolas sat, wrestling with his irritation at how weak his family all seemed to assume he was. They love you, he reminded himself.  It is only natural that they worry about you. But even as he knew it was true, he despaired at being able to tolerate their pity. And even more, he admitted with some shame, he despaired of being able to witness with peace the happiness of those who still had what he had lost.

***

Two days later, he gazed sightlessly at the book in his lap, while Alfirin worked at her loom at the other end of the family’s sitting room and Eilian sat at a nearby table, fletching arrows and singing softly to himself. From the corner of his eye, Legolas could see Alfirin look up from her work to smile in Eilian’s direction.

“You are in fine feather this morning, Eilian.”

He laughed and held up one of the feathers he was cutting to use on his arrow. “I am generally considered to be the best fletcher in the Southern Patrol.”

She laughed good naturedly at the silly joke. “Should I assume your good mood has something to do with the letter you received the morning?”

“You may assume all you like, as long as you assume that Celuwen is on her way home,” Eilian said with satisfaction.

“Then you will have to begin behaving yourself again,” Alfirin told him.

Eilian grinned. “On the contrary, when Celuwen is here, I can let my wicked imagination run riot.”

Alfirin laughed and reddened slightly. Legolas gripped the edges of his book and wondered if he had enough energy to get up and leave the room. If he did, both Alfirin and Eilian would ask where he was going in worried tones, and Eilian might offer to go with him. Even now, he saw Eilian glance his way and abruptly sober, looking a bit guilty. Legolas sent him a reassuring smile. Why should he mar his brother’s happiness, just because his own had slipped from his grasp?

A knock sounded at the sitting room door, and a guard appeared. “Beliond is here to see Lord Legolas,” the guard announced.

Legolas could have sworn that Alfirin looked slightly dismayed, but she gamely said, “Show him in.”

The guard disappeared, and after a moment, Beliond stalked through the open door to the sitting room. He bowed to both Alfirin and Eilian. “My lady. My lord,” he greeted them. Then he turned to Legolas. “Get your gear. We are going camping.” Legolas’s mouth dropped open.

“Legolas needs to be home just now,” said Alfirin sharply, rising from her place behind her loom.

“Nonsense,” declared Beliond. “He needs to be in the woods.” He turned to glare at Eilian. “Are you going to object too?”

Eilian raised his hands in protest. “I would not dare.”

Much to his astonishment, Legolas could feel himself grinning. He snapped his book shut and rose. “I will be ready momentarily.”

Alfirin looked at him in dismay. She opened her mouth to speak, but Eilian forestalled her. “Are you sure you want to go, brat?”

“Yes.” Legolas was already in the doorway, ready to go to his chamber to throw clothes and supplies into a pack.

“Then have a nice time,” Eilian said and looked apologetically at Alfirin, who sank resignedly back onto her bench.

***

Legolas glanced to his left. Beliond was there somewhere, Legolas knew, but it took him a long moment before he could spot his keeper among the trees. In theory, they were hunting this morning, looking for deer in the silvery light of dawn, just as they had done on the previous morning. But in practice, Beliond did not seem to Legolas to be particularly intent on bringing down a deer. Legolas had seen Beliond hunting for meat when they were on patrol and knew that he was an efficient and effective hunter, so he was a little puzzled by Beliond’s unfocused manner.

Beliond beckoned Legolas toward him and then swung up into a large maple with broad, spreading branches. Legolas made his way toward him and joined him in the tree. “Is something the matter?” Legolas asked.

“Be quiet and enjoy the sunrise.”

Legolas grimaced and then made himself comfortable. He and Beliond had passed most of the last two days in a silence that Legolas found restful, so he was not surprised by his keeper’s brusque instructions. He leaned back against the bole of the maple, comforted when he heard the familiar way its song shifted to include him. Slowly the grey sky of dawn took on a pink and then a golden hue as the sun made its way over the horizon, stirring the dew into mist. He thought of the dawn that he and Tuilinn had watched together in the camp of the Northern Border Patrol. She would have liked this, he thought wistfully.

