Mending a Heart and the Tie that Binds

Ch. 15: Fallen Warrior


“Legolas? What are you saying?” Elladan asked, concerned. He rushed to the prince’s side and helped him to sit down.

“Why do you think I have been so resistant about telling my father about my dreams?” Legolas asked weakly. “Did it not occur to you that there might be more to what was happening to me? Did it ever occur to you that… that I may not want to tell you…” the prince’s voice trailed off suddenly.

“Legolas… I had no idea…” Elladan said, holding him in his arms. “But you are not dying. What would ever make you think of such a thing?” He tried to sound positive, but he couldn’t ignore the knot that had formed in his stomach.

Legolas pulled away from Elladan and stood up. He leaned against the tree for support and looked down at Elladan. “When I came to Rivendell for the first time, I was very ill. After my mother died… my heart was in ruins. I did not think I would survive… neither did my father. That is why he sent me here in the first place, so I could heal. Have you forgotten about the dreams I had then? Do you not remember that I almost killed you after a particularly vicious nightmare?”

“That wasn’t you,” Elladan said, grinning. “If you remember, it was the fell beast, Orcwen, who attacked me that night. Look, she is back to her ill-fated ways again.” Elladan pointed to the welt on his face from where Arwen had struck him earlier.

Legolas did not laugh. He forced a faint smile and looked into the distance.

Elladan rose to his feet. He brushed a stray lock of hair from the prince’s brow.

“This time is not like the last time,” Legolas said softly. “It is worse… much worse. My dreams do not make sense. They are violent and frightening. And the marks they leave behind… they are the marks of death. I never really healed before, did I? My love for you only concealed the truth… it masked the disease. I did not want to tell my father… or you… for fear that speaking the words aloud would make death come on swifter wings.”

“Legolas, you are a warrior. You never accepted defeat in life and you will not do so in death. And you will not be alone. Please, speak to your father about this tomorrow morn. Then, tell my father. They will help you. You shall not endure this without help.” Elladan moved behind the prince and wrapped his arms around Legolas’ waist, holding him tight. “Do you trust me?”

“Aye,” Legolas said softly.

“Then we shall speak to both of our fathers tomorrow morn.”

Legolas nodded and leaned closer into his lover’s embrace.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elladan did not sleep. He simply held Legolas in his arms and prayed for the light of day. He had to believe that the prince could be saved, and he knew that if anyone was capable of healing Legolas, it was his father.

When the first rays of light peaked over the mountains in the distance, Elladan felt relieved. He knew the prince was in for a difficult day, but he also believed that telling the king was for the best. He waited until the sun crested over the mountain before rousing the prince.

Legolas stirred and Elladan couldn’t help but smile. The prince’s pouty expression made him look not a day over the age of one hundred.

“Legolas… Legolas, it is morning,” Elladan said gently.

The prince rubbed his eyes and sat up. He looked at Elladan and smiled. “Good morning, my Elladan.”

“Good morn, Greenleaf.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did not sleep at all,” Elladan said.

Legolas looked at his lover, concerned. “Why not?”

“I’m afraid my concern for you disallowed me to rest. But we will both get some much needed answers today.”

“Ah, yes,” the prince murmured, “I had almost forgotten…”

“I am sorry,” Elladan said sincerely. “I just need to know what is happening to you and how it can be stopped.”

“I am not certain that it will be as simple as you think,” Legolas said. “But the time has come for me to speak to my father… even though I still do not want to.”

“Stubborn to the end, eh, Prince?” Elladan asked in a teasing tone.

Legolas chuckled and pulled Elladan into his arms. “Thank you for being with me through all of this. I admit… I have been quite…”

“Quite?”

“Scared,” Legolas said after some hesitation. “That is weak of me, isn’t it?”

“Nay,” Elladan said. “I know you well, and I am certain that you have rarely used that word. Besides, anyone who can face the likes of Orcwen and live to tell the tale…”

Legolas laughed. “I love you, Elladan.”

