Gifts of the Valar.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.

SPECIAL WARNING: One of the discoveries revealed in this chapter may bother those of a sensitive disposition. Most likely, it will not seem that bad, but it is best to offer the warning than be sorry.
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Alexandra managed to eat a few bites of the bread and cheese as she stripped down to her undertunic. She noticed Legolas seemed preoccupied as he pulled off his jacket and tunic, and walked over to where he stood looking out of the window into the dark yet quiet night. Wrapping her arms around him, she rested her head against his back, the flesh warm, but the smooth muscles tense beneath her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as his hands covered hers.

“I am simply thinking about these coincidences, intertwined relationships---I do not like them.”

“That’s not it,” she said, kissing his shoulder blade. “I am your wife; I can tell when something deeper is bothering you. Please, Legolas, tell me what troubles you.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. Turning he pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. The breeze coming through the window was cool on his flesh and he idly wondered if it was too cold for his mortal wife, though she gave no sign of being uncomfortable.

Alex nestled against her husband’s body, her hands sliding over his smoothly muscled back, still feeling the tension beneath her touch. Whatever was bothering him seemed to have been brought on by the recent events with Charika.

Legolas did not like keeping things from his wife. He kissed the top of her head and took her hand, leading her over to the couch in the sitting area of the room and sat, pulling her down onto his lap.

“When Charika and I were taken, I … did something I perhaps should not,” he began.

Alex felt as though someone had punched her hard in the stomach. She had known Legolas and Charika had been alone under stressful circumstances, and Lastharos had kept them naked the entire time. But she trusted her friend and her husband. Surely, he had not---.

Legolas sensed her concern and shook his head.

“No, my love. Nothing improper happened between us. You know I would never willingly share my body with anyone other than you.” He felt her relax and smiled to himself sadly. She still felt some insecurity at times and he supposed it was simply the nature of mortals; though, he thought, once she found out what he had done, she might see him differently and he could not bear that.

“Tell me, Legolas. Let me share whatever burdens you.”

He took a deep breath.

“Morgoth’s voice taunted me while I was imprisoned alone in the dark, before I knew of Lastharos’ presence. He … told me lies, tried to cause me to doubt our love for one another.” Alexandra opened her mouth to protest but he put a finger to her lips. “No, my love. Please, let me tell all that I must before you say anything.” She nodded and he continued.

“I knew he was lying and eventually he fell silent. During Lastharos’ torment of us, Morgoth came to me no more. Then, after the rest of you arrived and you had left me in Lastharos’ chamber in order to get water for me to bathe, he once again began to speak to me. He---he offered to keep Charika from dying.” He saw the question in her eyes. “I did not promise him anything and indeed I asked him what payment he required and he said he simply wished to help her, asking nothing in return.” He laughed. “In fact, he tried to make me think he had undergone a change of heart and wished to ‘redeem’ himself in Eru’s eyes. He said he would help Charika as a token of apology for tempting me with his lies and tormenting me while I was injured and alone. It was not ‘sporting’, what he had done, he told me. I---I knew it was wrong, but if he could keep Charika from dying and relieve Rumil’s pain …” Legolas bowed his head. “I asked him to help her,” he whispered.

Alexandra had listened in silence and felt a combination of horror, sorrow and understanding. Her husband had been taunted by Lastharos as being powerless to help Charika as the monster had raped and tortured her. She could well understand how he would have grasped this seemingly miraculous opportunity to help the woman as well as ease the agony of his friend. Still, from all she had heard of Morgoth, he was Middle-Earth’s equivalent of Lucifer---a fallen Vala---and as such was this world’s Satan, the master of lies and deceit. She well understood Legolas’ fears and regret. Making ‘a deal with the devil’, as her people would say, always had a bad outcome.

She reached out and caressed his cheek, cupping his chin and turning his face to hers. She smiled and brushed his lips with her own.

“You did what you thought best, my love. Your heart and your motives were, and remain, pure.”

The eyes that met hers, however, were still haunted.

“What if these … things that follow Charika now were brought back because of Morgoth’s intervention? What if her continued torment is my fault?”

“Oh, Legolas, no!” Alex gripped his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “You have done nothing but good. None of this mess is your fault. It is Goroth’s fault for being vain and proud and falling away from the Valar; his fault for committing atrocities against his own people and the people of Rhun. It is Lastharos’ fault for being inherently twisted and evil; for tormenting you and Charika. It is Morgoth’s fault simply for being the root of all evil in Arda. You are not to blame. Stop torturing yourself over things that you cannot control.”

