Gifts of the Valar.

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: 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.

CAST: The usual suspects; the same Elves and OCs who live in the “Valar” universe: Legolas/Alexandra, Rumil/Charika, Orophin/Too-Many-To-Name, Glorfindel/multiple OFCs/Erestor, Haldir/Meriel?, Multiple OC Elves and pretty much everybody.
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The sound of a rider approaching their house caused the Lord of the Elves of Ithilien and his Lady to glance out of the window of their private morning room. They had lingered over breakfast and, after being distracted by feeding each other strawberries by hand, had lost track of time.

Legolas raised his head so he could see the approach to the courtyard and his wife, Alexandra, sat up and peered out as well.

“Who is it?” she asked, putting her arms back into the sleeves of her morning gown and pulling the low, wide neckline back up so it rested on her shoulders. She reached up to smooth her unruly hair and decided it was a lost cause.

“I know not, my love,” her husband replied. He found his tunic where they had flung it into a corner, and slipped it on, tying the laces rapidly. His silvery, silky blonde hair was never out of place, and she felt a familiar shot of envy.

He stood, holding her hands and lifting her to her feet. He tied the laces of her gown so it would not slip back down while they were receiving a visitor, and she glanced significantly at his still-undone leggings. He looked down and, smiling, secured them, giving his wife a quick but solid kiss.

“Shall we go downstairs? No doubt, Balglin will try to keep whoever it is at bay until we do.” The chief steward as well as their friends and the other members of their household knew not to disturb the two of them if they were sequestered together unless it was a dire emergency. Normally, they left their doors open so friends could visit freely. But once the doors closed, Legolas and Alexandra were to be left alone until they chose to emerge. The closed doors were mainly because the lady was inordinately shy at times. If left up to him, her husband would happily join with her on the dining room table in the middle of a state dinner if the mood struck him. For her modesty’s sake, however, he restrained his impulses, though the two of them were constantly touching each other and it was obvious to any who saw them that they were deeply in love.

Walking down the stairs hand-in-hand, they arrived at the bottom just as Balglin was closing the door to the receiving chamber. He smiled in greeting, glad he did not need to knock on their door. Though he was an Elven warrior and a fearsome fighter, he tried to avoid interrupting them whenever possible. The lady’s frustration could sometimes be quite vocal.

“Who visits us today, my friend?” Legolas asked, returning Balglin’s smile.

“I do not know him myself, though there is something familiar about him. He appears to be an Elf of the Noldor, called Helcarin, and he has come to pay his respects on his journey east.”

Legolas thought for a moment. “I do not recognize his name either. However, we shall certainly be happy to greet any of our brethren.” He opened the door and walked in, Alex at his side.

The Elf was standing in front of one of the bookshelves, looking at the lined-up volumes. He was tall, as were all Elves, with the same sort of lithe, muscular body shared by Elven males. He was dressed simply, in dark gray leggings with black suede boots, a lighter gray tunic with a long-sleeved, deep burgundy jacket patterned with silver threads. He wore black leather braces on his wrists. No weapons were in evidence, though there had to be at least a dagger somewhere on his person.

He turned at their entrance and, smiling, bowed respectfully, touching his hand to his chest. He had the undeniable beauty of the Eldar and his smile was open and good-natured. His slightly dark, perfectly arched brows highlighted eyes of a deep, almost midnight blue, reminding Legolas and Alexandra of someone … they just were unsure of whom, at the moment. His hair was a beautiful shade of gold, hinting at possible Vanyar blood, much like Glorfindel’s silky locks. He wore it loose, with only a couple of thin braids on each side, which hung down, framing his face.

Legolas returned his gesture of greeting.

“Mae govannen, Helcarin. Welcome to Ithilien. My wife, Alexandra.”

“Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion and to your lady. Thank you for receiving me.” His voice was well-timbered, reminding Alex a bit of Haldir, but without the arrogance of the March Warden of Lorien.

“Of course. All of our brethren are welcome in Ithilien.”

“Has your journey been long?” Alex asked. She poured their guest a goblet of wine, which he accepted with a nod of thanks.

“Actually, it has, my lady.” He sat in the comfortable chair his host indicated, as Legolas and Alex settled onto the couch. He noted they sat close together, the lady’s hand lightly resting on her husband’s knee and his arm draped easily about her shoulders. He had heard the Elven prince and his mortal wife were perfectly matched. He could sense their utter devotion to one another and it made him smile.

“I have been in the far north of Middle-Earth for some time, beyond the Misty Mountains. I had thought to depart from the Grey Havens, but could not bring myself to leave Middle-Earth just yet. There is so much more to see and do. I am afraid I may wind up being one of those who lingers until I fade. Perhaps I shall find a nice, quiet spot to haunt and simply remain there.” His laugh was easy and they could see he seemed to be one of natural good humor.

“I understand your reluctance to leave, my friend,” Legolas said, with a chuckle. He glanced at his wife. “I too cannot depart these shores---I am a willing prisoner of my heart.” He lifted the hand she had laid upon his knee and kissed it before entwining his fingers with hers.

“I can see you are enjoying your captivity,” their guest said, saluting the couple with his goblet.

“Balglin says you are traveling to the east?” So far, Alex’s impression was that only bad things were in the east. She could not imagine an Elf wishing to go there.

“Yes. I have never been to Harad, or Khand.” He laughed. “I have never even been to Mordor, and it has been the seat of much excitement over the past few thousand years.”

“Indeed,” Legolas replied. He and Alex had seen more of Mordor than they would like. “It is a desolate place and the evil of the past still haunts it.”

