Aearlinn

Now Elrond began his journey on the track that led to the grassy meadow deep in the woods, but it was not long before the insistent call of Legolas' soul drew him in a different direction. At first he didn't think anything of it and retained his headlong acceleration, yet soon there was no denying exactly where his Wood Elf was waiting and Elrond came to a complete stop. Just there, just beyond that last brake of trees was a spot so picturesque it made the heart tremble. He could hear the delicate cascade of the falls, so ephemeral as to resemble a veil of mist, the sound soft and lyrical, intermingled with the occasional notes of chimes as drops of water struck a collection of copper bells.

The land didn't rise so steeply here, where Elrond's neatly tended groves of pear and apple occupied a sloping terrace. The domestic trees in their ordered ranks merged gradually into the disarray of mixed hardwoods and bracken and these in turn gave way to evergreens: cedars, firs, and pines better acclimated to higher elevation and thinner soil. The rill that fed the garden, no more than an arm's length in width at its broadest, was actually a small branch of the Rhosshîr, the bounding flow of Rivendell's south west corner. It zigzagged from the top of the ridge before pouring over an exposed lip of rock halfway down the valley wall, dropping a little over ten metres in a fine pale sheet of silver and white.

The pool hollowed by the water's impact was shallow, the clear space around the bare rock ringed in looming hemlocks and limned in emerald ferns. A soft fog of mist overcast the hidden site where the sun peeked in only obliquely even at noon so that it was ever-cool and fresh. The miniature cataract hurried on through the woods, across the orchard, and down into the formal gardens, filling a small lake, a set of reflecting pools, Legolas' water lily bog and ultimately wending its way to join the Bruinen.



It was one of the most idyllic spots in the valley and for many centuries Elrond had made it his habit to visit the place, yet not so much in these latter days of the Third Age. Even without seeing it, the sound of the falls and the chimes evoked the image of the serene grotto. He could picture the cluster of verdigris bowls, a metallic imitation of lotuses, swaying and bobbing on long slender rods drilled into the stone. The upturned cups captured the cascading fluid, the pressure of the droplets causing them to strike one against the other in a harmoniously random pattern. Instead of wind-chimes, these were water-chimes and they had been Celebrian's invention. There was another set, smaller and tuned to a higher octave, planted in her private garden, but those only played when rain came to Imladris. Hearing them always gave his soul a severe twist yet Elrond refused to have them removed.

More than the sound of the bells surrounded Elrond's heart with such a squeezing pang. The place itself was almost sacred to his memories of Celebrian and he hadn't imagined Legolas even knew about it. Standing on the path, he realised it would be absurd for him not to know, for Legolas spent nearly all of his time out in the wilds and in ten years time must certainly have explored every cove and brae of Elrond's haven. The Elven Lord scoffed at himself; it seemed he was operating on nothing less than an interminable string of interconnected abnegations of everything in his life that conflicted with his carefully maintained, appropriate, and manageable reality.

Lanthir Fân, she had named it without pretence of grandeur or romantic flair, saying she had no need of grandiose word-dressing for a place that was perfection in and of itself. Celebrian could appreciate the beauty and solemn majesty of the hidden alcove without any sentimentality or emotion. It was a place of seclusion and solitude where she would often go to meditate, saying it reminded her of her youth in Lorien, though there were no water falls there. She was talking about the atmosphere of the location, Elrond believed, the sense of quietude and of presence as if elves from Ages past had come to sit beside the fern-rimmed pool and listen to the falling water.

He had been extremely surprised when she offered to share this private place with him. Celebrian was kind and compassionate and did all she could to mask the irritation her husband's worshipful adoration worked on her nerves, yet Elrond always knew how much she hated it. In some part of his mind, he believed that if he'd been able to let go of that visionary image he held of her, the mysteriously beautiful daughter of the world's most powerful enchantress, and see her instead as simply Celebrian, a maiden of the woods and dales, she might have learned to love him truly. He hadn't been able to manage it, though, even then caught up in the idea of legend and destiny that had brought them together. Should not the newest Lord of Elves, Keeper of Vilya, have to wife the fair daughter of the Lord and Lady of Lorien? Indeed, there was no other elven Lady of high enough station to merit his interest.

