True Bow (Cuthenin)

Cuthenin (True-Bow)
by F.E.Morton
UnBeta'd

Disclaimer: just borrowing, the characters and settings are Tolkien's, the words here are mine. No money earned.

thoughts
(elvish translations)

NOTE: Here is another update! This chapter offers more dialogue between Thranduil and his youngest, for there are many unresolved issues between them yet. Glorfindel faces Cuthenin's family next and we shall learn how the brothers became so protective of a sibling they initially detested and how it is that everyone in the immediate family seems to know Legolas' problem but thinks no one else does, thus keeping silent out of fear to expose him to ridicule or worse. Thanks to one and all for your patience and continued support!
Cheers,
Fred
08/26/2006

Toloth-ar-Pae Peth: Remmin Tîw (Part Eighteen: Mixed Messages)

The foot paths and branch ways radiating outward from the arboreal city surrounding Orod Im'elaidh (Mountain amid the Trees) were empty and silent. So quiet that the soundless tread of elven footfalls thudded in noisy counterpoint, one set lighter, shorter in stride, and unshod, the other forceful, rapid, and booted in sturdy gear meant to withstand the rigours of a long campaign over harsh terrain. The King and his last-born child walked away from Calenhad (Green-space) and the subdued revelry of the subjects of the realm as Mereth-en-Maethyr'wann (Feast of the Dead Warriors) progressed.

Music filtered through the air like a fine mist rising over a river at dawn, eerie and melancholy but equally fair and defiant, building in rhythm so gradually that when finally the pyrrhic tempo was achieved the Wood Elves would be jolted in surprise though this type of gathering was much too commonplace in the darkening forest. They would dance then, pouring the pent energy of their sorrow and anger and fear into the synchronised steps, the terpsichorean movements reminiscent of battle, infused with the tumult of their unceasing and violent struggle to live, free and unfettered by evil's subjugation.

Though the two Elves retreated steadily from it, the music followed, injecting something of its agitation and strife into subconscious awareness so that they stepped in time with the dirge and felt the passionate turmoil of the frenzied ballet beginning behind them.

Thranduil looked at Legolas, the incarnation of Lhoss' hindered and hidden love, and permitted his mind the distraction of admiring the refined lines of the profile, marvelling at the sturdy strength of the archer's shoulders beneath his arm's easy embrace, appreciating anew the unique combination of durable vigour and gossamer elegance contained within Cuthenin's compactly lissome frame. Everything about him recalled the House of the Swallows and few in Greenwood could fail to see this. It was difficult to find any hint of Oropher's hardy bloodlines in Legolas outward form yet incongruously impossible to envision him belonging to any other family. Few in the Woodland Realm would question that, either. The King tried to recall when during Legolas' short life that had come about, for it certainly had not been so at the beginning.

With vivid acuity, Thranduil relived the first time he had held his son, the babe so tiny he was barely large enough to require two hands and so frail he lacked sufficient energy to keep his eyes open. The dysphoric father, skilful and practised through the handling of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren more numerous than he cared to count, had actually held his breath when Calarlim laid the silk-swathed body within his hands. He had never cuddled a new-born so listless and quiet; indeed, he had feared the worst until he felt the rapid tempo of the determined heart beating beneath the pressure of his fingertips.

Yet the child had refused to stir, content within the cocoon of silk swaddling. It had taken a great deal of cooing, cajoling, and coaxing to bring it about, but at last the long-lashed lids had lifted and the infant's hazy vision had attempted to focus on the source of the familiar voice. For an instant father and son joined sight and their souls met and the King was certain the fragile elfling recognised him. His heart, formerly weighed down in grief and guilt over Lhoss' death, had soared in a bursting flurry of exultant love.

It was not until that moment that I truly claimed him for my own.

Since that moment, Thranduil had tried, wished, hoped, yearned, and failed to achieve full parental control of his youngest son. In the end, his efforts amounted to little more than tokens, nominal actions designed to assuage his guilt, for it had been easier to just let Calarlim handle everything. He had appeased his sons, mollified his deceased wife's incensed kin, acquiesced to the silvans' religious precepts, catered to the courtly nobles, and avoided the responsibility, with its concomitant controversy, of Legolas' upbringing. Had Thranduil truly wanted his third son close beside him, would he not simply have left that talan with his babe in his arms, ignoring Calarlim's possessive demands? Indeed, the Sindarin monarch was well known for decisive deeds, for planning, orchestrating, directing, leading and achieving whatever purpose to which he set his mind and strength.