“I have always liked this spot,” said Beliond, startling Legolas from his memories.

“Is this where you come then, when we are on leave?” Legolas asked slowly.

“This is one of the places.” Beliond looked thoughtfully at Legolas. “I have always found it comforting simply to be here. The forest goes on, requiring very little from me but reverence. I do not need to do anything while I am here. I just live and take joy in what I find.”

Legolas lowered his gaze, thinking about the losses Beliond had endured in his long life. For a moment, he was tempted to ask how Beliond had stood it when his son died, but upon reflection, he suspected that that was the question that Beliond had just tried to answer. Instead, he asked, “Are we going to look for deer?”

Beliond shrugged. “Do you want to?”

Legolas considered. “Not really. We have plenty to eat.” He had not been particularly hungry in any case, and they had caught fish the night before. They could do that again.

Beliond nodded. “Then perhaps we will just enjoy the moment. In silence,” he added forbiddingly. Legolas smiled ruefully and leaned his head back against the maple. Beliond was right. He had no place he needed to be just now. He was in no hurry. He would enjoy the moment as much as he could, tinged with pain though it might be.

***

Ithilden finished reading the letter Alfirin had handed him and looked up with a faint smile. “Sinnarn says Elorfin had him leading a patrol last week.”

Legolas grinned at him. “Sinnarn can manage responsibility when he has to. He just does not want anyone to expect him to do it all the time.”

Ithilden grimaced. “Surely ‘doing it all the time’ is what is meant by being responsible.”

Eilian’s eyes had been on the door, but now he turned to Ithilden. “Why should Sinnarn take responsibility when you are so eager to take it all on yourself, big brother?”

Ithilden frowned, but Thranduil raised an appeasing hand. “Sinnarn does what he needs to, and that is surely all we can ask. Would you like more soup, Legolas?”

“No thank you, Adar.” Legolas had managed to eat at every meal since he had come home from the camping trip with Beliond, but doing so had been a chore he had undertaken only because it pleased his family to see him eat, and it had seemed selfish not to do what he could to make them happy when they were so obviously concerned about him.

The door to the dining room opened, and Legolas turned to see Celuwen coming through it, smiling broadly. With a cry, Eilian leapt to his feet and caught her in an embrace. “I felt you were near!” he cried. “But I feared I was only listening to my desire!”

“I have missed you so,” she murmured with her face buried in his chest.

Legolas’s heart twisted, and he had to look away, catching Thranduil’s eyes on him as he did so. He could not help himself however, and when he met his father’s gaze, it was to say, “By your leave, Adar, I will be on my way. I am going riding with Annael.” Thranduil looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, but then he nodded, and Legolas rose. “I am glad to see you, Celuwen,” he said, as she broke away from Eilian to look anxiously at him. “I look forward to hearing about what has been happening in the settlement.”

She frowned suddenly and turned to look at Eilian, and Legolas made good his escape. He found Annael waiting for him in the stable yard, leaning against a fence and chatting with the stable master. They straightened as he approached, and the stable master signaled to one his assistants, who ducked through the wide open stable doors and led Alasse out into the yard. The bay snorted when he saw Legolas and came trotting eagerly toward him. For some reason, Legolas found the horse’s obvious pleasure on seeing him to be touching. “Good afternoon, beautiful,” he said, scratching behind Alasse’s ear.

“He is full of himself today, my lord,” the stable master said, patting the horse fondly. “You would do well to let him run.”

“I intend to. Annael is skeptical when I tell him how fast Alasse is. I think he needs a lesson in recognizing the truth when he hears it.”

Annael laughed and walked toward his own horse, who was peacefully cropping grass at the edge of the yard. “Are you talking about racing through the meadow or the trees?”

