Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness

Chapter XVIII

It was a sight unseen since the events that forged the Last Alliance of Elves and Men at the end of the Second Age and sent its armies into brutal conflict with the unholy forces of Mordor. The Elven-king of the Woodland Realm of Greenwood the Great astride his sleek destrier outside the bounds of his forest kingdom. Thranduil rode as if born to the saddle, tall and straight and confident upon his steed. Fair as a summer day yet cool as an autumn eve, he gave no hint of his thoughts or feelings either by motion or expression. Not even his sons could guess at them when he chose to conceal them.



He looked ahead to two of said sons where they rode near the front of the woodland contingent. Galvreth and Legolas also bore themselves with the easy grace of natural horsemen. Even more than their sire it seemed for they also had the inborn Silvan affinity for animal life and like the Wood-elven warriors about them were at utmost ease without saddle or reins.



Thranduil took note of the proud carriage of their forms, how both comported themselves with regal dignity. But he also knew that while Galvreth looked straight ahead, eyes bright and alert to his surroundings, Legolas' gaze was downcast and his sunny smile absent from his lips, telling of his dour mood. It had been so for the past week since the awful discovery of misconduct within the family ranks and the subsequent preparations for this fraught journey.



He glanced behind him, to the group of warriors that enclosed yet another son. Nimaras rode in their midst not as their prince but for all intents and purposes as a royal prisoner. Gilthalion, the Woodland Realm's valiant captain, rode at his side with stern purpose. He could be trusted not to let his sympathy for the fifth-born prince or his instinctive loyalty to any one of his king's children override the carrying out of his orders. And he would not reveal the reason for Nimaras' present straits to his soldiers. To do so would be to betray his lover's trust and Gilthalion's devotion to Aelluin was too deep to tempt him into transgression.



Thranduil's tight smile as he turned back to regard the nigh treeless plains that loomed before them would have been indicative of his mixed emotions had any chanced to glimpse it. Some good had come of the rent in his family at the very least. He had convinced Aelluin to confess his liaison with Gilthalion and formally welcomed the captain into the familial fold. It was a good match. Come the day that Aelluin became king, he would have his own mate to aid him in his rule over the forest kingdom. That his intended mate was also the Woodland Realm's fearsome captain was another ample blessing. His heir was most fortunate indeed.



His eyes alighted on Legolas and Galvreth once more. Unfortunately, he could not say the same for either. As matters stood, wedlock with the princes of the Woodland Realm might no longer be desired by Elrond and his lady for any of their children. He could not blame them if this was so. Their younger son had suffered quite needlessly at the hands of two of his own. Bearing first unwarranted shame and guilt because of Nimaras' reprehensible actions, Elrohir had then been dealt the unkindest cut by Legolas.



Granted that Legolas had been hurting as well, the knowledge could do little to mitigate the pain his words had inflicted on the Elf-knight. Thranduil did not know just how Elrohir fared at present but the king could well imagine him nursing his wounds in the bosom of his family and attempting to put the past behind and move on with his life however difficult the process may be.



He inwardly shook his head. Ah, how could something that had begun with so much promise and later evolved into a thing of joy and inspiration have ended on such a horrid note? Thranduil refused to succumb to the numbing mistake of self-castigation but he could not wholly shake off the regret that one of his progeny had borne so little love for his brother that he'd had no compunction about breaking the latter's heart or bringing ruin to the one who had held it. Fëanor was not the only Elf capable of fostering fraternal friction or raising a hand against a sibling.



His thoughts travelled back to that day of wrenching discovery. To Legolas' 50th begetting day.



It had started not on a bright note but on a discordant one. Little more than an hour after Elladan and Elrohir's hurried departure, Thranduil received an urgent request from Aelluin to meet with him in the king's study. Hardly had Thranduil settled himself behind his desk when Galvreth walked in, a scowling Legolas in tow and a bewildered Lalorn taking up the rear. Before the king could inquire as to what merited such a hasty meeting, in strode Aelluin and Elivorn, holding Nimaras between them with a marked lack of tenderness.



“Sire, there is something Nimaras has to say,” Aelluin announced without preamble. He looked straight at Legolas and added: “And you would do well to listen, brother.”