Now Vairë has brought about the very thing I have both longed for and resisted: the opportunity to really be a father to my son. How like the Vala to make my first duty as such that which is most delicate. Yet I must not falter, neither by failing to speak nor through overly vehement objections, for Legolas' eternal happiness depends upon choosing his life-mate wisely. Adar, how I wish you were still with me!

Thranduil tried to envision what Oropher's response would have been to such a situation but absolutely nothing presented itself. The King realised he had never considered it possible for any of his kin to feel such depraved urges while at the same time had openly deriding anyone in another's House who displayed even vague affectations of their sex's opposite. Had he made such derisive comments in Legolas' hearing? Undoubtedly.

The newly enlightened father stifled a cringe, regretting every example of such intolerance, and unconsciously tightened his hold upon his last child's shoulders as they paced in tandem down the path. He did not feel differently toward Legolas, knowing the truth, but instead commended the youthful ellon for his efforts to remain within the bounds of Law and custom. Yet he did not want Legolas to spend his life alone and loveless. His son deserved a mate as much as any other Elf, and if that partner must be male, then Thranduil would have to find a way to accept it, difficult though that would surely be.

With that thought, he acknowledged where his duty lay. He had no idea how to bring it up, but he must broach the subject of Faer Hebron again, for he trusted his intuition regarding the nature of the Balrog Slayer's keen interest in Cuthenin. Whether Legolas was aware of it was at the heart of the matter.

Nay, whether or no he reciprocates these feelings is the real issue here. And if he does, what then shall my advice be? Thranduil sighed wearily.

Legolas glanced up nervously at the sound, feeling the muscle of the arm across his back grow taut, wondering what thought prompted the sudden tension. He had ben too engaged in the public debate, too relieved to see friends and family support him, too overjoyed to find his father at his side to notice Glorfindel's moment of self-revelation. He could only surmise the uneasy strain arose from the King's concerns over the dangers inherent to the Quest.

He hoped that was the cause. They had not not delved too deeply into specifics after his impulsive admission, both being too uncertain of one another to know how to discuss the subject. Yet Legolas understood that while he need not fear rejection or the loss of his father's love, what he desired was not so easy for Thranduil to wholeheartedly embrace. The little spoken had involved assurances that Legolas was not to blame for his aberrant nature, that knowledge of his abnormal craving need not become public.

What if he secretly believes this weakness will prove the downfall of the Quest?

Legolas forced the idea from his thoughts, refusing to let the fear take hold of him. There had been no hint of artifice or contrivance in the King's Blessing, nor anything but love in his father's soulful plea to remain safe. Nevertheless, Thranduil's quiet brooding wore upon Cuthenin's peace of mind until he could bear it no longer and spoke.

"I should have stayed to join the dance, but I am weary beyond thought, though I have rested several hours already."

"Nay, you have done everything required to ensure your comrades' remembrance. More rest is what you need if you are to be strong enough for this undertaking."

Thranduil was glad he would not have to see his son perform the dance, for the idea of his youngest engaged in even a re-enactment of the deadly travail that marked their days turned his stomach. Thranduil had never seen Legolas in battle; he could not tolerate imagining it much less witness such an abomination. Others brought him reports of Cuthenin's superb marksmanship and unfailing courage and he made certain to give ample praise for every brave deed, but within his heart the King was sickened.

Nothing pointed to the relentless encroachment of the Shadow more than the sad fact that every Elf in Greenwood was trained to fight, no matter what their calling, regardless their repugnance to the idea of killing. Noble and commoner, young or ancient, Sindarin or silvan, from the King's sons to the cobbler's wife, the Wood Elves had few skills as well refined and universally perfected as those used to practise the unholy art of destruction.

Legolas sighed deeply, just as he had in his cousin's embrace. "Aye. I am proud and honoured to aid this cause, yet fearful of impeding the Fellowship's success through my shortcomings and lack of experience."

Thranduil glanced at his youngest child, displeased but not surprised by the note of defeat in every syllable, and observed the faint discolouration ringing the indigo eyes. He suppressed another wince as the wrenching, aching desire to keep Cuthenin close gripped his soul. He is truly too young for this. Yet the apprehensive father realised this assessment was no longer relevant. Legolas was of age and Shadow had already bequeathed to him its most malignant legacy: watching as a beloved parent died a violent death. Not even his older sons had been forced to witness such a horror.