Legolas grinned at him. “The trees.” The stable master rolled his eyes but said nothing. He had seen young Elves with gleams in their eyes lead horses into the woods for too long to believe he could stop them by offering common sense advice. Legolas and Annael mounted and trotted off toward the woods, warming the horses’ muscles and their own. The spot they sought was well out of sight of the last of the cottages and was known to every young male Elf whom Legolas knew. The trees were old here, with wide avenues beneath their dense shade. Legolas paused, eying the spaces in front of him, aware of Annael doing the same thing a short distance to his right. Alasse pricked up his ears, and Legolas could feel the horse quivering beneath him.

“On the count of three,” Annael said. “One. Two. Three!”

The horses surged forward, and for a time Legolas forgot everything else as he concentrated on the complicated task of weaving his fleet-footed way through trees without breaking his own neck or Alasse’s. He was vaguely conscious of hearing Annael off to his right, but his attention had narrowed to the path right in front of him and the present moment, in which he, his horse, and the trees around him seemed to unite in a single, exhilarating sense of speed and control. He burst out of the trees and into the meadow, exalting in the certainty that he had beaten Annael, who closed the distance between them to ride alongside Legolas as they slowed their horses to ride more sedately down the length of the meadow.

Legolas turned toward his friend, whose face was flushed with the excitement and exertion of the race. “Let that be a lesson to you,” he laughed, and Annael laughed in return. They entered the trees again at the meadow’s other end, and settled to riding side by side, enjoying the summer afternoon. Finally, Annael glanced at the sun. “I need to be getting back,” he said reluctantly. “I go on duty soon.” Legolas turned his horse toward home as Annael did the same thing.

For a time, they rode in silence, and then, tentatively, Annael said, “My naneth wants to know when you are coming to see her.”

Legolas hesitated. A little to his shame, he had avoided Elowen since he had come back from the disastrous trip to Dale. He had been reluctant to face her sympathy, not least because he was afraid he might break down in the face of it. But now, suddenly, he thought about Annael’s father, who had died the year that Annael and Legolas came of age, and he had a vivid memory of Elowen’s lonely face as she watched the dancing at Legolas’s coming-of-age ceremony. Abruptly he was struck by the recognition of how courageous she had been in facing the loss of her husband. Why had he never realized that before? he thought in amazement.

“Now,” he told Annael. “I will come now.”

Annael sent him a surprised look and then smiled. “That will please her.”

Legolas smiled too. “Good.”

***

Legolas came out of Annael’s cottage and whistled for Alasse to follow him as he started away down the path, walking slowly and thinking about Elowen. She had sympathized with him, just as he expected, but then she had moved on to telling tales about her forester granddaughter. She clearly doted on Emmelin as much as Thranduil did on Sinnarn. Legolas was glad for her.

He came to a place where the path branched off and paused, reluctantly aware of a duty that still awaited his attention. I have put it off too long, he thought resolutely, and turned to follow the branching path. He went through a stretch of trees to emerge near a cottage in front of which sat the person he sought and, to Legolas’s surprise, Eilian. They turned their heads as he approached.

“Good afternoon, Galelas,” Legolas said. He looked at Galelas’s leg, propped up on a stool in front of the bench on which he and Eilian sat. “How is your leg?” It was the first time Legolas had seen Galelas since he had sent him home with Eilian. I should have come sooner, Legolas thought guiltily. I am Galelas’s lieutenant, and his well being is my concern.

“It is healing well,” said Galelas, a little stiffly. He hesitated for a second, glanced at Eilian, and then indicated a second bench set at an angle to his. “Would you care to sit for a while and have some cider?”

Legolas too glanced at his brother, who was looking exasperated. “Thank you. Cider would taste good on a warm day like this.” He sat on the bench and smiled wryly when Eilian nodded in approval.

“I will get another cup,” Eilian said and jumped up to disappear through the open door of the house.

Legolas and Galelas sat in awkward silence for a moment, and then Galelas held up the letter that he held in his hand. “I have had a letter from Vanduil. He tells me things are going well in the north. The dragon has apparently not ventured very far from the mountain. But then,” he added, withdrawing a little, “you probably knew that.”

“I did not,” Legolas said. He hesitated and then said, “My family tends to withhold any news they think might upset me. As you have no doubt seen with Eilian, they are a little overprotective.”