Elivorn shoved Nimaras forward none to gently. “Speak!” he sternly commanded. “Tell Father what you told us.”



Thranduil said nothing but pointedly waited for Nimaras to begin. Under that weighty regard, the bronze-haired prince had no recourse but to do as he was bid.



It proved a terrible tale and a lengthy one for Nimaras halted in many places and would only continue when either Aelluin or Elivorn prodded him. By the end of it, Thranduil wanted to weep from grief that a child of his should be capable of such duplicity and malice.



It was true that Nimaras had come upon Elrohir in the upper story hallway of the Last Homely House's residential wing that fateful eve. True that he had suggested that he and the Elf-knight help each other navigate the corridor to their rooms. And true that Elrohir had proved unable to walk further on his own power forcing Nimaras to carry him onward. But there the truth diverged from the original story Nimaras had woven.



Elrohir had not been conscious of being turned over and checked for a worse ailment than inebriation. Nor had he been aware of the comely and altogether tempting picture he made even in a drunken stupor as he lay cradled in Nimaras' arms. The prince had not been able to resist stealing a kiss, a forbidden caress with one who was already promised to another. In that instant, overwhelming envy, anger and lust had taken hold of him.



Why had so beauteous a creature been bestowed on a mere babe? All these years he'd been forced to watch Elrohir practically raise his little brother while he, a full-grown Elf capable of carrying on a normal liaison forthwith, had languished on the side, nursing an impossible attraction to the Elf-knight. It was so unfair! And then Legolas had had the temerity to boast that Elrohir, though far from untouched, had kept himself unsullied in one respect and only awaited Legolas' majority to at last yield himself to another.



Seething with a myriad emotions, none of them worthy of a scion of Oropher's line, he bore Elrohir to his quarters instead with the intent of plucking what was intended for Legolas. He laid him on his bed, stripped him and perused the prize he'd long desired. The last he had seen Elrohir unclothed had been many years ago, ere the onset of Legolas' adolescence. Beholding him now in all his bared glory served to whet his desire ever more acutely.



Through much hemming and hawing, Nimaras admitted to molesting Elrohir while he lay unaware and defenseless. He could not help it, he cravenly claimed, so splendid an image the Peredhel made lying upon his sheets, his flesh sweet to taste and smooth to touch.



Thranduil would never forget the horror and rage in his youngest son's eyes as the confession unfolded or the disgust and shame in the stares of the others. Galvreth and Lalorn had duly flanked Legolas lest he suddenly launch himself at Nimaras in a murderous fit. Only one question and one answer stayed such an action.



“Did you violate him then?” Thranduil demanded, his voice steely.



“Nay, I did not,” Nimaras mutteringly replied. “I may have gone to such a wretched extent but I could not bring myself to take him all unknowing.”



“But you claimed your sheets soiled with spending,” Legolas sharply reminded him. “And Elrohir is no fool to believe something without evidence to support it.”



Nimaras' mouth twisted, disliking having to answer Legolas. “I did not take him,” he finally reiterated. “But I was badly in need of relief.” He paused then grudgingly said, “I rutted against him a few times.”



Legolas let out a muffled oath, clenching his fists so tightly his nails left half-moon marks in his palms. Galvreth clapped a restraining hand on his shoulder.



“Why then did you leave Elrohir to believe that you had coupled?” Thranduil asked.



Nimaras looked away. “It salved my frustration some,” he conceded.



“Salved?” Thranduil repeated caustically. “You cared not for what Elrohir would suffer under that false assumption?”



“I was more concerned with how Legolas would respond once he knew,” Nimaras said.



The king stared at him, perplexed for a moment. And then his eyes widened in perturbation. “You hoped your brother would cast him away and break their troth!”



“Which he readily did without ever giving Elrohir a chance to explain his side I wager,” Nimaras shot back, a hint of a sneer in his tone.



Legolas' angry glare gave way to uncertainty then faltered into one of shame. He looked down, cheeks crimsoning at the memory of that unhappy night.



“School your tongue!” Thranduil roared, eyes flinty and cold. It was enough to make Nimaras fear his father for the first time in memory. “If that was your objective, why did you not speak up sooner? Why the pretense of only recently recalling what happened?”