It was an experience he and Legolas shared that the King wished had remained uniquely his, for the tragedy of Oropher's death had deeply scarred his soul. Thranduil would have given anything for his child to be spared the same. This is the source for his self-doubt: guilt. I believed I should have been able to save my Adar. Legolas believes he could have prevented Calarlim's death. We are both wrong, but we feel responsible anyway. He smiled bravely and gave the slender shoulders a firm squeeze.

"Nay, you have more experience than you realise. Who among those mortals has fought against Wraiths, Orcs, and spiders, often simultaneously?" Thranduil asked and then answered himself: "Not one of them. Have any of them undergone a ritual as gruelling and dangerous as Úcaul Annar to ensure their friends and kinfolk peace beyond death? Nay, I think not. And you have no deficiencies to overlook, ionen nelui, (my third son) or at least none that are relevant to the success of this Quest."

"Le hantëan." Legolas' smile transformed his careworn features with jubilant pride. "I am thankful for your support, Adar. I was not sure how you would take the news."

Thranduil smiled in kind, welcoming any brief reprieve from his harrowing thoughts of war, death, and the looming topic of Faer Hebron. "I seemed calm and composed at the feast, did I not?"

"You did; I was most impressed. Even Tû (short for Tûovor, eldest prince) remained reserved, considering his explosive reaction when I was chosen as the messenger, while Tûr (short for Tûrdangannen, second prince) barely spoke at all."

"Their restraint is even greater than you suspect, for we had been informed of the full compliment of the Fellowship only a couple of hours before the meal. The illustrious Lords of Gondolin failed to mention that in their recount of the Council's minutes. The news actually came from you, for your written report was most thorough, as always. I am sure you can imagine Tûr stalking the halls, waving the document, shouting in consternation: 'Lord Elrond is mad! He should not be permitted to make these kinds of decisions.' That is why I was called away; Galion sent word that I was urgently needed."

"Which must translate: 'Your Second son is attempting to strangle your Third son's Guardian'."

"I would not have left you alone otherwise, sleeping or not."

Legolas shared a less assured grin with his father as they ambled along the winding path from Calenhad (Green-space) back toward his simple abode within the trees. The hush that followed their brief exchange was underscored by the trailing tendrils of the joyless music insinuating its escalating temper into the space around and between them. Each felt the doom of their impending separation on the morrow. In the time required for seven breaths their easy rapport leeched away, claimed by the tainted mood, evaporating into the heavy night.

The uneven emotions spoiled the pleasure of the moment, eradicating what delight should have been contained in this rarity, father and son strolling together amicably without need for pretence or protocol to govern their interaction. Instead of being astounded by their newly-forged confidence in one another, rather than feeling heartened by this budding surety of mutual acceptance and respect, Thranduil and Legolas were mired in doubt as to the durability of their accord. If anything, the nearness of Legolas' departure caused the two to appreciate these fears more keenly.

Impulsively, each gripped the other, attempting forestall the inevitable, instinctively clinging closer to the notions of comfort and security bounded in the concepts of home and kinship. Thranduil looked at his son and found the archer's eyes upon the path, brow furrowed and mouth fixed in grim despondence. Thinking over the simple conversation, he wondered what interpretation Legolas might have given to the words. The King deemed it best to take nothing on assumption when Legolas harboured such strong internal reservations regarding his worth.

"Do not misinterpret their actions; Tûr knows, as do Tû and I, that your skill with the bow is second to none. Tûr's fear of you coming to harm overwhelmed him, prompting that outburst. As for me, I have been to Mordor and Tû is old enough to remember my stricken state when I returned, the lone survivor of my immediate kin. If I could trade places and go in your stead, it would be done. Your brothers feel likewise and I know several of your nephews and cousins who would do the same." Thranduil stopped and turned Legolas to face him, a hand firmly on either shoulder so that he could look him in the eyes. "We understand why you are going and even agree with your reasons. Indeed, we are filled with justified pride for such determination, but that does not stop us from worrying."

"Iston, Adar." (I know, Father.) Leolas met the serious expression with matching solemnity for several seconds before the pair resumed their walk, grateful for the reassuring weight of his father's arm draped protectively across back once more.

Thranduil suddenly gave a small exclamation and shook his head. To Legolas' unspoken enquiry he smiled sadly as he replied, "I just realised we have never walked this path alone, you and I. Always Calarlim was along, or more often one or the other of us travelled it singly. I regret that more deeply than anything else, Legolas. It should not have been so difficult for a father to be with his child, nor for a son to seek his Adar's advise and comfort."