“So I have been told,” their guest acknowledged. “I have also heard there are more of our kind in Rhun. I must admit, I was surprised to learn Elves survived without all being overcome and becoming Orc.”

They were surprised he knew of the eastern Elves. They were somewhat reclusive and had only recently been venturing into the west.

“Where did you hear of the Rhunian Elves?” Alex was not shy about asking their guest. “They were completely unknown to everyone here until just a couple of years ago. I’m surprised word of them managed to reach so far north.”

He turned his dark blue gaze on her. “From my fathers. Their most recent message mentioned their discovery.”

His choice of words struck them as odd, but neither knew quite how to question him about it. They continued to speak of minor pleasantries, and Legolas invited him to remain in their house as a guest for a while, until he desired to continue his journey.

Helcarin thanked them for the offer. He seemed about to say something more when another visitor appeared, walking through the garden outside of the receiving room. Their guest paused, his words silenced as he studied the Elf who was heading toward the house. A smile of recognition lit up his face.

“Saelbeth?” he asked, as Legolas’ kinsman and chief counselor approached the veranda.

The handsome, blonde Elf stopped and looked at Helcarin with surprise. Then, a slow smile spread across his face and he raced up the steps and into the house.

“Helcarin! By the Valar, I had not expected to see you here.” The two embraced as old friends as Legolas and his wife exchanged bemused looks. “What brings you to Ithilien?”

“I am exploring the east and wished to visit with our kin before everyone eventually passes over to the west,” he replied. He turned to his hosts. “Forgive me, Lord Legolas, Lady Alexandra. I have not seen Saelbeth since I was just beyond the elfling stage.”

“You cannot be much past that now,” replied the counselor. He belatedly greeted Legolas and Alexandra, who laughed. Their friends came and went in their house, much as they pleased, treating it as if it was their own. Haldir and his brothers ate almost every meal with them, and their other friends often joined as well. Saelbeth and another of the Rivendell Elves, Glorfindel, the ancient Elf-Lord of Gondolin, were frequently to be found at Legolas and Alexandra’s table, when not out getting into mischief, usually involving wine and females. The two had known each other for millennia, Saelbeth having grown up in Imladris, where Glorfindel was the Marshal for Lord Elrond’s realm.

“Have you seen Glorfindel or Erestor?” Saelbeth asked the younger Elf.

He shook his head. “No. I wished to pay my respects to Prince Legolas and his lady first.”

“Glorfindel came through and ate something earlier this morning,” Alex informed them. “But I haven’t seen him since. And I haven’t seen Erestor in a couple of days.”

“He is, no doubt, shut away in his library,” her husband replied. “I believe Elladan and Elrohir brought him a new set of books from Minas Tirith that he has been restoring for them.”

“That sounds like him,” Helcarin said, with a chuckle. “He is happiest when he is surrounded by books.”

“Come. I will take you to his house,” Saelbeth said. Helcarin looked to Legolas and Alexandra, who stood.

“Go and visit. Should you wish to remain here, return whenever you please. We do not stand on ceremony in Ithilien,” Legolas said with a smile.

Helcarin bowed to his hosts and accompanied Saelbeth out the side door, soon disappearing into the garden.

Husband and wife exchanged curious looks.

“Well, this is quite interesting,” Alex said. “Does he remind you of anyone?”

“He does look vaguely familiar, but I am unable to recall just who, at the moment,” Legolas said absently, as he rubbed his hand over her back, “Although Saelbeth seems to know him and, apparently, so do Glorfindel and Erestor. Of course, if he was born in Rivendell, they would all know each other.”

“He doesn’t seemed that concerned with traveling to the Undying Lands,” she mused, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of her husband’s hand on her back. “What did he mean about staying until he faded and haunting something?” Alex loved a spooky story.

“Elves who remain in Middle-Earth and do not cross the sea will eventually fade. Their spirit will become strong, and overwhelm their body. They will become shadows.”

She shuddered. She did not like to think of her husband and his kin leaving for Valinor; the entire concept made her feel indescribably sad; still, she did not care for the alternative, if it was to condemn them to an eternity of ‘haunting’ something. She said as much.

“No. We are bound to Arda and unless we go to Mandos, we will be trapped here until the ending of the world. Elves who do not answer Mandos’ call are also caught here. They are called the Houseless. They are spirits without bodies. Some fall into shadow. Glorfindel and Saelbeth believe they are the spirits which become imprisoned in the werewolves and the vampires, and who become the shadow figures.”

They had recently had dealings with those evil entities and Alex suppressed a shudder. She loved her husband and had grown to love his people; in fact, she was more at home among the Elves than mortals, most of the time. However, when she thought on how Legolas and his kind were virtually immortal: they did not even die as mortals did when killed, but simply went to the Halls of Waiting; she could not help but have an odd feeling. But her love for her husband overrode any discomfort such consideration might cause. Still, it was when she pondered the mystical properties of the Elves, that she was reminded she was not one of them and could not always share every part of her husband’s immortal life.

As always, when her thoughts turned to the fate of her husband’s kin, she felt sadness. More than anything she wanted to share eternity with him; but the fate of Men differed from the fate of Elves and, once she died, which would likely be long before him, they would be parted. She prayed every day that she at least be allowed to watch over him from wherever she ended up.

Legolas could sense the change in his wife’s mood and put his arms around her.

“I love you, my wife; you are a gift from the Valar; the most precious gift they could give to me.” He kissed her gently and she laid her head on his shoulder. He held her and her fears eased in the safety of his embrace.