It had taken many long years for Elrond to understand why this was viewed as an insult by his chosen mate. It was not Celebrian he'd loved after all but merely the idea of Celebrian as his noble and steadfast mate, the mother of his children, his regal Queen in all but title, his most trusted advisor. By the time he figured this out it was too late; she despised him and had found comfort and love in the arms of another. His efforts to learn about who she was and what her likes and dislikes might be, in short his attempts to court his own wife, were met with amused pity and gentle avoidance. Thus, the day she had led him to her personal sanctuary he was filled with anticipation composed of equal parts hope and terror. Was she about to demand he release her from their bond in order to legitimise her union with the one she loved? Was she about to tell him she had ended the affair and wished to try for a true meeting of hearts between them?

As with almost everything concerning her, he'd been completely wrong. The look in her eyes when he'd expressed that dread was filled with such anger and disgust that he thought she was going to strike him. Somehow she'd mastered herself; she always did, and explained what she believed should not need elucidation. She wished for neither of those options; indeed, the idea of breaking from her marriage and causing her sons strife in such a manner was unthinkable. She had brought him to this place for a specific reason, a reason that had much to do with the destiny with which Elrond was so entwined. They were to bring another child into the world, a daughter, a Lady who would rival Luthien in beauty and grace, a being who would through her unfailing love change the shape of Arda and aid in the defeat of evil's most hated champion. It was in Lanthir Fân that Arwen had been conceived.

Elrond stood on the pathway remembering all this as the chimes rang in their calming, soothing way, and suddenly felt so terribly old. Despite all the time transpired he'd learned nothing, hadn't changed; he was standing in this place, about to make the same mistakes with Legolas. He had revered Celebrian as far above him while he treated the sylvan just the opposite, yet the error was identical. In both cases Elrond had set a gulf between himself and his mate. If he couldn't alter this pattern he was going to lose the elf he loved for the second time.

"Do you so much despise me that you will refuse to answer my call, then?"

This woeful query drifted through the remaining distance, mixing with the singing bells that seemed to have taken on a mourning note. Elrond felt a sharp jolt rip through his morbid memories, recalling Legolas' explanation of the call and its importance: on the day you fail to answer, surely I shall die. He fairly leaped through the trees and broke into the small clearing to find Legolas seated by the little pool dangling his feet in the water, head lowered so that his golden mane veiled his face from view. Even so, the uneasy set of his shoulders revealed his fear and loneliness, as if Elrond had already cast him off.

"Nay, don't ever think that. I could never despise you, Legolas. I just wasn't expecting to find you here; it's a place with many memories for me." Elrond sat beside his youthful lover, who still had not raised his eyes, and gently laid his hand over the long, lethal fingers splayed upon the smooth sandstone surface. There was no reaction to this touch and Elrond decided that was better than an abrupt retreat from contact. He took a deep breath, not sure how he was going to get through this discussion, and started the only way he knew how. "I will always love you; that's what makes this so very difficult."

"Aye, for us all. My love for you is no less strong, nor have your sons learned to hate one another or their Adar." Now it was Legolas' turn to heave a long sigh in and out as he spared a swift glance at Elrond's face. "If…if you think it best, I will leave."

"What?" Elrond hadn't expected that and it was impossible not to feel hurt by it. "How can you speak of leaving when last night you promised not to go? Now you want to desert me and take our babe away with you to Mirkwood. What of my heart, Legolas? Don't you care for that at all?"

"Of course I do!" Legolas insisted. "I would leave for Aman, not Greenwood. I could not face my people as things stand and it wouldn't be fair to our babe either. Yet if I stay here… Elrond, I do not want to do anything that will hurt you or cause you to learn to hate me."

"Then speak no more of leaving."

For a long time they remained silent and only the soft intermittent chiming contested with the rustling cascade. Somehow there was too much to say and all the words in existence too few to express even the smallest part of it. Legolas broke the quiet.

"Lindir says that if we do this thing, the sensation of longing will lessen. He says I can return to them the light they gave and this should restore balance between our feär."

"Lindir says? Lindir, Lindir, Lindir! Why is everyone discussing the most private aspects of my life with that minstrel?" Elrond fumed, suddenly angry, and snatched his hand away.

Legolas climbed to his feet and moved away, his back to Elrond. "It's my life, too. Who else am I to turn to for counsel? None of my kin are here and he at least is another sylvan elf. He has been as a brother to me."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean you shouldn't confide in someone. Of course you should."

"This is not something I have any experience with, Elrond," Legolas' voice was trembling. "I was taught about the instinct for self-preservation but never about multiple bonds. I don’t think it’s very common. No doubt it’s a private thing between those involved and probably everyone thought I was too young to understand it. Lindir knows all about it; he's very old you know."