“But I could have controlled this,” he said and her heart broke when he added, in a whisper, “I could have let her die and go to the halls of her fathers in peace.”

Alex wrapped her arms around her husband and held him close. “No, Legolas. You could not have let her die when you had the opportunity to save her. Everything happens for a reason. Besides, who is to say Morgoth had anything to do with Charika’s recovery? If Eru had decided that she should have died, she would have died; nothing any Vala---especially a fallen one---could have done would have made any difference if it had been meant for her to die at Lastharos’ hand.”

Legolas closed his eyes, taking comfort in his wife’s arms and in her words. What she said rang true. If Eru had deemed it Charika’s time to die, then nothing he or anyone else---including Morgoth---did would have changed her fate.

“It is simply another way for Morgoth to try to tempt me---to control me,” he sighed. “He tried to use you, but his lies and his empty promises did not work.”

She nuzzled his silky hair, her fingers smoothing over his shoulders. “How? How did he try to use me against you?” She would do anything to ease her husband’s burdens. If Morgoth was trying to use her against him, she would do all she could to take that option away from the Vala.

He was silent, pondering how to answer her. He did not wish to tell her, but he loved her and felt he owed her the truth. The prince squeezed her tightly for a moment, the memories of Morgoth’s lies and temptations reminding him of her mortality and his inevitable loss of the woman he loved.

Taking her hand in his, Legolas told her how Morgoth had at first offered to give her immortality so that they could be together forever both in Middle-Earth and in the Undying Lands---all he had to do was stay out of the fallen Vala’s plans and machinations. He told her of Morgoth’s attempts to cause him to be suspicious of their friends, especially the Noldor, trying to make him think they desired to usurp his position with her, among other things. Finally, he told her of Morgoth’s vile suggestions that Alexandra had bedded his father when she had taken refuge in Thranduil’s kingdom---how else to explain the king’s change of heart toward his mortal daughter-in-law?

Alex listened to her husband as he told her of the evil being’s attempts to seduce him into, if not helping Morgoth, at least not interfering with his designs, and her heart ached.

“Why did you not tell me what he was doing to you?” she asked when he had finished.

“Why burden you with his lies?” Legolas countered. He kissed her softly. “I did not believe them. I knew you were true to me and I knew my father would never have done the things Morgoth described. The most difficult of his seductions to resist was the promise of immortality for you.” He pulled her head down onto his shoulder. “I have prayed to the Valar and Eru that we be allowed to be together for eternity, but I know it will only be by their will that such a prayer would be granted. It is the thing I desire most and Morgoth knows that.”

“Don’t let him tempt you,” she whispered. “I am mortal and we both knew when we married that I will likely die before you and will go to my own fate. I would give anything to be able to stay with you forever, but whatever God---Eru---the Creator---wills, then that is what will be. We must simply trust that it is the right thing for both of us, even if it is not what we would like for it to be. We must make the most of the time we have together.” Tears spilled silently down her cheeks. Their inevitable separation by death was a Sword of Damocles hanging over them that neither wished to acknowledge.

Her tears were hot against his flesh and Legolas closed his eyes, holding her close, trying to comfort his wife when his own heart mourned their inevitable separation.

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed to say.

“Why?” he asked, kissing her wet cheeks and tasting the bitter saltiness.

“I should be stronger. I should be more like you.” She looked into his calm, grey-blue eyes. “I wish I had the kind of serenity you have.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I have no more serenity than you do, my love; I simply have had longer to prepare myself for some things. Although,” he added as he once again drew her head down to his shoulder and held her tightly, “nothing can prepare me for being apart from you. But having had this time together will provide memories that will last for eternity and I would not trade them for anything.”

They sat in silence for quite some time before finally retiring to their pallet, where they fell asleep, bodies and hearts entwined.


The next morning, the Elves resumed perusing the journals and papers for any information on Lastharos, Goroth or the Waters of the Awakening. Alexandra noticed Charika seemed somewhat subdued and after breakfast, pulled the woman aside.

“I know what happened had to have been terrifying,” Alex began.

“Actually, it was not as frightening as I would have expected,” Charika said, surprisingly.

“Really?” Alex could think of no other response at the moment.

The woman shook her head. “Looking back, I should have been speechless with horror or paralyzed, but all I felt was their sorrow and loneliness. I could tell they died in fear, but I never really feared for me, for my safety. Even when I felt that other presence, the one so angry, I did not really fear for myself. I believe I was feeling their fear of him, or at least the memory of their fear of him.” She laughed ruefully. “I think one reason I am not so frightened is that I no longer fear I am going mad.” She paused. “I wonder why I was not as afraid then as I was in the sitting room or when I was alone in our chamber. It was not the same feeling.”