"Aye, it must seem thus to you, having overseen every aspect of Tû and Tûr's young years. I have known no other way and was merely grateful for the time we spent together. I am sorry Calarlim deprived you."

"Ai! Every action done in Greenwood is not yours to account for!" Thranduil gave his son's shoulders a brisk shake. "Calarlim did as she thought best and I cannot fault her in your upbringing, for every decision proceeded from a profound love and a desire to protect you from an ill-fate you did not deserve. She loved Lhoss but was very angry with her sister for placing you in such a situation."

They were quiet for a time and the King felt his youngest child shiver just slightly. Thranduil repeated the reassuringly strong tug in response and heard Legolas' brief sigh of sorrow.

"I was angry, too," Cuthenin admitted slowly, "once I learned what those words meant: 'Thranduil's bastard' and 'Greenwood's shame'. I did not even know her and could not understand what I had done to make her want to punish me so. She gave me life and then abandoned me. It was long before I could forgive her."

"There was nothing I could do to prevent those harsh insults from reaching your ears, yet it still sears my soul to hear you repeat them." Thranduil slowed on the path, startled to be discussing with his son the same guilt-ridden memories that ever plagued him when his feet trod upon it. "Truly, Lhoss never envisioned it would turn out that way. She was so certain that what she felt was also in my heart; she was convinced that I refused to declare my love for fear of wounding my elder sons. Your mother really believed that news of our child's conception would break me free of those constraints. Oh, how I failed her! And you. By the time I understood it was too late; she had resigned herself to fading."

Legolas halted, eyes trained upon the compacted earth beneath his bare feet, forcing Thranduil's stop as well. "There were times I wished she had taken me with her," the archer said, the words little more than a whisper in the chilled autumn air. "When I understood what exactly was wrong with me, when you sent me away, then I felt it would be better to face Námo than eternity in such shame and isolation. If not for Calarlim…"

Legolas ceased speaking abruptly for his father had fallen upon his knees and clutched him tight about the waist, face pressed against his sternum as muffled cries of angry anguish escaped into the night. Cuthenin was shocked and knew not what to do, instinctively laying one comforting hand upon the King's bowed head and the other on his shoulder. "Nin gohennach! (Forgive me!) I did not mean to upset you, Adar."

Thranduil merely hugged him closer and groaned in greater despair, his entire frame shaking with the force of the sorrow these words worked within his heart. How could I have remained silent all this time? I should have spoken of these things with my child openly. Valar, I would have ordered a flogging were any parent reported to me for exhibiting such negligence for their child as I have shown! "Manwë forgive me! How can you abide to even look upon me; I have wronged you so deeply? Legolas, speak not of longing for death, I beg you!"

"Sîdh! (Peace!) Adar, I do not yearn for Mandos anymore, this I swear. Úcaul Annar has satisfied my soul's craving for Nana Calarlim and Glor - my Faer Hebron has granted me hope of true peace and contentment in the future." Legolas' desire to appease his father's distress caused him to momentarily forgo caution and he barely caught himself before speaking aloud his beloved Balrog Slayer's name. He held his breath, for the slip stilled Thranduil's muted wails instantaneously.

As suddenly as he had dropped to the ground, the King was on his feet again, gripping his son at the elbow and tugging him into motion, casting worried glances from red-rimmed and tear-drenched eyes to either side of the path and up into the limbs overhead. "These are issues we should discuss in a more private venue," he murmured, his sidelong glance documenting Legolas' dismay and dread.

The two traded no more words as they nearly ran down the trail, Legolas terrified for the implications his father's actions portended and Thranduil apprehensive lest some unseen Elf might have overheard the archer's partial admission. True, no one had they encountered thus far yet it was not unlikely that some citizens might forgo the fête and remain at home. Mid-stride, the King altered their direction, choosing an intersecting track that led to the mountain fortress. In minutes the looming pinnacle came into view as they cleared the tree line. Moments later they hastened inside through the kitchen entrance. Still keeping a sure clasp on his son, Thranduil slowed to a less frantic pace as they traversed the tangled labyrinth, quickly gaining the more sumptuous section in which the ruling family was quartered.