"Aye, I know," Elrond smiled and stood up, walking cautiously toward Legolas, afraid he might bolt and disappear amid the trees. Aye, you are so very young. "I hadn't thought of that, forgive me." He reached the Wood Elf and laid his hands upon the tense shoulders, kneading them firmly, relieved not to be shrugged off.

"I don't suppose there will be any ring for me now."

Could more misery be packed into such a simple sentence? "You no longer wish to formalise our bond?"

"I do wish it, but I thought you wouldn't allow it considering…" Legolas' words trailed into silence as he cast a speculative glance over his shoulder.

"Listen to me, Aearen, and set aside your cloak of agony for a moment." As he spoke Elrond turned Legolas around, and to his great relief the sylvan complied, blue eyes all aglitter with umbrage. "You are young and thus I understand how you came to such erroneous conclusions. My feelings haven't changed; I would have us be formally wed according to the customs of my people."

Legolas exhaled away his affronted dignity and some of the strain vanished from around his eyes. "What of Elladan and Elrohir?"

"They agree; the marriage ceremony should go forward."

"That isn't what I meant. If you permit me to bond with them, how can my bond to you be recognised?"

"That is between you and me and the One; no one else has any business knowing the particulars. The same may be said for the secondary bond with my sons. It is a private matter and need not be explained or even mentioned. Did you not say that such ties were unknown to you, even in Greenwood? It must be that the sylvan elves keep these unions secret to protect their hearts and the hearts of any children born of those bonds." It was if a thousand stars suddenly exploded in Elrond's mind as he said those words; until that instant the idea of Legolas bearing his sons' offspring had not presented itself. Would he do it? Valar, my mate could breed my grandchildren!

"Aye, 'tis true." Legolas saw the twitch in Elrond's frame, the strangely panicked gleam in the grey eyes, and frowned, not realising the thoughts he'd answered. "Yet what I feel for them is nothing at all like the feeling my heart holds for you. I don't love them; I'm not even sure I would like them as friends. I don't want you to think I'm a…" Legolas swallowed, "…a promiscuous whore."

"Aiya! I think that word has no translation into your language and you learned the concept here from my beloved citizens." Elrond was glad to have something else on which to focus. "I don't ever want to hear your lips form that ugly term again, understood?"

"Aye."

"Legolas, do not judge this situation by the skewed standards imposed by old Noldorin customs. Return to the teachings with which you were raised and if it helps, consider that not all bonds are grounded in emotion. Your romantic heart rejects the more practical aspects of courtship and marriage; that is to be expected. I have lived a long time and have observed many bonded couples; indeed, many of them asked me to officiate at the formal ceremony. Love is not always the primary ingredient in a union."

"But I do love you!"

"Ah, did I imply otherwise? Listen to me, Legolas. I am talking about the half-bond my sons created that day in Eregion all those years ago. I know you were helpless to stop it even as I know that you love me now. As far as my sons are concerned, even I can see how torn they must have been, wanting you and hating themselves for feeling that way. It is not a part of our culture, not part of our nature; we do not have a means of self-preservation such as Wood Elves do. Were one of my sons to fall wounded as you were, his twin could not save him, though he poured out all his love upon him."

Legolas' eyes widened in alarm. "That is incredibly sad and frightening. That means if something happens to you, no one can save you, not even me!" He reached up to clutch two handfuls of heavy velvet.

"Do not fear," Elrond murmured and kissed the brow all wrinkled with worry, rejoicing as Legolas melted against him, burying his face into the thick robes. With monumental relief he felt no physical evidence of his beloved's response to the twin's seduction. "I have no plans to go forth into battle any time soon and no desire to join Glorfindel's patrols. My resistance against the Shadow is of a different nature. You have chosen well in selecting a mate who is considered too important to expose to unnecessary risk."

Knowing this was supposed to be a joke, Legolas obliged by raising his face, complete with a wan and watery smile, pressing a quick kiss against the smirking lips before laying his cheek against the solid strength of the elven Lord's chest. The heart beneath his ear thudded with steadfast resolve. He began to dare hope the worst could be averted and the four of them could come to a resolution that spared harm to either couple.

"I'm glad you understand. I need them, but I don't want them. To be honest; it scares me more than a little. I've only been with you; what are they going to do, Elrond? Will it be the same? Will they both…"

"I don't know!" The Elven Lord's blood froze and he thought his heart would stop. He could not discuss that! He broke from Legolas and took several paces away. "Didn't you ask them? Maybe you should have sought Lindir's advice."