“I’m not the person to ask about mystical, spiritual things,” Alex said after a moment. “Glorfindel would be the first one I would go to for such answers.” She had seen Legolas speaking with the golden-haired Elf earlier and they had called Rumil over to join them. She imagined her husband had taken her advice and spoken with the Elf-Lord about his concerns.

Charika tilted her head. “I---he is very nice to me, but he makes me uncomfortable,” she surprised Alex by saying. “He has always been kind to me and I do feel safe around him but he is …” She trailed off, searching for the correct word.

“Intimidating?” Alex guessed.

The woman nodded. “Very much so. He has such an air about him. He glows,” she added in a whisper, eyes wide. “Can you not see it?”

Alex looked out the window where Glorfindel stood, surrounded now by Legolas, Rumil and his brothers. She simply saw a very handsome, relaxed, good-natured Elf who, if he radiated anything, it was comfort and serenity. She shook her head.

“I … have had occasion to see him as imposing and powerful,” she said, recalling how his gaze had penetrated her soul when he had stopped her from thrusting the rusty Orc dagger into chest in Mordor after she had been raped by Goroth and his executioners. She’d had no doubt that he was a mighty Elf-Lord and had been totally in his thrall. Then his disarming smile had appeared and she once again saw simply her friend.

Charika looked out the window. “They all have that Elven shimmer, I suppose,” the Eastern woman murmured. “But Glorfindel shines; sometimes it is brighter than at others, but it is always there. None of the others are like him.”

Alex could not dispute that last statement. “What about Helcarin?” she asked, curious about Glorfindel’s son. He was begotten after Glorfindel had died and been re-embodied and she wondered if he had inherited anything from his golden-haired father besides his easy manner and beautiful hair.

Charika thought for a moment. “He sometimes seems to have many colors about him, but not like Glorfindel. They wane then grow brighter for a moment.” She gave a soft giggle. “Perhaps it comes with age.”

Alex thought her friend might have a point.

“Have you always been able to see these auras?” She could think of nothing else to call them.

The other woman searched her memory. “No. I cannot recall ever noticing them when I dwelt in Ithilien with Rumil. Here … I began to notice them gradually. Perhaps they were always there and I never really paid them heed. I can remember when my lord first came to me at Vanurion’s house thinking how he seemed to shimmer like silver while those I had been dwelling with had more of a golden presence.” She studied Alexandra. “You … yours is very different. It is not so much a glow or shimmer as a faint mist, I suppose I would call it. It grows lighter when you are near Legolas and though it changes a bit around the others, it is with Legolas that it seems to lighten the most.” She smiled. “I wonder if it is because it is reflecting your love for one another.”

Alex smiled. “Perhaps it is. I find it fascinating that you have acquired these abilities.”

“As am I,” her friend answered. “There is so much I could learn, I think. Even though it was---still is---a bit frightening, there is something wonderful about this gift. I hope I have the courage to use it as Eru intends.”

That her friend considered it a gift from Iluvatar was something that should help ease Legolas’ mind. “Just know that we are here for you,” she told Charika, covering the woman’s hand with her own. “If you get the urge to go exploring or if your shadows return and call you, come get me or somebody and we will go with you.”

The dark-haired woman nodded. “They are here, you know.”

Alex immediately looked around, seeing nothing unusual. “Where?”

Glancing toward the hallway in the direction of the kitchen and the door to the cellar and dungeon, Charika replied, “Waiting in the hallway. They want to show me more. They were interrupted yesterday.”

She looked toward where her friend had indicated but could see nothing out of the ordinary. She glanced back out of the window and saw Legolas and the others watching them. Glorfindel smiled and motioned for them to come out and join them. She looked at Charika.

“Seems your shadowy friends will have to wait. We’re being summoned.”


Legolas had, indeed, taken his wife’s advice and spoken with Glorfindel about the unpleasantness with Morgoth and his offer to heal Charika. The golden-haired Noldo had listened without comment then given the prince a reassuring smile.

“Morgoth lies. He cannot give immortality or life. Likely he knew Charika was not going to die and simply used it to try to make you feel beholden to him.”

“It obviously worked,” Legolas sighed. “I have been burdened by that choice ever since it was made.”

“Only Eru has the power Morgoth tries to claim. The Valar have some power, but Morgoth is imprisoned in the void and his powers are held in check. He uses manipulation and others to do his will.” Glorfindel saw relief in his young friend’s expression.