Elladan smiled and nuzzled Legolas’ nose with his own. “I love you, my Greenleaf.” He helped the prince to stand and embraced him. Their lips met in a slow tender kiss that lingered on and on. Their mouths would part and then join again as though kissing was the basis for their survival.

Little did they know, they were being watched.

Glorfindel, who had gone for an early morning walk was stunned when he encountered the young lovers. He felt like an intruder, witnessing this private moment between Elladan and Legolas. However, the way they kissed and how much they loved each other made the elder curious about their relationship. Thus, he watched them quite blatantly.

The young lovers pulled away from one another at long last. Legolas allowed his knuckles to slide down Elladan’s face in a gentle caress.

Elladan responded by turning his head slightly and kissing the prince’s hand tenderly. He grasped Legolas’ hand and held it for a few moments as the two lovers gazed into one another’s eyes.

Glorfindel was rooted to the spot. He was surprised that Elladan could be affectionate. The Elladan he knew was humorous at times, but more often than not a simpleton. But he saw a different side of Elrond’s eldest twin here in the woods and realized that Elladan was truly in love with the young prince of Mirkwood.

Although the lovers did not sense him, he was very aware of his own surroundings and saw a golden haired elf, in the distance, heading in their direction; it was Haldir. He had sensed the animosity between Haldir and Elladan in the past and knew that a confrontation could be quite ugly, especially if Haldir was as forlorn this day as he had been the previous day. Without hesitation, he quietly pulled himself away from the embracing lovers and struck out to intercept the Lórien marchwarden.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Good morning, Haldir.”

“Ai!” Haldir shrieked, looking around wildly. “Glorfindel,” he said, panting and shaking his head. “You nearly frightened me to death. My heart is pounding so fiercely that I fear it will explode out of my chest.”

“I apologize,” Glorfindel said sincerely. “I did not mean to startle you. I…” Glorfindel tried to think of something to say that would prevent Haldir from journeying further up the hillside. “I… wanted to invite you to my home. There is something I want to show you.”

Haldir stared at Glorfindel in disbelief. “You… want… me… to come… to… your… home?”

“Yes… I… do,” Glorfindel said lightheartedly.

Haldir chuckled and smiled brightly. “I would love to.”

“It is very nearby, follow me.”

Haldir floated behind Glorfindel. He couldn’t believe he was going to Glorfindel’s house. He always assumed that Glorfindel lived in the manor, but it suddenly occurred to him that Glorfindel probably only had a room in Elrond’s manor. An elf as old and wise as Glorfindel would want a place of his own.

Haldir had no idea why Glorfindel had invited him to his home and wondered if the sudden invitation had to do with their encounter in the woods the previous day. He felt a bit embarrassed by his behavior but decided to push any unpleasant thoughts out of his mind.

He was pleasantly surprised when Glorfindel approached a small residence that was nestled against the mountainside. It was beautiful. Lush foliage surrounded the house protectively, making the spot very private. Flowers of every kind littered the small yard and large, stunning trees beckoned the unsuspecting guest.

Glorfindel opened the front door and politely ushered the marchwarden inside.

Haldir stepped into what could only be called a modest cottage and was surprised by its cozy surroundings. The multi-room home had a large fireplace, dozens of windows, which were ornamented with delicate, cream-colored scarves. The floor was wooden and mirrored the deep oak colored furniture. Glorfindel’s home was anything but sparse. Instead, it was comfortable and inviting. Haldir found himself mesmerized by its humble beauty and realized that Glorfindel’s home mirrored him perfectly. It shied away from glory but harnessed a silent splendor that few took the time to notice. Haldir inhaled deeply and felt his heart swell in his chest. Glorfindel’s home even smelled good. He couldn’t help but wonder if its mild earthy smell came from the various plants that littered the house or if the smell emanated from Glorfindel himself.

Glorfindel cleared his throat and shifted a bit uneasily. He wasn’t used to having strangers in his home and suddenly felt uncomfortable with Haldir’s apparent scrutiny.