When at last the King stopped before the doors of his private suite, Legolas was close to desperation. He had often been in this apartment once he reached the age of thirty and was required to undergo formal education and tutelage in the ways of the Sindarin court. Usually he anticipated time spent in Thranduil's rooms with excitement of an entirely different order than he was presently experiencing. He watched as his father released him and pulled a set of keys from his waistcoat pocket, sorting through them for the right one. Thranduil dropped them and cursed, bending to snatch them back up, his hands shaking with the strength of the emotion coursing through him. Anger, disgust, both? Legolas wondered and his shoulders slumped.

Then the lock clicked and the tormented parent seized his son's arm and ushered him inside, giving a last glance along the corridor before shutting the portal, careful to elicit no sound from the heavy wooden barrier.

The room was not as dark as one might expect an underground chamber would be and this was primarily due to extensive delving through the stone to the surface, creating a series of narrow shafts for ventilation and light. Within some of the sloping tubes were mirrors positioned to capture and deliver the beams of the sun into the rooms, and though it was night there was a faint illumination from the waxing gibbous moon. In addition, the remains of the fire still smouldered in the grate, lending the space a soft iridescent glow. Nonetheless, Thranduil hastened to light a lamp and then moved to the hearth. He knelt and built up the fire with wordless concentration, poking and stirring the ashes, arranging the logs with excessive precision, turning the simple exercise into a procedure requiring great care and patience.

Truly, he knew not how to speak of this and was trying to recall any counsel he had ever given his elder children or even some among the latter generations concerning the ways of love. He was dismayed to realise nothing at all came to mind and was forced to confront the fact that he had allowed someone else to attend this vital task. No doubt their naneth took charge of such instruction. Yet the realisation that he was perceived so unavailable to his offspring stung sharply and unsettled his heart. What manner of father have I been to my sons?

"Adar?" Legolas managed to speak, unable to endure any more of the intense silence. "I did not mean to deceive you; nay, that is wrong. I did not want to deceive you but I…"

"You could not trust that I would support you? Do not apologise, for I do not blame you. Come here, Legolas, and sit beside me," Thranduil urged and his voice held neither wrath nor repugnance but instead rang with remorse and sorrow. The King took a place upon the settee and waited as his youngest obeyed.

Legolas complied, sitting gingerly next to his father, staring with owlish eyes in a mixture of surprise and worry, for he had no experience to prepare him for how to deal with his Adar in such an open manner. Nearly his entire existence had been spent trying to prevent Thranduil from rejecting him by shielding the King from the truth. As a young elfling, Legolas had become convinced that Thranduil was ignorant of the horrid things others spoke concerning him. The child feared that if his father ever learned what the other Elves said, he would agree with them and send Legolas away. The adult version of the distraught youngling had never quite managed to banish those beliefs from his heart.

"Your Faer Hebron is Glorfindel," Thranduil spoke the words as facts and this was born out when Legolas nodded in unspoken assent.

"You are not angry?" he asked tentatively.

"Nay," Thranduil blew a disgruntled sigh through his nostrils, accompanied by a brief press of fingertips to eyes irritated by the unaccustomed flow of tears. "I am surprised, though the more I think on it the more sense it makes. I feel foolish, if you must know, that I did not figure it out right away, especially considering the Elf's rather astonishing remarks at the feast."

"I did not intend to make you look a fool. I just thought it would be best to wait until after, when I know for certain if this is going to work."

"Saes, no apologies." Thranduil felt his world tilt ominously at the implications. After what, exactly? "I cannot pretend to know what it was like to grow up in fear of your own father finding out who you are, but I can promise that whatever dread you harboured will not be proved valid. You owe me no explanations, Legolas.

"I am concerned, nonetheless. Glorfindel? Ai, his reputation precedes him and I am not referring to legendary battles, ancient or otherwise. Valar! Galdor chose poorly for you and I am indeed displeased with his decision. Surely there are other ellyn in Imladris he might have selected? What of Elrond's sons?"

"What of them? Adar, forgive me, but I feel toward them as I do for Tû and Tûr."

"And for this re-born warrior you feel…what? Tell me what has taken you in this direction, for I fear the dire condition of your health has been used against you by this lecherous ellon. He is bound to another; was this never revealed? I will not stand by and permit him to use you and then turn away from you."

"He would never do that, Adar. What you have learned of Glorfindel is unfairly biased. He was bound in his first life but not so in the second. His heart does not belong to anyone, unless it is to me."

"How can you be certain of this? You have known him but a few days and the conditions under which you met were not usual. I can tell you a person does not change natures so swiftly, if at all."