Nimaras pursed his lips then reluctantly said: “Legolas would not believe me but he would believe Elrohir. Yet I saw how loath Elrohir was to confess the morn after. And I thought then that a delay would serve my purpose far more effectively. The longer he took to speak, the more guilty he would appear in Legolas' eyes and the more assured I would be of his reaction.”



“Why did you preempt him that night?” Galvreth asked. “He was going to tell Legolas at last.”



“It seemed the perfect opportunity,” Nimaras replied with a shrug. “And… I wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face,” he suddenly spat, training a venomous glower on Legolas.



Legolas' doleful feelings gave way to renewed umbrage, taking offense at the undeserved bile his brother heaped on him, and he started forward. Only Lalorn's quick grab at his arm and his whispered, “Show yourself the better Elf, brother!” kept him in place. He locked gazes with Nimaras, a fierce scowl darkening his countenance. “Heed our father's warning lest 'tis your wish to perish at my hands!” he grated out, his eyes blazing with fury.



“Legolas!” Thranduil admonished him mildly. Once Legolas subsided somewhat, the king looked at Nimaras, his gaze glacial. “You have sinned greatly against so many. Not only Elrohir and Legolas but also against every citizen of this realm. For if word gets out of your deed, we shall be judged to an Elf by our cousins in other lands and none would trust us again with the possibility of treachery hounding our very name! You will have brought the honor of this kingdom low, Nimaras, and all on account of your accursed envy of one you should have cherished instead.” He regarded Nimaras' slight pallor then sighed and sat back tiredly in his chair. “I cannot let this go unpunished though you are my own flesh and blood. But before I pass judgment on you I would try to redress one wrong soonest.” He motioned to Elivorn to approach. “Send scouts after the brethren,” he instructed his dark-haired son. “They may yet overtake them ere they leave Eryn Galen. Then return here for I would take counsel with you and Aelluin as to what must be done with your brother.”



He then bade Galvreth and Lalorn to escort Nimaras to his quarters and charged them with guarding him. When they departed he turned his full attention to Legolas and found him leaning against Aelluin, trembling badly and on the brink of tears.



“Hên vuil”-dear child-he murmured, rising and opening his arms to his youngest. Legolas swiftly went into them.



“What have I done, Ada?”-Papa?-he whispered against his father's shoulder. “He never treated me with aught but kindness and I repaid him with cruelty. Ah, what will I do now?”



The king could not know what words had passed between Legolas and Elrohir but from the frantic manner in which his son clutched at him, he assumed they had been greatly injurious indeed.



“You will humble yourself before him and beg his forgiveness,” Thranduil said. He drew away and firmly gripped his fearful son by his arms. “And you will trust to his love and understanding and the pull of your own bountiful charms to win him anew. But until the moment you meet with him again, you must becalm yourself. This eve you have an obligation to fulfill and you will conduct yourself as a prince of this kingdom. Therefore, go now and compose yourself that you may appear before our people as befits your station. I do not expect you to make merry but I do demand a show of amiability and gratitude before our guests for honoring your coming-of-age with their presence and felicitations.”



Legolas swallowed hard, nodded and left to do as he was told. Thranduil somberly watched him go. Had there ever been a more lamentable way to greet one's majority? He looked at Aelluin when the latter came up beside him.



“How did you persuade him to confess?” he asked his eldest curiously.



Aelluin smiled bitterly. “Surprisingly, it was not all that difficult once we made our suspicions clear to him. For so long as he thought no one knew or suspected the truth, he could lie to us through his teeth. But when we lay before him what we believed truly happened, he fell apart. I admit it astounded us how swiftly he capitulated.”



Thranduil nodded knowingly. “He realized you would see the lie in his eyes once you knew what to look for,” he said. “Wherefore his continued deception if you could see through his deceit?”



He noted Aelluin's doleful expression, signifying his regret at having had to unmask a falsehearted sibling however just his actions. He felt a surge of pride in this so very satisfactory heir to his throne. His lips quirked the smallest bit in faint amusement, startling Aelluin.