"You're angry," Legolas stared at the tall elegant form radiating the fury of a wronged lover. "All you've said; it's a lie. You can't accept this. Why did you pretend?" he demanded and immediately knew the answer. "It's the child. You fear the elfling will die."

"Yes!" Elrond returned to his young lover in a swirl of robes and ebony braids, clutching at Legolas' arms to stop him from fleeing, to make him hear. "I fear that and more. I can't stand to think of you with another, especially my sons! Maybe you will like them, perhaps even love them. I could lose you so easily and then what shall I do? You will have our babe and a pair of lovers to care for you and I will be left alone!"

"Nay, Elrond!"

"With everything I am I want to forbid this…this farce of a union." He was shouting now but didn't care when Legolas winced and tried to twist free. "Everything inside me says this is wrong! How can you expect me to accept it? You're mine…"

"You do not own me!" Legolas yelled back. "I had no choice in this but I am not a slave. Do you think this is what I imagined as my fate? Perhaps you believe this is how Wood Elves normally choose a mate?"

"Well, isn't it? A combat between the suitors and whoever gets his cock in first wins. I'm your mate by default, Legolas." It was a cruel thing to say and Elrond regretted it at once, for Legolas' breath left his lungs and all the strength left his body. He shut his eyes and sagged in Elrond's arms and together they dropped to sit heavily on the ground. "Legolas, Aearen, saes!" Elrond whispered, horrified that he'd really said that. "I don't know what I…Forgive me, please, do not heed those vicious words. Once more my pride and ignorance takes over. Fear and jealousy made me speak so; oh, how I wish I hadn't."

"It's what you really think, no need to ask forgiveness for being truthful for once. Better to have it clear." Legolas' voice was filled with bitterness. He longed to get away but found he hadn't the energy to move. "I've been such a fool."

"No, that isn't me, Aearen, I'm just so terrified I'll lose you. And you aren't foolish. I know you've tried to deny the feelings you have for…"

"These aren't feelings!" barked Legolas, straightening up. "I do not feel anything for them but dread. Valar! They hate me yet I am compelled to let them…" He couldn't even finish the thought out loud, flinching and shuddering at the same time. "Yet I can't turn to the one I love with these fears for you are offended, your dominance compromised, your precious position of authority and power threatened."

"Nae! That's not true; I can comfort you, beloved. Give me another chance; I won't fail you. Difficult as this is, I love you and will find a way to keep my jealousy in check." Elrond's eyes were wide in shock; he hadn't imagined this from Legolas' perspective at all, or rather, he'd imagined an entirely different scenario. Legolas wasn't looking forward to this encounter with excited anticipation but contemplating the act with terror, its possible consequences with dread. He drew Legolas against his chest, propping his chin upon the crown of golden strands, slowly caressing the tense, resistant spine.

Legolas said nothing; once burned, twice shy. He wasn't about to utter a single syllable on the subject again and was already visualising the journey to Mithlond, wondering if he could send word and ask his Naneth to meet him there, to see her one more time before he left forever. He wanted her to know about the child and Galbreth's rebirth. Would she heed the summons or bow to tradition and pretend he was dead? The idea overwhelmed him; he was so weary and needed to be loved yet now it was all too obvious he didn't warrant that gift. He crumpled up with a low moan and gave in to the sorrow.

Elrond's felt the quaking of suppressed sobs and wrapped his arms tight around Legolas, alarmed, squeezing hard and rocking him. Time for me to stop acting like a broken-hearted adolescent jilted by his first crush. Somehow he had to be strong for it was obvious Legolas could not be. No matter how much they both wished it this partial bond would not just vanish and could not be ignored without paying a heavy price.

"They will not do anything you don't want," he began quietly, a tremor in his voice, and he had to take a breath and swallow before he could go on. "Elladan and Elrohir don't hate you; they hate the fact that you came between them. They believed they would have to choose between you and the love they already share. Elrohir truly thought Elladan had made that decision and meant to leave him; Elladan felt guilty for almost giving in to forces he couldn't overpower. I think, from what they said to me, that with these obstacles removed they are very amenable to taking you into their bond." Still Legolas did not respond but the trembling ceased and his respiration became more normal; he was listening and Elrond thanked the Valar for it.