"I do not dispute that yet I believe his true nature is honourable."

"Yet he has dallied with many hearts and wounded those who did not deserve such punishment. I know that Rumil returned to Lorien with his soul in poor condition after his sojourn with Glorfindel ended, though by all accounts he was no innocent going into the encounter. You have no experience whatsoever. How can you judge what is true and what is fallacy where such matters are concerned?"

"I do not know!" Legolas nearly shouted in exasperated dismay, rising from the sofa and pacing in agitation around the room's perimeter. He stopped by the fireplace and leaned upon the mantle, trying to compose himself. "Tell me how to judge the difference, Adar. How will I know if what I feel is merely lustful desire or a genuine commitment that springs from within my soul? How did you know?"

Thranduil realised his mouth was agape and shut it, blinking to bring his eyes back into a less amazed diameter before swallowing nervously and clearing his throat.

"I…when I met Merenind (Joyous Thought - Thranduil's deceased wife) her beauty and refinement were the first aspects of her being to gain my attention," he began, motioning for Legolas to return, watching as his youngest did so. "There is nothing wrong with stirrings of attraction, though it is easy to understand how you came to such a notion. You have felt such yearning and had no means to express it, whereas your contemporaries, male and female, were permitted the flirting and dallying common to that stage of development.

"Thus did I learn much of such carnal pleasures long before I met my life-mate. When we were together, I knew how to temper such sensations in favour of learning of her character, her hopes and dreams, her thoughts and convictions. I courted her slowly, for she was hesitant to accept my attentions. This may have increased my determination somewhat, I do admit, but by then I already knew she was the right one, the only one."

"But how? What gave you such assurance?" demanded Legolas impatiently. He sat bent forward toward his father, absorbing every nuance, every inflection of Thranduil's voice and tone, each shift in body posture, desperate to learn what he so dearly wished to know. To his disappointment and disgust, the King merely shrugged, an apologetic smile upending his firm mouth.

"I honestly cannot say exactly. There was within my heart a sense of having met my counterpart, a feeling that if I did not win her favour I would forever be incomplete, bereft of a vital component of my being. There was strong concurrence from both my family and hers, which encouraged me. Everyone seemed to agree that we were fated to be matched, except for her! This only spurred me to greater efforts and after almost two years of courtship I at last gained her hand.

"There is a significant difference between my situation and yours, and I do not refer to Glorfindel's gender. Merenind was of unimpeachable character and highly eligible. She was of eminent status and thus in a position to have her choice from among any of the noble ellyn in Doriath. My family was not so exalted in those days, though Oropher's holdings in Neldoreth were not insignificant. The House of the Beeches was considered rather rustic, however, and Oropher was known to be contentious regarding the influence of the Noldor upon Thingol's court."

"She was of a more prestigious family; is that what made her reticent regarding your suit?" Legolas asked, hoping to distract his father from further castigation of his Faer Hebron's intentions.

"Nay, it was nothing like that, though I long believed as you have spoken. Many years later, after Tû was born, she revealed to me that she had been cursed with a vision of being severed from her family. In this dream she rode at my side as a vast host commenced emigration from the woods of our homeland. It proved to be a prophetic insight. After much deliberation, she accepted this as her fate, believing the Vala Vairë had gifted her with knowledge of her true path. Thus the very intuition that first made her hesitant finally made her mine." Thranduil smiled but a brightly knowing gleam filled his eye, though not an unkindly one.

"Yet your case is much different, as I began to elucidate," he resumed his lecture as Legolas grimaced and sat back, folding defiant arms over his chest. "You have not had any opportunity to explore the feelings assailing your body. I will admit to being torn between worry and pride regarding your retention of innocence so long past your majority. Over-riding all was a latent fear of your particular problem, for there was ample evidence to suggest something amiss during your adolescence. I believed then that the situation was temporary and would right itself."

Legolas snorted angrily and turned away, hugging his arms tight around his body and glaring into the fire. "I cannot change what I am. I cannot feel what is counter to my heart's desire. I have tried; Calarlim made me try. It was horrible and humiliating, Adar. The elleth charged with my 'instruction' was not cruel nor did she ever reveal to anyone my failure, but her pitying eyes stayed with me long after the event."

"Valar! I do not mean to put you through any such ordeal, ion nelui, nor to change your nature. I only hoped to explain how you ended up so unprepared for the decision you now face." Thranduil reached for his son, a strong hand over hunched and in-drawn shoulders, and carefully massaged the rigid muscles. He had not imagined Calarlim would demand a test so severe and could not prevent a bright flair of indignation and ire on his child's behalf. Yet guilt quenched it, for thus was answered a question he had harboured but had dreaded to ask.