Haldir smiled. “Your home is lovely. It is even better that I imagined it.”
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow, at the idea that Haldir had imagined his house before and wondered briefly at what else the young elf had imagined about him.

Haldir’s face reddened and he looked around the room in embarrassment.

On cue, Glorfindel changed the subject. “Well, as I said earlier, I would like to show you something.”

“Yes…” Haldir said abruptly, the shade of his face deepening.

“Come with me,” Glorfindel said, pretending not to notice Haldir’s lingering shame.

Haldir followed Glorfindel through the living room and into a larger chamber that was adjacent to it. The young marchwarden gasped audibly when he beheld the countless tomes that had seemingly been so carefully placed on countless bookshelves that lined the perimeter of the entire room. A large wooden table sat in the center of the room, flanked by comfortable looking chairs on each side. A few open books were on the table and Haldir couldn’t resist the urge to see what the elder had been reading. He picked the book up and smiled when he read its title, “The Wayward Ones.”

“It is quite good,” Glorfindel said, interrupting Haldir’s thoughts. “I have yet to finish it, but plan to within the next week or so.”

“You will love the ending,” Haldir said, placing the book back on the table.

“You have read it?” Glorfindel asked, mildly surprised.

“Aye,” Haldir said, nodding. “I love to read. Methinks my head is probably full of too much nonsense from reading, but I find such a freedom in the pages of a good tome. I can escape and become Dunbar in “The Wayward Ones” and fight pirates and creatures of shadow with no fear. I can do anything… be anything… I am not alone when I read.”

Glorfindel wasn’t sure if it was the lighting in the room or Haldir’s passion for reading that charmed him so, but he had never noticed how handsome Haldir really was. He stared at the young warrior’s sturdy looking form—his taut thighs, muscular arms and masculine face. He looked down again and found his eyes lingering on Haldir’s bandaged hands. He wondered what had distressed the young marchwarden the day before, but decided that it was none of his concern. He raised his head and met the young warrior’s eyes, and for a moment his heart caught in his chest. *What is wrong with me?*

Haldir’s face reddened again and he shook his head. He had mistaken Glorfindel’s probing look and the long silence between them for disapproval. “I… I… am sorry, Glorfindel. You have invited me into your home to show me something and I prattle on and on about foolishness. Please… do not hold my tongue against me, for I know not what I say when you are near.” Haldir almost choked on those last words and shook his head in dismay as soon as he had uttered them. He was certain that Glorfindel would ask him to leave.

Glorfindel smiled sincerely. “Do not fret, Haldir. All is well. I suppose I am a bit amazed to meet someone who loves books as much… if not more than I.”

Haldir felt his concern vanish as he sighed with relief.

Glorfindel walked over to one of his bookshelves and grasped a large book. Cradling it in his hands for a moment, he handed it to Haldir.

Haldir read the title and smiled brightly. It was his favorite book titled, “Adventure of an Elvish Rogue.”

“You have read it,” Glorfindel said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Yes,” Haldir said. “I have read it so many times, in fact, that the title has worn off my copy.”

Glorfindel smiled. “I know, you dropped this in the forest yesterday.” He handed Haldir the book that had fallen from his robes the day before.

Haldir took his book from Glorfindel. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

“It was a gift… from my father,” Haldir said, caressing the cover of the book. “It was the greatest gift I have ever gotten.”

Glorfindel nodded and smiled once again.

Haldir placed the book in a pocket in his tunic and turned his attention to the copy Glorfindel had given to him.

“Open it.”

Haldir stared at the elder for a moment and opened the book. On the first page was a beautiful illustration of the main character, Llew, and his trusty stallion. Mesmerized, Haldir turned to the next page and found another illustration as well as the text on the opposite page. “It… it is beautiful.”

“Aye,” Glorfindel said. “I acquired it many years ago from the very elf who wrote it.”

“You knew Samlar Leaflin?” Haldir asked amazed.

“Aye,” Glorfindel responded.

Haldir stared at the book for a long time and then placed it back on the table.