"My sons will not hurt you, that much I can promise, but beyond that I really don't know what they have planned. I believe they would rather have you direct them in this." Finally Legolas stirred as a soft sigh left him, but still he didn't speak. "I haven't any experience in such a situation either, nor do they, but I've a feeling my sons received instruction from our resident minstrel. Tell me more of what Lindir said," Elrond prompted softly and squeezed harder. "He must have given you some idea of what to expect."

"Aye, but it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not going to join with them."

"What?" Elrond sat up straight and held Legolas out from him, searching the defeated face worriedly. "You're thinking of leaving again. You must not do so unless you are comfortable with the idea of your mate ending up in Mandos while you languish in Estë's healing gardens.

"You must hear me now, Legolas. I give you my permission, not as someone who owns you but as your mate who loves you. This is going to take some adjustment in thought on my part but I swear I can achieve it. I will not suffer you to leave me, Aearen, nor permit you to grieve so sorely that you yearn for death. We can make this work, I promise. What say you?"

Legolas was silent for long minutes. Eventually he pulled from Elrond's hold, sidling over to the rim of the pool again, trailing his fingers into the gracefully cascading shower, recalling a happier day when he'd played in the spray of Elrond's fountain. "I want to believe that but I'm afraid. What if you can't change your mindset and never want to touch me again. I can't survive that and I must live for the child. I've no choice left but to go."

"And break your word? I refuse to be responsible for making you choose such a dishonourable option." Elrond followed him to the water's edge, sitting behind him, trapping him between his arms and legs, pressing his body against the resistant back. "You are brave and strong, a Wood Elf, this is natural for you. Far greater threats you have faced before. It will not be as you imagine, though I know my deplorable attitude gives you every reason to believe your fears will become reality.

"I can't pretend to be happy about this, nor can I promise not to feel saddened and even angry about it. I can promise not to burden you with blame for my emotions. It's my fault, really, for I should not have resisted the bonding all those years ago. I will work hard to prove that I can be a good mate to you, but you must not break your oath to me. I am your mate. I know now that I would have fallen in love with you no matter how we met, instinctive urge or not. I love you and our babe. We will raise him together."

"And your sons?" Legolas whispered, once more grasping at this hope, no matter how faint, for the love Elrond felt was in his voice and the fear of losing the object of that love evident in the strength of his clasping arms.

Elrond exhaled in relief; once more Legolas would permit him another chance. He kissed the bowed head again. "I will leave it to you. Where and how you add them into your life is your decision, as long as they don't move into our rooms."

"Varda forbid!" Legolas shivered in revulsion. He relaxed and let his head fall back against Elrond's shoulder, relishing the comfort of the gentle swaying motion he'd established, entwining his fingers in one of the elven Lord's hands where it was pressed against his ribs. For several minutes they remained quiet.

"When?" asked Elrond, the word barely a whisper of sound amid the pattering percussion of the falls.

"It must be soon for this tension is not healthy for me and the child. The celebration tonight lends itself to such things as you know."

In spite of himself Elrond flinched. "Tonight? I hoped there would be more time to get used to the idea. Am I to be there? I…I don't think I can watch."

Legolas turned enough to look into Elrond's eyes, worried about the lingering aversion such a notion evoked in his staid and proper lover. "I know this. I will be with you first, then them, and after…I want to be with you for the sunrise, if you will permit it."

He shifted until he was draped across Elrond's lap and then framed the noble, serious face with his hands, pulling the pensive mouth to meet his in a soft, placating kiss. He caressed each corner, nibbled the upper peaks and their dividing indentation, laved the lower lip with a tentative tongue tip, sucked in the red flesh. Finally Elrond kissed back, hard, yanking Legolas close in a bruising crush, invading his mouth and laying claim to every inch of its interior, pulling back to give a final bite to the bottom lip as Legolas gasped in a quick breath. Their eyes locked in searing communion.

"I want you now." Elrond wasn't sure what was driving his desire and had no wish to analyse it. He didn't care if this was jealous insecurity, a need for reassurance, a need to prove to them both that he was in control. Legolas was his; he would have him if he so wished. He initiated another ferocious kiss, registering Legolas' plaintive moan, fingers urgently working to unfasten the Wood Elf's leggings. This was not going to be a romantic encounter. To his amazement, Legolas broke the kiss and snatched away the hand digging at his crotch.

"And at dawn? Will you still want me then? Will you still love me, Elrond?" he demanded, voice low and brittle, his gleaming eyes full of both challenge and fear. He was a Wood Elf and all that was happening to them was due to that simple fact, yet he would not be ashamed of what he was, nor would he abide that reaction from his mate.