"Your lack of exposure to admiring eyes and inquisitive hands makes you vulnerable," he continued. "Not everyone who finds you attractive will hold honourable thoughts, and some would purposefully deceive you to gain your trust and thus access to your body."

"Glorfindel would not do that," he insisted, yet simultaneously recalled that Galdor, and even Lord Elrond, had worried over this very notion.

"I hope that is true; nevertheless I want you to be cautious. Do not give away your heart to someone unworthy of it, mistaking your body's craving for pleasurable release as real sentiment." He maintained the comforting pressure and allowed Legolas time to return from memories that were obviously painful and gave rise to belligerent discontent.

"I do not deny having those feelins for Glorfindel, nor would I deny that his expressed interest in me is thrilling in its own right." Legolas slowly relaxed and attempted to voice the secrets of his inner-most heart and soul. "Yet there is something more than this. I have given him my soul and he accepted it freely. He held me safe, Adar. There was nothing then of the body between us, yet I felt at home within his heart. When it was time to separate, he feared to let me go; he feared I meant to depart for Mandos, that I would leave him alone. He is very lonely, Ada, for all his numerous conquests. Accounts of which are highly exaggerated, I assure you."

To such a declaration, Thranduil knew not what to say. There was the ring of truth in Legolas' words and an underlying warmth in his tone bearing the unmistakable cadence of deep longing and ardent yearning. He spoke as one divided from his soul-mate; Thranduil was reminded of his own sense of division the first time he was forced to leave Merenind's side to attend the duties to which a warrior is bound. He met his son's conflicted gaze, hope and uncertainty warring within Cuthenin's clear blue orbs, and Thranduil realised with a start that, while Legolas was yet confused, he was convinced.

Legolas' heart is already bound to the Balrog Slayer.

With that conviction came the overwhelming need to demand an equally earnest confession from the Faer Hebron. Impulsively, Thranduil enveloped his son in a reassuringly impenetrable hug, hoping to impart the validation such a heartfelt admission warranted. Before he could utter such affirmations, Legolas posed a jarring question.

"Did you love her, Adar? Did you feel anything in your heart for Lhoss or was there only lustful longing?"

Thranduil felt the air gush from his lungs, the query, hard and biting and bitter, hitting him in the gut with the force of two centuries of unrevealed suffering. He sat back but did not let go of his child, braving the anguished look wrought upon Cuthenin's comely features. It took a moment to compose himself enough to answer, and even at that he felt tears collect within his eyes even before the words left his lips.

"I did love her, ionen, though in a lesser manner; I did. It was impossible for me to admit this, for I still am soul-bound to Merenind. How could I betray my beloved thus? I still do not understand how fickle my heart has proved to be, to my shame. I did not want to love Lhoss. We were only friends; we were only bed-mates, well-matched and like in mind-set."

Legolas flinched and shut his eyes, attempting to break free of Thranduil's grasp. The King held on tighter, however, and Legolas ceased to struggle as the explanation went on.

"Forgive me, I know this is terrible to hear. I do not wish to pretend that what I shared with your naneth was right, for it was not. I mislead her because I could not be honest with myself. I am guilty of encouraging her to relinquish her heart and give in to an unrequited love. The unrestricted gift of her heart enabled me to survive my grief, but in return I offered her nothing other than the comfort of bed-sport and the camaraderie we had always known.

"I am responsible for your mother's death, let me not seek to hide from responsibility. I pray each day for her forgiveness, and yours." Then Thranduil awaited his son's conviction, for he had never answered this question before, though Legolas had posed it obliquely on more than one occasion. To his amazement, Legolas merely shrugged and grimaced, eyes open but lowered as he answered.

"I did not know her; she is an enigma to me. I just needed to hear it from you, the why of it all. The talk of her was less than kind, as you know, and so it remains. Yet I could not comprehend what she gained by the association. To me it seemed she traded everything: a position of trust within the court, the esteem of her peers within the silvan community, the respect of virtually every Elf in the woods, all for someone who did not care about her. It made no sense to me, though everyone called her base and labelled her a whore, as if this explained everything."

