Beginning of the End

"Reasons"


Another petty fight... More nights spent alone... I fear I have become quite used to this, as of late. Laurefindel and I cannot make peace, it seems, and my upcoming expedition has caused him to look upon me with the eyes of a stranger. I would struggle and I would weep, for the pain of losing him little by little has cast a shadow over my heart that only his love could chase away. But the injustice of his reasons is so revolting that I have come to my wit's end while trying to understand him and convince him otherwise.

"My lord, Erestor?..." the gentle voice of prince Legolas shakes me from my unhappy musings. He is seated across my desk, absentmindedly playing with his glass of wine, while his bright eyes are fixed upon me in a look of honest concern. I would expect any prince to be annoyed by the lack of respect shown to him by a mere Adviser distracted by his own gloomy thoughts when he should be paying attention to the conversation. But not this one.

"I... forgive me, Legolas. I did not mean to drift away like that." I give him an apologetic smile, sipping on my wine and trying to remember exactly what we were talking about.

"No matter, I understand your distraction. Your mind must be on the journey you are going to take soon."

A faint blush colors his cheeks. "I did not mean to meddle of be idiscreet." he says. " But I have heard Elrohir and Elladan talking about him and I couldn't help asking."

"You did not meddle, Legolas." I have not seen an Elf of royal blood bear himself so humbly and insist that even the house maids or stable boys call him by his name only. If I did not know him to be royalty, an archer and hunter of great renown, I would easily mistake him for one of my shy librarians or a gentle healer. "There is no secret. I have not hidden the purpose of my journey and you need not worry that I would be in any way offended by your curiosity." I hurry to assure him.

The blush deepens and I can easily notice it "Then it is true. You are really going to search for Maglor."

I find myself cringing in anticipation of a reproachful look or some reprimanding words. But there is only an excited curiosity on my companion's face. I simply nod, waiting for him to say something.

Blue eyes sparkling with something that I could call hope, he places his glass on the desk and leans towards me."Then you believe that he still lives?"

"I do. I would know if he were no longer among the living."

There it is, again, that awed curiosity, mingled with unmistakable hope. It intrigues me. It raises many questions that threaten to spill from my lips. But I must hold myself together and not give in to the childish enthusiasm of discovering someone open and willing to discuss such things.

"But... where would you start looking? And if he still lives, why does he not seek anybody." The prince voices the same question that I have been forced to answer several times, faced with giving the the same agonizing answer "I do not know". Though a part of me does understand, I do not have the strength to pour out all the reasons why and I do not know if they would fall upon deaf ears this time as well. So I answer with another question.

"Legolas... forgive me, I do not wish to be rude, but why do you want to know?"

"I am sorry. If it is too personal, I am the one to apologize." He quickly recoils and leans back in his chair, as if he were ashamed of his own boldness.

"No, no. Not at all. It is personal, yes, but I should not subject you to my suspicion. It is often painful for me to think about the people in my past. More so when it comes to speaking of them. But not because I have something to hide, something that I am ashamed of or simply because I wish to keep the privacy. I ask you why you wish to know about Maglor because I would not hear another person telling me that the search is hopeless and he is hopeless. If you wish to discourage me, I am very sorry, but I will not listen." I state dryly and finish my drink, setting the goblet on the desk with a hollow thud.

"No! No, my Lord Erestor! I would never do that. I am hardly in the position to say such things. Even less so, considering that I do not think your quest hopeless. I do hope that you find Maglor and he does deserve to be found. No Elf should ever bear the burden of such loneliness." My young companion quickly reassures me, looking hopeful once again. It would be a fascinating to just sit back and watch the changing expressions on his face.

"Legolas... you mean it?" I ask him and I believe that my own, usually guarded expression has cracked into something less composed.

"Yes, I do. But why would you doubt it?" The naivete in those words almost makes me smile.

"Well...Surely you must know that there are few of our people who look upon my past and my plans with favour." I say, while trying to fight the ironic smirk.

"Yes. That I know. But I am not one of those. In fact, I had hoped that, by bringing up this subject, I could approach you with some questions."

