The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Ion nín – my son
Ada - father
Uma – yes
Peredhel – half-Elf

Chapter 17

It took us many days to return to Mirkwood. We rode hard, pushing to reach home as quickly as possible. I would have delayed if I could have, for I was dreading the confrontation I would undoubtedly have with my father, but my escort had been away as long as I had, without the comfort I had gained from Arwen’s presence. They were eager to be home and I could not deny them.

I was tempted to break the seal and read Elrond’s letter to my father, if only to know what tone he had taken. I could guess the contents, but I did not know what else he had said. Had he simply stated the facts? Or had he attempted to convince my father to keep us apart? I did not think that Elrond could persuade my father that way. The two of them had not been on friendly terms the last few centuries, but I honestly did not know what my father might do if he was angry enough. Knowing what Elrond had written, and how, would help me counter my father’s temper if it came to that. Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out how to explain the broken seal so I spent the weeks of travel trying to imagine every scenario and ways to deal with each.

We arrived to find the situation much as it had been when we left. Orcs and spiders attacked. My father’s soldiers fought back. I knew it would be only a matter of days before I was back on the borders again, helping to defend my home. First, though, I had to face my father and whatever consequences there would be for my actions.

He was waiting for me when we arrived at the palace. My father was not usually very demonstrative, but he pulled me into his arms as soon as I dismounted, obviously glad to see me.

“Ion nín,” he murmured against my hair as he held me tight. Then he stepped back and looked at me critically. “You are looking better.”

“I am better, Ada. Lord Elrond and his healers took good care of me.” Arwen often worked with the healers and she had taken very good care of me.

“You were gone a long time. I was worried,” he said.

“I sent you a message. Did you not receive it?” I asked, suddenly concerned that he had worried about me far longer than necessary.

“I received it, but it is not the same as seeing you well.”

“Lord Elrond did not want me to leave until he was sure that I had recovered my strength. I trained with the guards in Imladris until Lord Glorfindel deemed me fit again. I stayed a few extra days to celebrate the Lady Arwen’s birt.” .” I thought I heard a snicker behind me, but if I did, my father did not, so I did not react to it. No need to add fuel to the fire unnecessarily.

“You will want to bathe before dinner,” my father commented, taking in my travel-stained clothes.

“Uma,” I responded fervently, “but I should give you this before I go in. It is a letter from Lord Elrond.” I handed him the missive Elrond had given me and returned to my rooms to bathe and prepare for dinner. I had just finished my bath when a servant tapped on my door.

“Prince Legolas, the King wants to see you in his chambers as soon as possible,” the servant said, sounding nervous. Ai, Elbereth, I thought, that does not sound good. I finished dressing and went to my father’s rooms.

He bade me enter when I knocked at the door.

As I feared, Elrond’s letter was in his hand and a distraught look was on his face. “Do you know what that fool of a Peredhel had the gall to tell me?” he asked.

“N’uma, Ada,” I replied. “He did not have me read it before he sealed it.” I could guess exactly what was in the letter, especially given my father’s reactions to it, but I was not going to make my situation worse by telling my father that.

My father sent me a reproachful look. “Do not play word games with me, Legolas. The Peredhel says you are in love with his daughter and that, without her at your side, you cannot heal from injuries normally. Is this true?”

I considered my answer carefully. Finally, I said, “Uma, I love Arwen.”

“Fool!” he shouted. His words cut deep, but his tone even deeper. “Ada,” I pleaded.

“And the rest?” he asked, deaf to my pleas. “Has she turned you into such a weakling that you cannot even heal yourself?” His scorn was obvious in the tone of his voice. I had hoped that he would accept my situation, that he would see that I suffered already and comfort me. Instead, he seemed intent only on adding to my pain.

“I do not know, Ada.” Though I suspected Elrond was right about my situation, confirming it in my father’s state of mind would not have solved anything.

“What good are you to me as a captain if you cannot recover from any injury you receive?” my father exploded.

“Ada,” I begged, “it is not as bad as that. I trained with Glorfindel while in Imladris. I am unlikely to be wounded.”

“Unlikely is not good enough. I need captains I can send into dangerous situations without worrying about them. I was relying on you. You were supposed to take my place. Instead you have forfeited that place for an Elf, a half-Elf! you cannot even have. You are useless. Get out!”

“Be angry at me, Ada. Say anything you want to me. But leave Arwen’s name out of this. If there is fault, it is mine, not hers and I will not let you insult her because I have disappointed you.”

I had never before dared to speak back to my father. Few ever did.

“Leave!” he repeated. The heat was suddenly gone from his voice. In its place was an icy coldness I had never heard before, in any circumstances. That tone made me understand the seriousness of the situation. I could usually get around my father in a temper, but this was different. This was real.

I forced myself to walk out of his chambers at a normal pace, not to flee as I wanted to. I maintained the appearance of control until I reached my own rooms. Then I collapsed on the bed, fighting tears. My father and I did not always agree, especially where the Imladris Elves were concerned, but we had always found ways around those disagreements.

This was different. I had never seen my father so angry, never heard such hateful words. What was so precious to me was anathema to him. I had spent two months marveling at how much joy Arwen brought to my life. My father had just taken it all away. He no longer wanted me in Mirkwood. That thought was enough to release the tears that threatened. He no longer wanted me.

I would have to leave, beg refuge in Imladris or in Lórien. Celebrian had said I would be welcome there, but I doubted she meant welcome on a permanent basis. That left Lórien. Haldir could vouch for my skills as an archer. Perhaps he could convince Lord Celeborn to let me join the wardens there. At least I would be able to see Arwen when she visited her grandparents.

I forced myself off the bed. I looked around the room, trying to decide what to take with me. I would have to take everything that I truly wanted to keep because I was not sure it would still be here if I left it. My clothes could be replaced, indeed would have to be, with the colors of Lórien, so I could leave those. Celeborn’s library was rumored to be almost as extensive as Elrond’s, so I could probably leave my books and scrolls. All I really needed to take were the mementoes of childhood that were so precious now. My first bow. The clip my mother wore in her hair. The ring my father had given her when they bonded and that she had given me before she sailed for Valinor. The painting of my grandfather. I gathered these things, crying harder as they reminded me of all the good times I had shared with my family. I would take them with me to help me remember a time when I was loved. I had agonized over many possible futures in Imladris when I was trying to decide whether to tell Arwen of my feelings. I knew that the price of speaking would be banishment. I did not know it would also be the price of my silence.