"She was neither of those things and I cannot even speak such words with her in mind," Thranduil's vehement response countered his son's lackadaisical rejoinder. "Do not think ill of her, Legolas. She saw within my soul the feelings I tried to deny. She hoped to bring them to full bloom and failed, but this is not something for which she deserves scorn and derision from anyone. Even you, whom her actions harmed the most."

"Yet she loved you far more than she ever did me. She only made me as a means to gain your heart. When she failed, Lhoss readily abandoned me."

"You have not forgiven her."

"I am trying. I just do not understand, or at least, what I understand wounds me."

"Aye. I believe you have endured this grief your entire life," said Thranduil and the reality of his observation was both eye-opening and frightening. What could it be like to face every single day with such knowledge, that his mother preferred to die rather than bear the shame and grief of raising an illegitimate son, that his father considered him unworthy to share the family name and let others claim him? He had not envisioned before how close to the brink of fading Legolas lived.

Yet Thranduil knew it was not what Lhoss had willed. "You have been mislead by all the hearsay and low gossip. She did not choose to desert you nor did she love me more than you. She gave every ounce of her strength, every particle of her spirit to create you and bring you to life. She believed I would have a change of heart and accept you both. Forgive her for holding to hope, Legolas; she did not mean to wound you but to provide you with a true family, both a father and a mother to love and raise you properly. I am the one at fault, for had I not denied her so cruelly she would have survived our separation and would be here with you now. Mayhap all you have suffered would not have come to pass."

Legolas sighed and shrugged again; it was not the answer he had wanted but he could not define what an acceptable reply would be. He was not sure he would ever be able to agree with Thranduil's assessment of Lhoss' motives, but was unwilling to upset his Adar further. "I do not want to harbour ill-feelings against either of you. It maters little now at any rate; the past cannot be undone. I must keep hope for the future instead, and if the Quest succeeds mayhap I will find the peace I seek with Glorfindel." He finally lifted his eyes to the King and offered a half-hearted smile.

Thranduil returned the expression fully, reading easily the refractory resentment but noting also Cuthenin's determination to slough off the burden such residual ire placed upon his soul. It is the link to his Faer Hebron that has permitted this more positive outlook.

"Your words do Glorfindel great credit. I am honoured for your trust in speaking honestly with me, yet understand that I must hear the same declaration from his heart before I can think to give my blessing to this match," he replied in hoarse and broken tones, finding the idea of his last-born grown and soul-bound saddened him, given the circumstances and the harrowing events poised to part the would-be lovers. He felt Legolas stiffen in anxiety and rubbed a soothing caress over the golden crown of hair before he let go and stood up.

"You mean to speak to him of this? What are you going to say?" Legolas' voice was fraught with trepidation and he stared in blatant consternation, his hands gripping the cushion of the sofa so hard the fabric would likely hold his prints for a week.

"Do not be worried; I will remain calm as long as his responses are honest and his emotions genuine. If I sense any subterfuge or dissembling, that is another matter. Permit your Adar to do this one thing on your behalf. You would have my assessment and my advice, would you not?" he asked gently.

"Aye. Only, I do not want you to make him fearful to…to court me," Legolas admitted, his ears growing red as the culmination of courtship presented itself to his mind, accompanied by excitement to have his father confirm his choice and terror lest he reject the Balrog Slayer's suit.

Thranduil peered at his son gravely, knowing what he must say would be no consolation to his son. "If he is so easily diverted from this course then you will see that his heart and soul are not engaged. It is better to learn this now, though your spirit would suffer for it, than years later when the wound would be far deeper and unlikely to heal. Remain here; go and rest in the bed chamber for a time. I will return as soon as I am satisfied."

So stating, the King strode from the room with his accustomed pace of purposeful authority, leaving behind an archer far too rattled and agitated to think of sleep.

TBC

Thank you to:

Daphne, for those wonderful compliment s and the good karma!

Nine, for a lovely affirmation.

Seshy Angel for the questions as well as the praises. The older princes did have a lot of resentment against their unexpected little brother. I will try to make that plain in the next chapter during 'Glorfindel's grilling'. :)
Giggle, for such a fine recap of the first chapter aand those marvelous quips about the Noldor. Yes, they should all know better and they will get their comeuppance soon! I too like Glorfindel noble but flawed, and hope I achieve that characterisation here.

atirb, for two great reviews! You made some terrific comments and i am very grateful you approve the way the story is developing. Here is the next installment, but still a cliffhanger!

melanie, for those glowing words of praise and for such dedication - to reread from first to last! Thank you very much.