The intensity in the blue gaze sobered Elrond immediately. He stopped and looked at Legolas clearly, acknowledging him thoroughly, searching his innermost heart for the answer to that question. He truly didn't want to share his Wood Elf with anyone yet he would lose him and the child if he insisted on monogamy. Could he love this sylvan archer without reservation, accepting every unique aspect of his nature? No, he deserves to be cherished rather than granted a grudging acceptance. Can I love him, as he is, what he is, without secretly hoping to change him and scorning what cannot be altered?

In rapid succession there passed before his mind's eye highlights of their many days together, all those things he had recounted to Legolas that endeared the sylvan to him, culminating in the memory of the absolute joy in Legolas' eyes when Elrond had finally asked him to formalise their union. It was as Lindir said; the bond of their souls had been forced upon the archer but the love he offered Elrond was his choice. He loved Elrond without reservation, caring not about the current wife in Aman, the scorn of her family in Imladris and Lorien, or the disdain of the valley's citizens.

The strength of Legolas' devotion superseded all: grief, guilt, homesickness, and fear. Even if Elrond rejected him Legolas would still love him; indeed, the woodland warrior had ample reason to despise the Lord of Imladris but chose instead to forgive, again and again. No one had ever loved Elrond so intensely, so completely. Suddenly the question wasn't so difficult and his countenance brightened in a jubilant smile as he drew Legolas back against his chest warmly.

"Yes, Aearen, I will love you at tomorrow's dawn and every other until Arda is no more."

He made love to Legolas gently then, passionately, devotedly, all thoughts of dominance, control, and possession drowned in the depths of their abiding bond.

TBC

miscanthus: Thank you! I'm pleased this is still holding your interest.


Nikkiling: Ah, I was able to surprise you, that is great! Oh, yes, this chapter shows how angst-y this might get. Ahhhhh! I am so happy to see you mention that. So far you are the second who has noticed. Interesting, no? Much thanks, mellonen!


Radol an Estel: Finding a Way towards Trust

Rhosshîr: Rustling Stream

Lanthir Fâ'n: waterfall veil

Lim-dalu Aur: Flat-fish Morning

Mereth od Ened Ethuil: The Celebration of Mid-Spring

Naneth Nastaron: mother f-er

Pethron: narrator

Kwingarô nethrâ: Archer youthful - from a VERY ancient form of elvish

Ech Vrassen: White-hot Spear - lightning

elenille: little stars - sparks - from ancient elvish forms

Ernil o Gladgalan: Prince of Greenwood

Ceryn o Cabor: frog's balls

Minnon?: May I enter?

Lilta Nár: Fire Dance

Cundithen: Little Prince

Tawaro: spirit of the woods, dryad

Padathron Dalt: snail or slug - Slipping Walker

Tulus Iaur: Ancient Poplar

Pen Vrûn: Old One

GLOSSARY

NOTE: It should be clear how difficult this is for our troubled lovers. Neither one wants this situation yet the only alternative is separation. Elrond wants to do the right thing, Legolas wants so desperately to believe he can, but this is really very sticky, isn't it? The Noldorin elves have some very rigid ideas about marriage and if you doubt that check out what Tolkien had to say on the subject regarding these laws and customs here. OK, here's where we all remember this is AU (it's an mpreg, after all) but even if it weren't, these customs were attributed to the Noldorin elves. Nothing mentioned about the elves of Mirkwood, of whom we know so little, really, and who had dwelled as a closed society until the Second Age, and then Oropher and his folk became absorbed into that culture. Certainly some Sindarin traditions must have been incorporated, but Tolkien tells us next to nothing on their customs, either. So, it should be obvious my idea of sylvan customs is very different. Well, maybe there is a way for our two couples to work it out.

Remember back in the third chapter or so when Lindir's sylvan heritage was revealed? It had to be so, for without him to explain things to Elrond and his sons, how would they get through any of this without disowning each other or worse? Lindir is trying very hard to keep this from becoming a catastrophe, for we all know Legolas is the one who would suffer most and no doubt the unborn child would be lost. We all want to see this little one born, don't we? So I will not keep you worrying; there will be a happy ending to all this turmoil. Once we get past these next few gruelling chapters things will improve and we can all smile and have fun as the Wood Elves show up with their own set of customs and predetermined prejudices regarding home, family ties, and those prone-to-kinslaying Noldorin elves.

© 09/29/2007 Ellen Robey