Galelas looked taken aback, but then he sobered and said, “I am sorry about the maiden.” Legolas nodded but said nothing. His feelings about Tuilinn were too raw to share with outsiders.

Eilian emerged from the cottage, with a tray containing a cup and a plate of fruit, and Galelas’s mother hovering at his elbow. “How are you, my lord?” she cried as Legolas rose. “I was so sorry to hear about what happened in Dale. When I think of the times my son Tinár has been there carrying messages, I just thank the Valar that nothing worse occurred.”

Legolas blinked and shot a quick look at Galelas, whose face was reddening. “Thank you for your good wishes, mistress,” he managed to say. He hesitated to say more but could not bear the injustice in her words. His family might be overprotective, but at least they made it clear that they recognized Legolas’s worth. “Galelas was extremely brave in the face of the dragon’s approach. I was lucky to have him with me.”

Galelas’s mother beamed at him. “Yes, both of my sons are brave.”

Eilian set the tray down on the bench next to Legolas. “Thank you, mistress,” he told her. “I would not dream of taking you away from your no doubt many responsibilities. We can manage.” He reached for the skin of cider next to Galelas and poured some for Legolas.

She hesitated, apparently torn between wanting to claim that she was overburdened and wanting to stay in the presence of two of the king’s sons. “I am busy,” she admitted finally. “You must call me if you need anything.”

“You are too kind,” said Eilian, and she bustled back inside. Eilian grinned, took a handful of berries, and dropped back onto the bench next to Galelas. “Did Galelas tell you that he seems to have acquired an admiring little brother?” He tossed a berry into the air and caught it in his mouth. “I have told him that they are an annoying species, but he is determined to think that having Vanduil look wide-eyed at him is a good thing. Could you look at me that way more often, do you think?”

Legolas could not help laughing. “What are you doing out of the palace, Eilian? I would have thought you would be barricaded in your apartment with Celuwen.”

Eilian grimaced. “Celuwen has learned that I was training some of the settlement Elves in combat and that that was what we were doing when we saw the flames on the mountain. I told her we were hunting,” he added a little shamefacedly.

“I take it she is annoyed?”

Eilian nodded. “It cannot be helped though. The arrival of the dragon only shows how much the settlers need to learn such things.” His tone had turned somber, which did not surprise Legolas, since light-hearted as he was, Eilian was always serious about his responsibilities as a warrior.

“She will get over it,” Legolas sympathized.

Eilian flashed an impudent grin. “I think I can persuade her to do that. I just have to let her cool down first.”

Legolas became aware that Galelas was looking at Eilian with concern written on his face. It occurred to him that Galelas was unaccustomed to watching a family quarrel and make up, and he felt an unexpected stab of pity. “Do you know when you will be ready for duty again?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Galelas turned to him. “Another week perhaps. I am exercising now to get my strength back.”

Legolas nodded, set his cider aside, and rose to go. “I am glad you are doing so well. I meant what I told your naneth.”

Galelas flushed slightly. “Thank you,” he said woodenly.

Eilian stood too. “I will go with you, brat. Perhaps I can hurry Celuwen along a little if I try hard enough.”

Legolas laughed. “I expect you can.” They both bid farewell to Galelas and started along the path toward home. Once more, Legolas looked off down a side path when they came to a branching point. He hesitated and then grimaced. There was another call he had been thinking about making and today seemed to be the day for it. “Will you see to my horse, Eilian? I need to see someone along here.”

Eilian glanced down the path Legolas indicated, frowned, and then flinched in enlightenment. “Of course I will if you want me to.” He paused and looked at Legolas with his brows drawn down. “But you do not really have to do this, Legolas. They would understand if you did not.”

“I know.  I want to.”

Eilian hesitated, and then, reluctantly, he nodded, whistled to Alasse, and went on his way home as Legolas went along the new path. He paused outside the cottage at the path’s end, steeled himself, and then raised his hand to knock. After a moment, Naran’s mother opened the door. It was the first time Legolas had seen her since he brought home the body of her son. “How are you, mistress?” he asked gently. And then he took her in his arms as she burst into tears.