“You may borrow it if you’d like,” Glorfindel said.

“Nay,” Haldir said. “I would no sooner borrow Lord Celeborn’s sword than to take such a precious item from this house.”

“Well, then… perhaps we can look at it together,” Glorfindel heard himself saying.

Haldir smiled shyly and nodded. “I would like that.”

Glorfindel beckoned Haldir back into the living room and encouraged him to sit.

Haldir made himself comfortable on a large moss colored armchair and began pouring through the book. He didn’t realize that Glorfindel had left the room until he returned with a flask of spiced cider and two chalices.

Haldir accepted the drink and pointed to a particular picture in the book. “This is my favorite part,” he said grinning. “I was so inspired by Llew’s attempt to learn the ancient art of the Mock-Na that I begged my father to teach me. Not only did I learn the Mock-Na but I also learned Karthal.”

Glorfindel stared at Haldir, momentarily speechless. “You… you know the Mock-Na and the Karthal?”

“Aye.”

“But those are very ancient fighting techniques. Who did you say taught you?”

“My father. He was a Mock-Na master. My mother taught me Karthal. She actually learned the technique from Thalion himself.”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened. “The last Mock-Na master I knew was Cirian of Lórien. Was… was Cirian your father?”

“Aye,” Haldir said.

“And your mother was Nurielle?”

“Aye,” Haldir said, taken aback by the awestruck expression on the elder’s face. “Did you know my parents?”

“Aye. I fought beside them in a great battle, many years ago. They were excellent warriors, possessing integrity and character that is rarely seen these days.”

Haldir smiled. “They were wonderful parents. I learned all I could from them before the end…”

“They would be proud of you,” Glorfindel said. “You have honored them with your rank and poise. After all, anyone who can resist killing Elladan on daily basis must possess a deep, inner strength.”

Haldir laughed, as did Glorfindel, which slowly collapsed the walls of loneliness they had felt for so long.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As usual, Thranduil decided that he was not in the mood for the morning meal. Normally, he would have joined Celeborn, Glorfindel and Elrond for some early morning conversation, a brisk walk and maybe a glass of warm cider. Today, however, he only wanted one thing… peace. Even though he had forgiven Celeborn for his hasty judgment and harsh words, the confrontation stung, nonetheless. He was especially cross with Elrond and did not want to face his feelings of lust-hate for a while. He wondered why relationships always had to be so complex. He walked out onto the terrace that led from his bedchamber and inhaled sharply; he wasn’t alone. He turned around and bowed, as it was proper for a king to address a Lady this way. “Hello, Arwen.”

“Hello, Sire,” Arwen said, curtseying. “May I have a word with you?”

“Aye,” Thranduil said, “but not here in my bedchamber. Our unconventional choice of meeting places has already put us both in quite a predicament.”

“Oh, you are quite right,” Arwen said, blushing. “Can I meet you in my father’s healing room? He is not there right now and I would like to speak to you alone.”

“Very well,” Thranduil said. He walked to the doorway and bowed his head as Arwen exited. He followed behind her from the Mirkwood guesthouse to Elrond’s manor and tried to ignore the stares and whispers that followed them wherever they went.

Once inside the healing chamber Arwen turned to face the king. “I shan’t keep you long, Sire. I only wanted to apologize to you for the behavior of my father and grandfather yesterday.”

“That is most kind of you, Arwen, but you cannot control the actions of others,” Thranduil said warmly.

“Then perhaps you will accept my apology as well,” Arwen said, casting her eyes downward.

“**Your** apology?” Thranduil asked in incredulity. “Why would you apologize to me?”

“Because I am partially to blame for what occurred yesterday,” Arwen said slowly.

“Indeed?” Thranduil said in disbelief. “And what pray tell could you have done to facilitate such malicious lies?”

“When my brothers asked me about the nature of our relationship… I did not tell them the truth. I did not tell them anything at all. In fact, by not telling them anything… I misled them. That is why my father and grandfather attacked you. If I had only told Elladan and Elrohir the whole truth, no ill would have befallen you.”