“So he did tell the truth when he told me he did not do things to us; we did them ourselves.”

Glorfindel gave a rueful chuckle. “Indeed. Those with dark powers who have learned to master his black arts are able to do much damage. He only provides the inspiration. If he were to escape the void, however, that would be another matter entirely.” His expression became distant. “When Morgoth is free, his power is terrible and he is able to unleash things that make Sauron’s hordes seem as tamed beasts.”

Legolas knew his friend was recalling having fought in the wars the Elves and Men had waged against Morgoth in the First Age and he was struck by how much Glorfindel and seen and done in his two lifetimes. He was the last of the First Age Elves left in Middle-Earth with the exception of Celeborn. The eastern Elves had lived such separate lives from the others, they did not share the same history with him and his western kin and so even though some of them may be as old as or older than Glorfindel, they did not share the same heritage.

The ancient Elf suddenly smiled and looked at the prince.

“Your fears are for naught, my friend. True, I believe Charika’s new-found sensitivity may be a result of her brush with death, but I do not believe Morgoth had a hand in it.” Seeing hesitation in Legolas’ eyes he added, “Perhaps if you simply told Rumil and Charika what happened it would ease your misplaced guilt.”

The young Elf thought for a moment then nodded. Glorfindel called Rumil, who was talking with Orophin and Haldir, and the Lorien warden joined them. Legolas told his friend of Morgoth’s attempt to incur his debt. Rumil nodded when Glorfindel added that Morgoth had nothing to do with Charika’s recovery or her new-found talent for communicating with the spirits of the dead. Legolas felt oddly relieved at having told his friend, even though Glorfindel had been reassuring. Haldir and Orophin joined them and the prince felt as though a weight had been lifted; as if the burden he had been under was removed by his friends.

“Perhaps this gift was given to her for a reason,” Orophin suggested. “I do not know what that rationale may be, but surely Eru or the Valar would not have granted it without a purpose.” The others nodded.

“It could be that these atrocities of Morgoth’s needed to be uncovered so the souls of his victims could have peace,” Haldir mused. “We would not have known of them if not for Charika.”

They looked toward the window to the sitting room and saw Charika and Alexandra talking. Glorfindel smiled and motioned for them to join them.

“Then let us ask the lady more about what she experienced. Eru does not grant gifts or lay burdens upon those who are not able to master them.”

When the women arrived in the courtyard, Rumil smiled at Charika and gave her a gentle kiss. “Can you tell us any more about what the shadows showed you last night?” he asked.

She repeated what she had told Alexandra, her eyes occasionally straying to Glorfindel as she spoke. When she told them the shadows were not yet finished showing her what they needed to, Orophin spoke.

“Then perhaps we should follow where they lead.” Rumil raised a brow and started to protest, but Haldir agreed with his other brother.

“Indeed. My lady, you say you feel no threat from these shadows?” She nodded. “Then, if you have no objection, we will accompany you if you are willing to follow them.”

She glanced at Glorfindel who smiled and inclined his head in agreement.

“You do not think me mad?” she asked, unexpectedly. “You are Elves yet you do not see them.”

Legolas, who had accompanied Aragorn and Gimli through the Paths of the Dead just before the Battle of the Pelennor gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

“Elves may see the spirits of the dead, and I have done so; but they are sometimes hidden, even to our sight. We do not doubt that you see what you say you do.”

The eastern woman nodded. “Then come, my lords,” she told them, turning to go back into the keep. Alexandra and the five Elves followed her.

Charika glanced up at the hovering shadows and they once again began to whisper to her, calling her name and begging her to follow them. She listened to them and then began to follow them back down the hallway toward the cellar. Rumil followed her closely, and she felt his support and protection, though she did not feel threatened.

The Elves glanced at each other. None of them could see the shadows, though Glorfindel could sense something, another presence, with them. He felt it … hovered near Charika and caught a glimpse of the dark shadow he had occasionally seen near her; but when he focused on it, it was gone. The woman had told them the sense she had from the shadows of Goroth or his victims was not the same as the one she got from this dark shape.

She opened the door to the cellar without hesitation and Orophin ran swiftly to the kitchen, lighting a candle which they used to light several torches so the utter blackness of the cellar and dungeon would be eased. They followed Charika down into the silent darkness and she led them toward the area where the hidden doorway remained slightly ajar.