“Charge Gilthalion with the guarding of Nimaras,” he said. “You may tell him what transpired, I know he will keep it secret. Best we entrust this shame to one who will be family ere long.”



Aelluin started then gaped at him in shock. Finally he stammered, “You - you know, Ada?”



“What do you take me for?” Thranduil wryly retorted. “Deaf and blind? I have known since your first assignation and have only been waiting for you to own up to your affair. I take it you forbade Gilthalion to tell me?”



Uncharacteristically flustered, Aelluin nodded dumbly, explaining his prior reticence only when his father silently demanded it with an arch of his eyebrows.



“I feared you would disapprove,” he admitted, “and furthermore blame him for seducing me when in truth-”



“'Twas you who chased him without cease and all but cornered him into taking you to his bed,” Thranduil finished for him. “Ai, if there is one quality you all seem to share, 'tis mule-headedness in the pursuit of your desires. Well then, summon him and make it clear that he will not lose his head for having lain with a king's son.”



Thranduil's moment of mirth faded as he considered the events that had followed. He consulted with his two eldest, one the heir apparent, the other the chief counselor in training, as to the appropriate penalty to be levied on Nimaras. It proved a most painful discussion for whatever dismay or revulsion they might have felt for Nimaras' deed, he was still their kin and it tore at their hearts to now see him chastised like a common miscreant.



The king put off informing his errant son of his judgment until the following morn. First, there was a celebration to take care of. Mayhap the Elf in whose honor it was to be held no longer felt there was reason to celebrate but Thranduil knew Legolas would abide his duty to the best of his ability and he would help him in the abiding of it as much as he could.



There was no hiding the fact that something was not quite right that night. For one, Nimaras' glaring absence was noticed. For another, Legolas could not summon the smile with which he oft dazzled his varied suitors and admirers though he was graciousness personified throughout the revels. Nor did he indicate a desire to mark his majority in intimate company with some nubile maid or strapping lad. Lastly, the royal family seemed subdued in mood for so festive an occasion.



Many subscribed the youngest prince's muted cheer and lack of libido to the aborted visit of his erstwhile intended. Whatever the cause of their broken troth, none expected Legolas to get over a relationship that had spanned most of his childhood and all of his adolescence and maturing years so soon or easily. As for Nimaras, well, it was no secret that he and Legolas had never truly gotten along and an altercation between the two became the prime suspect for the bronze-haired prince's non-appearance. Consequently, it was thought that perhaps the rest were not in the best of spirits due to the lack of amicability within their ranks. Neither Thranduil nor his sons bothered to disabuse anyone of these contentions.



Come morning, the Elven-king pronounced judgment on his fifth-born. Only Aelluin accompanied him to Nimaras' apartment where Gilthalion and his most trusted and least inquisitive warriors kept guard.



Once within Nimaras' sleeping chamber, the king made his decision known. “You will depart Greenwood,” he decreed with a heavy heart. “You will ride to Imladris where you will beg forgiveness of he whom you wronged and pray he does not slit your throat afore you are done. Thence, you will go to Mithlond and take ship to Aman where you will enter servitude in the household of my kinsman Olwë. Mayhap by the time we should all meet again, you will have reflected on your misdeeds and repented of them.”



Nimaras was appalled. He threw himself down before his sire, disbelieving that Thranduil could put aside the bonds of parent and child and set him upon so punitive a path. For to an Elf of purely Silvan bent, the thought of leaving these Hither Shores for the unknown, unwanted mystery that was Valinor to live amongst a folk who were as alien to him as the metal-loving Dwarves was nigh anathema. But Thranduil was adamant and would not be moved by anger or tears or evidence of fear.



“You would exile me?” Nimaras gasped.



“I warrant the Peredhil would deem it too lenient a punishment,” the king pointed out. “You have gone too far, Nimaras. No Elf of the House of Oropher has ever committed so vile a deed as to covet another's promised and, worse, act on it. Be grateful that your brothers still love you else their counsel on what punishment to mete you would likely have been harsher.



“But I did not take him, Ada!”