Thranduil laughed politely. “What a kind princess you are. In my eyes, you have done nothing wrong. If it will make you feel better, however, I accept your apology.” The king cupped Arwen’s chin and raised her head slowly until their eyes met. “If you did not tell the whole truth to Elladan and Elrohir, I assume it is because they harangued you mercilessly. Am I right?”

“Aye, Milord.”

“And I am certain that you did not take your brothers’ cheek too kindly.”

“Nay, I did not.”

“And, knowing you the way I do, I am certain you did not accept your brothers’ folly.”

“Nay. I became so angry that I slapped Elladan… quite hard, actually.”

Thranduil laughed. “Methinks you should reconsider your placement in this family as a Lady of Rivendell and join the ranks of Mirkwood.”

Arwen laughed. “Thank you, Milord.”

“For what?”

“For understanding.”

Thranduil smiled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas and Elladan entered Elrond’s manor. They had already searched for the king in vain in the Mirkwood guesthouse. Luckily, a servant told them that he saw King Thranduil heading toward the House of Elrond a bit earlier. So, the two warriors made their way around the large estate together.

Legolas’ heart was pounding in his chest. He did not want to do this. There was a part of him that still believed that telling his father was a mistake. On the other hand, he wondered if telling his father about the dreams would lighten his burden somehow. As he and Elladan trudged along corridor after corridor, these conflicting thoughts made the prince more nervous than ever.

“There he is,” Elladan said, interrupting Legolas’ thoughts.

The king had just emerged from Elrond’s healing chamber.

“Father,” Legolas heard himself say.

The king turned around. “Yes?”

“Father… I… I … that is to say… may I speak with you for a moment?” Legolas stammered.

“Of course,” Thranduil responded. He ushered his son and Elladan into Elrond’s healing chamber, since it was the closest available room and turned to face them. Something was wrong.

“Father… I…” Legolas began slowly, staring at the floor. He sighed deeply and looked up, meeting his father’s eyes.

“Legolas!” Thranduil exclaimed, alarmed. “What ill has befallen you? Your skin is a pallid as a cloudy day.”

“My nightmares have returned,” the prince responded quietly. “And they are worse this time than they were before.”

“Say no more,” Thranduil interrupted, raising his hand to silence the prince. The king rushed out of the chamber, leaving Elladan and Legolas alone.

“What just happened?” Elladan asked in dismay. “Certainly, the king didn’t just walk away from this.”

Legolas didn’t respond. He leaned against a nearby wall for support and rubbed his right temple. His head was throbbing and he felt quite dizzy.

“Legolas? Legolas, are you alright?”

The prince started to respond but was stopped short when his father, Elrond and Lord Celeborn entered the room.

“Legolas, please tell Elrond what you told me. And do not leave out any details,” Thranduil instructed hastily.

Legolas nodded and met Elrond’s eyes. “My nightmares have returned… but they are much worse than they were when I stayed in Rivendell before.”

“How so?” Elrond asked, approaching the prince.

“My dreams… they are… violent.”

“Violent?”

“Aye,” Legolas said. “And when I awaken from them my body is battered. Once… I was even bleeding…”

Elrond frowned. “Is there anything else?”

The prince hesitated but Elladan decided to interject something that Legolas had left out of the conversation.

“Legolas, tell my father about your vision. Tell him about Haldir… and the wolves.”

Elrond averted his gaze from his son back to the prince’s ashen face.

“I… I…”

“Yes?”

“I had a vision yesterday. Only… it was very similar to one of my dreams,” Legolas explained slowly. “I saw Haldir… he was walking in the woods when a tree was struck by lightening. A large limb fell down upon him, nearly splitting his body in two. And then… it happened… my waking dream began to unfold right before my eyes.”

“Haldir almost died?” Celeborn asked in distress.

“Aye,” Elladan said. “If Legolas had not pushed Haldir out of the way, he would be dead.”