***

Legolas walked along the garden path, still slightly shaken by his visit to Naran’s parents. They had been having a hard time. Legolas knew now how painful the death of a beloved one was. He hoped he had been able to comfort them a little by listening to them talk about their child.

“Come and sit with me for a while, iôn-nín.”

He looked up from his absorption in his own thoughts to see Thranduil sitting on a shaded bench in the part of the garden that Legolas had been told was his mother’s favorite. He hesitated. It was rare for his father to sit in the garden before their evening meal, for Thranduil usually did not have the time. “Were you waiting for me, Adar?” he asked mildly, as he took the seat his father indicated.

Thranduil smiled but did not answer the question. Instead he looked around. “Your naneth loved those roses,” he said. Legolas looked at the roses that sprawled untidily up a trellis and nodded. He had heard that before. “I have been thinking of her a great deal in the last few weeks,” Thranduil said. He shrugged. “Well, I suppose I always think about her a great deal, but since I have seen you struggling with Tuilinn’s death, I have thought about her even more.”

Legolas looked down at his hands, thinking about how long it had been since his mother died, and aware as he had somehow never been before of what his father had lost.

“One of the things I remember from the time just after your naneth died was how hard I found it to be in the company of happily married people,” Thranduil went on, “and I thought perhaps that you might be feeling the same way.”

Legolas darted a look at him and then looked away again. “I have found it hard. I suppose I am jealous.”

“Yes, I was too. But I ask you not to pull away from your brothers when they are with their wives, Legolas. If you do, you will be shutting yourself out from a life with people who love you and want you near them.”

Legolas watched a bee darting in and out of the roses. “I know, Adar. It is odd, but I am somehow more comfortable just now with those who have suffered the same kind of loss I have than I am with those who are happy.”

Thranduil nodded. “I can remember feeling that way too. All I can suggest is that you make an effort to treasure both what you had with Tuilinn and what you have now and keep on with your life. Surely that is what Tuilinn would have wanted you to do, just as I believe it is what your naneth would have wanted for me.”

They sat quietly for a while, and Legolas became aware that his father was eying the roses and smiling. He raised an inquiring eyebrow, and Thranduil laughed. “I was remembering the time your naneth was out here pruning that vine in the spring. She had you with her, and she was trying to keep you away from the roses because the thorns are wickedly long and sharp. She thought you were happily arranging pebbles on this bench, but you got hold of the extra pruning shears she had in her basket and when she looked down, you had hacked away all the new growth at the bottom of the vine. You smiled up at her and said ‘I help.’ What could she do?”

Legolas sat utterly immobile. The warm day that had surprised him after long months of cold, the too-big shears working awkwardly in his hands, his mother looking down at him. “She laughed,” he breathed. “And she said, ‘That is enough help for now, my heart.’”

Thranduil stared at him. “Did she? She did not tell me that.” He looked away. “She laughed often. Eilian is like her in that.” He sat quietly, while Legolas marveled at the suddenly clear memory of his mother. Where in Arda had that come from?

Thranduil turned to face him again. “Loss can break us, Legolas, or it can make us stronger, more compassionate, more aware of what is important and what is simply trivia. I know how strong a person you are. I have faith that you will weather this well and be happy again.”

To Thranduil’s obvious surprise and pleasure, Legolas leaned forward and kissed his father’s cheek. “Thank you, Adar. I can have no better example to follow than you.”

Thranduil smiled and rose. “Come. Let us go in and let Alfirin feed you.”

Legolas laughed, rose, and walked with his father along the path that would take them home.

The End

*******

AN: Thranduil’s meeting with Legolas’s mother is described in a story by my beta, Nilmandra, called “First Celebrations.” That story is available at Stories of Arda.

Thank you to everyone who has followed this story and especially to those who have reviewed it. This story has been much more angsty than my usual fare, and I’ve been entirely in Legolas’s head. I’ve enjoyed myself mostly, and I hope you have too.





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