Thranduil grasped him by the shoulders and shook him hard. “Do you still not understand the enormity of your transgression? You may not have breached his body but you still violated him when you took liberties while he could not defend himself. And had he imbibed just enough to render him pliant for your needs and not insensible, you would not have hesitated to bed him and flaunted that coup to your brother evermore. Do not deny it! Had you not feared condemnation for taking an Elf without due complicity you would not have stayed yourself.”



When a stunned Nimaras could not dissent, Thranduil heaved a weary sigh, his ire giving way to sorrow. He would lose yet another son and this time by his own hand. His cobalt eyes glittering with unshed tears, the Elven-king turned and strode out of the silent chamber.



“Ah, I had not thought our family would ever be rent asunder and in such grievous fashion,” he sadly remarked to Aelluin afterward. “Now let us hope our scouts managed to convince the gwenyn to return.”



But upon arriving back that afternoon, said scouts reported that the twins and their escort must have ridden hard and fast and that they had been unable to catch up with them. Noting Legolas' stricken expression, Thranduil quickly made a decision. He addressed his gathered sons.



“We leave within a sennight, Legolas. I wish to personally conduct your brother hence. You may accompany us, Galvreth, if 'tis your desire. Aelluin, you will stand as Regent while I am gone. Elivorn and Lalorn will assist you. Inform Gilthalion of this and tell him that he is to select warriors to escort us who know enough to ask no questions beyond what duty permits them.”



The Elven-king abruptly came out of his musings when Galvreth and Legolas slowed their steeds to flank him. He looked ahead expectantly, aware that they had crossed the invisible boundary in this relatively empty region of Eriador that marked Elrond Half-elven's area of jurisdiction. Soon enough, they recognized the captain who led the troop of Elves that came forward to meet them. There was no mistaking the golden hair of Glorfindel of Rivendell where it streamed from beneath his helm. Right behind him rode his lieutenant, his raven hair twisted into a familiar single plait.



Thranduil wondered: 'Elladan or Elrohir?' Glancing at both Galvreth and Legolas, he quickly had his answer. Galvreth could not quite stifle the elation in his brown eyes while Legolas dropped his gaze and stared forlornly at his hands on his horse's mane. Elladan then. How these two sons of his could tell the brothers apart so swiftly and accurately was a mystery to their sire but Thranduil did not doubt their acuity in this matter.



Glorfindel hailed the Elven-king deferentially as soon as they were near enough to greet each other without raising their voices. Elladan respectfully bowed his head but did not speak, deferring to Glorfindel as the leader of the troop.



“What brings you so far from home, my lord king?” the Elf-warrior inquired. “And in such haste it would seem.”



“I wish to bring a matter of import before Elrond soonest,” Thranduil replied. “And make amends as well.”



He gestured with a tilt of his head to the rear. He did not take note of Glorfindel's reaction upon espying Nimaras but Elladan's. The older twin's face in general revealed little but a welter of emotions flickered in his grey eyes. He had leveled a quick but warm gaze on Galvreth earlier. It noticeably cooled when he trained it on Legolas but no evidence of hostility was there to be seen. However, his eyes widened ever so slightly when he laid them on Nimaras. A moment later, they hardened and when he stared pointedly at Legolas grew positively frosty. Thranduil shrewdly guessed what thoughts passed through the older twin's mind.



The woodland party's sudden journey to Rivendell with Nimaras under tight guard and Thranduil's sparse elucidation bespoke the discovery of wrongdoing by the bronze-haired prince. And against no other possible Elf of Imladris save Elrohir. In which case, Elladan would deduce and rightly so that this could only mean that Legolas' retaliatory treatment of his twin had been largely or even wholly uncalled for and Elrohir's current suffering pointless.



Thranduil saw his youngest son wilt further under that arctic gaze. The king grimly pursed his lips. If Elladan's reaction was any indication of his twin's current state, Legolas would have no easy time winning back Elrohir's regard. The balance of power to mend or rend had tilted drastically. Legolas' hopes and happiness now lay in Elrohir's hands. In his capacity to understand and forgive and love. Or not.



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Glossary:

destrier - warhorse or knight's charger (archaic)

wherefore - for what reason or purpose (archaic)

Peredhel (pl. Peredhil) - Half-elf/Half-elven

gwenyn - twins

sennight - abbreviation of seven nights; defunct Middle English term for a week



To be continued…