Celeborn’s concern seemed to heighten. He placed his hand over his heart in a gesture of great alarm.

“It would seem that these dreams are affecting Legolas’ gift as well,” Elladan added.

“Indeed?” Elrond asked, his eyes widening. “How so?”

“My power has increased,” Legolas said slowly. “I can hear animals from farther away than before and last night I accidentally called a pack of wolves to me.”

Thranduil made an unintelligible sound of alarm but did not speak. He simply stared at Legolas with an odd look of disappointment and sadness on his face.

Legolas met his father’s eyes for a moment and hung his head in shame.

Elladan, seeing Legolas’ actions, glared at Thranduil angrily. He couldn’t believe the king’s behavior, especially after all Legolas had been through.

Elrond did not seem to take any notice of the tension in the room and cupped the prince’s chin gently. He looked deeply into Legolas’ orbs. “Yours are the eyes of a slain warrior. Tell me, what are your nightmares about? Try to remember what you see when you dream. Then, describe your feelings about what you see.”

Legolas nodded and tried to think back to his most recent nightmare. He thought about the night that he and his brothers had been punished and were disallowed from attending the opening ceremony. His mind seemed to race and in no time he was facing a large orc-like creature. The beast crouched, poised ready to strike him. His fangs were bared and drool dripped off of them into a pool of saliva on the floor. Legolas could smell the stench of the creature – rancid meat mingled with blood and sweat. He reached slowly for his hidden dagger, which he usually kept tucked away beneath his tunic, but it wasn’t there. He knelt slowly to try and see if he had brought his boot knife with him, but quickly discovered that moving a second time was a mistake. The orc lunged at him, knocking him on the hard floor.

The prince scrambled to his feet, looking for a weapon, any weapon, but to no avail.

The orc punched Legolas in the ribs, causing the prince to groan from the pain and force of the blow. The orc hit him again, but this time in the stomach.

Legolas felt his head begin to spin, as he fell to the ground.

“Legolas!”

When the prince heard his name, he stood up abruptly. He decided then and there that he would not die without a fight. He grasped the orc around the neck and tried to strangle it, but the creature’s strength proved too great for the already weakened warrior.

The beast shook loose from the prince’s hold and struck him in the face.

Legolas fell to the ground with a loud thud. He could taste his blood. He knew that his life had come to an end, and there was nothing he could do about it. He watched in terror as the creature hovered above him, staring into his eyes. He lay transfixed, staring into the creature’s bulging orbs. There, in the reflection of the orcs eyes, the prince saw Elladan and Elrohir. They were in a great battle.

The creature blinked and a new picture formed in the orc-beast’s eyes.

Legolas saw Elrohir weeping hysterically, cradling an unknown, slain elf in his arms. The form almost looked like… but his thought was interrupted when the orc struck for the last time.

The creature slashed the prince across the neck with his long, razor-sharp claws.

The prince watched the image of Elrohir and the fallen warrior fade away as he fell into darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elrond, Elladan, Celeborn and Thranduil watched in horror as Legolas writhed on the ground. It was clear that he was suffering from some sort of attack, but by whom and why?

When the prince’s invisible attacker finally released him, Legolas was so badly battered that Elrond wondered if he would survive.

“Legolas?” Elladan said, unable to hide the emotion in his voice. He walked toward the unconscious prince and tried to rouse him.

“Nay,” Elrond said abruptly. “Leave him be. I want to examine him while he is unawares.”

“But… Father,” Elladan tried to protest.

“There is no time!” Elrond exclaimed. “Celeborn? Thranduil? Did you bring healers from your realms for the competition?”

“Aye,” Celeborn responded.

The king stared at Legolas with a horrified expression on his face. He acted as though no one else was in the room.

“Thranduil!” Elrond exclaimed.

“Aye?”

“Thranduil, did you bring…”

“I… I did,” Thranduil answered absently. “Her name is Cylene.”

“Good,” Elrond said. “Both of you fetch them, now. And make haste. The young prince’s life may depend on it.”

---

TBC…