There, he has managed to surprise me again, in a matter of minutes.

"Ah, Legolas, you need not bring up any subjects to ask me questions."

"Yes... forgive me, I shouldn't have said that. But...ah, since I seem prone to embarrassing myself, I will confess that I have been told you are not always willing to answer such questions." He finishes with a shy smile, looking up at me.

"You have been told that?... Funny, I would have thought that my role as scholar and Adviser is exactly answering questions. But no matter. You can ask me anything. I am, in fact, flattered that you should come to me."

"You, my Lord, are the best person I could come to. What I wish is to learn more about the times of old. But not from history books." He tells me, while busying himself with the task of refilling our goblets.

"You wish to listen to somebody who was actually there?" I state the almost obvious, intrigued by his request.

"Yes."

"Then why not ask Glorfindel? He is always willing to recall the splendors of his ancient Kingdom. Or Galadriel and Celeborn. I'm sure they could tell you wondrous tales of Nargothrond and Doriath."

"I have. And I have heard tales that had my childhood dreams filled with golden heroes and legendary kingdoms. My father has described Doriath to me in detail and I have drawn hundreds of sketches, even as he spoke." Legolas remembers with a fond look on his youthful face. However, his expression changes yet again, to a serious, determined look, as he hands me my drink." But it is not enough," he says.

"It may not be, but how could I help you? Surely your father remembers Doriath better than I do." I cannot help but grimace, as the mere mention of Thingol's kingdom brings back a flood of memories that I are still painful to recall.

"He may remember it better. But I do not wish to ask you about Doriath. Or Gondolin. Nay, I wish to learn more about Himring. And Himlad. And Thargelion."

"Legolas?" I whisper coarsely, taken aback by what he has just said.

"Yes. You might be surprised to hear this, but I really want to know. And everyone I have asked so far either knows very little or would not remember."

"Well, I don't suppose Galadriel would wish to speak about those places."

"Or the people who once inhabited them," he adds. "Even if she would wish to speak, I believe her memories would be of little use to me."

I do hope Legolas does not speak of Galadriel in such a disrespectful manner only because he believes that might please me.

"I wish to know the truth, Erestor," the young Elf suddenly erupts. "The whole truth. I want someone to tell me how the other side lived, what they were like..."

"'The other side?'" I ask, interrupting his passionate reply.

"Yes. Oh, forgive me. I did not mean it like that. It's just... these are not my words." I am almost satisfied to see him flustered once again.

"But we were the other side, were we not? The villains, the destroyers... the murderers."

"So I have been told. But that could not have been all of it. You are just as much an Elf as I am. Much more, even. And I cannot believe that any Elf could be evil."

There is so much sincerity in his words that my heart is suddenly pounding in my chest. Of all the places and all the people, this gentle prince is the last person I would have ever expected to say such words to me. I blink at him, still surprised, trying to compose an answer. He must sense my inner turmoil, despite my effort to conceal it behind a calm appearance, because he is quick to go on.

"I cannot even begin to imagine what you must have gone through, what choices you have been forced to make and how hard it must have been for you. So how could I pass judgment? And how could I accept being told that Feanor and his followers were all wicked and at the root of all the evil things that have plagued Elfkind in the First Age? How, when I know for a fact that it was not so and that my own existence serves to prove otherwise?"

Again, I am awed, not so much by his words but by the passion behind them. In the blink of an eye I try to figure out why Legolas would believe that his life is so closely connected to my Lords and myself. And it comes back to me with the same ease that I can recall the events of this day or the one before. Oropher! And young Thranduil, a frightened, shy boy whom I have seen but briefly when Maedhros had asked that we give father and son the means and supplies to journey out of Doriath. The bold, royal, often haughty Elf that Thranduil was quickly forced into growing barely remembers me as I was back then. I may very well be just another grim face, another pair of bloody hands in a long line of aggressors. And it may be better this way, though I have never heard one unkind word from the Mirkwood King. Nor has he ever looked unkindly upon me.