Pushing it closed and pressing on the other side of the stone from the way it had opened, she revealed another staircase, this one leading down below the area where they stood. When the doorway opened, the fetid air that rushed out caused Alexandra to gag and the Elves to turn away to regain their composure. Charika did not seem to notice the smell and began to descend the steps, Rumil close behind her with the torch.

“It seems we have found the pit,” Haldir murmured to Legolas who nodded. Alex and Orophin exchanged glances and followed the others, Glorfindel bringing up the rear. The Elf-Lord could still sense the familiar presence but could not see it.

The further they descended into the darkness, the stronger the smell grew. Orophin looked at Alex and thought for a moment she was crying, then realized the stench was causing her eyes to sting and water.

“Does it not bother you?” she asked him as she wiped away the wetness from her cheeks, hoping her nose did not begin to run from the over stimulation of her olfactory nerve.

“Indeed it does,” he replied.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and stood looking in horror and disgust at what the light of their torches revealed. A large pit stood in the center of the room, bodies in various stages of decay piled into it. Some of them were clearly children or infants while others were adults, a few male, but mostly female.

Charika stood and stared over the pit, while the others walked around it, looking at the hundreds of visible bodies.

“There may be thousands in there,” Haldir said. “We do not know how deep it goes.”

“If Goroth did this for thousands of years, then it must be quite deep,” Rumil replied.

Legolas walked closer to the edge where Alexandra looked at the bodies wordlessly. The light from his torch illuminated the bodies closest to them in sharp relief and she suddenly gave a muffled cry and turned away, retching in the corner of the room. Orophin, who was nearby, handed his torch to Glorfindel and supported her as she gagged. When she finally stood, shakily, he put his arm around her until she nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to go.” She turned and went back up the stairs. Orophin watched her go then walked over to where Legolas stood.

“They were trying to climb out,” the prince said as his friend looked down at the bodies lying against the wall, their arms outstretched, fingers still dug into the sides of the pit in a last attempt to claw their way free from their final prison.

The Elves glanced up as Vanurion, Sarendir and Cunion entered the room followed by Helcarin, Pomea, Erestor and Durisia. The looks on the eastern Elves’ faces were unguarded and reflected their disgust, horror and shame.

“Alexandra said you had found this place,” Vanurion whispered. “I---we had to see it.” He, Sarendir and Cunion walked slowly around the pit, looking at the countless bodies.

Pomea closed her eyes as Helcarin put a hand on her back, rubbing it gently. Durisia shook her head then buried her face against Erestor’s chest. The Noldo wrapped his arms around her and softly kissed the top of her head.

The silence was finally broken when Vanurion turned to look at Legolas, and the prince was struck by the raw pain in the Rhunian Elf’s eyes.

“Some of these … they were probably our children.” His gaze returned to the pit and its grisly contents. “Goroth forced us to breed children that he tossed in here like garbage.”

Sarendir nodded. “He did not even give them the chance---give us the chance to take them.” He looked at the others. “We would have taken them, had we known. The children, their mothers. None of these people deserved this.” He swallowed and closed his eyes. “If we had known …” His voice broke and the Elves could see tears silently streaming down his cheeks, matching those on the faces of his brethren.

The western Elves waited until their eastern kin had regained their composure, then followed them up the stairs. Charika had been silent the entire time, seeming not to have noticed the smell of putrefaction that overwhelmed the room. Rumil took her hand and led her from the gruesome scene, glad to be back in the relatively clean air of the cellar.

Legolas found Alexandra in the bathing pool. She glanced up then away as he undressed and joined her, the warm water helping to soothe his troubled thoughts. He wrapped his arms around her and they rested against the stones.

“How could anyone be so …” She could not think of any word bad enough for Goroth.

Her husband shook his head. “I do not know. His actions are despicable. If I had known what he had done, I would not have been so merciful.” His disgust was obvious.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “I’m sorry I became ill,” she said. “I should have been stronger. I just … the smell, and those people who died in that place---it was more than I could take.” She laughed bitterly. “I scrubbed my teeth and my tongue and tried to get the memory of that place out of me. I feel as though I’ve been contaminated by breathing the air down there.”

Legolas kissed her forehead. “I, too, feel tainted by that place. It was unconscionable, what he did. And to know that he was an Elf …” He sighed. “As bad as I feel, think how Vanurion and his bretheren must find this discovery.”

They lapsed into silence, each pondering how this evidence of Goroth’s total disregard for life would affect their eastern friends, and saying their own prayers that Vanurion and the others find the strength to deal with what they had learned, and that the souls of those Goroth abandoned to such a cruel fate would finally find peace.