My silence must seem strange, and Legolas breaks it with the most unexpected words, as though he can read my mind.

"I see that I must indeed earn your trust before I can learn anything form you. Adar has warned me of this and so has Lord Elrond." Saying this, the prince offers me a sweet, half-apologetic smile. "I truly am sorry that you have been forced into silence about your past and the people that you have held dear by unsympathetic, unfair voices. Well, mine is not one of them. And I if you think my desire to learn more about Feanor and his people is a little... strange, well, then I must be a little strange. Besides, how can I believe that the Feanorians were mean, ruthless creatures, when my own father has told me that they can also be kind, loving and just as vulnerable to pain as anyone else?"

"Even more so, Legolas, even more so. But... how does your father know these things?" with a twinge of guilt, I feign no knowledge of these events. My only excuse, though a poor one, is wishing to hear Thranduil's story as he has related it to his son, without influencing Legolas in any way. The thought that this is so important to me is rather unsettling, but so many things have been unsettling as of late that I have nearly become used to it.


"Adar was there, in Doriath. Surely you must know this. Adar says that he remembers your face, that you had given him the reins of a horse when he and the others had left the City." In an almost childish manner, Legolas calls out my lie and I am forced to mend things quickly.

"Yes, I remember that. And, looking back on it now, I find it less hard to believe that the little boy who looked at me with big, bright eyes is a king today. And that he has a wonderful son like you, Legolas. Still, what makes him say that the brothers were not terrible foes? After all, we did destroy their home and kill their king."

"That is true. And very unfortunate. Those were terrible times and you were cursed. That's what I have been told." He calmly answers me, as if we were not talking about the violent death of so many people.

"We were cursed. Some of us still are" is all I can say.


"But no less kind, for all the blood spilled by your hands!" he quickly steps in, fending off my last words. "Otherwise Lord Elrond would not look back on the time he has spent with his foster fathers with such fondness," he says. " And my father would not have felt pity for the pain in their eyes, an anguish that he remembers so well, when he and grandfather took their leave with the remainder of the Doriathrim. He told me how he and grandfather were found in the stables, by the twins. How grandfather was badly wounded and father was terribly frightened. When the youngest of the brothers had come there, chasing off some of the Elves that still fought them, they heard Oropher and Adar talking, trying to take a horse and run away. Father says that when he saw the two identical warriors, with their red hair and clothes all bloodied he was sure that two demons had come to claim his life. But they did not attack. They just dropped their swords and, when the light caught their faces, they were not grim, but exhausted. Despite grandfather's struggles, he was much too weakened by his wounds and he lost consciousness as he was being helped against his will. Adar was too shocked by all that had taken place and he let himself be reassured by the gentle words that Amrod and Amras kept telling him. They took grandfather away, had his wounds nursed and made sure that Adar was safe also, that he had food and shelter. When his fear was soothed and grandfather was awake once more, Adar learned that they had been rescued by the kinslayers and they were prisoners. But Adar does not recall being treated like a prisoner. He was not caged. People did not treat him badly. The twins often came to see him, though he was very confused and could never really tell which twin he was speaking to. Father also remembers seeing them cry, and hearing them speak of their lost brothers. He was sorry for them and happy that his family had been spared, because even if grandmother was not there to comfort him, he had been told that she had escaped, with Lord Elrond's mother."

Legolas is very engrossed in the telling of this tale. His eyes stare into space, wide, blue orbs that seem to be looking into the past and watching the events unfold as before him. I am torn between understanding the emotion on his beautiful, youthful face and calling back the same images. I would tell him of all that has taken place, those dreadful days and weeks, but I know that the painful recollection would do neither of us any good. So I keep my mouth shut and just listen.

"Father also told me that he heard Maedhros argue with grandfather often. But then, Maedhros disappeared for weeks and, when he came back, nobody would dare argue anymore. And grandfather never raised his voice again after learning where the eldest of the brothers had been. There was little and yet there was a lot that father had to be grateful for, while the remaining brothers and their people still stayed in Doriath. But the kingdom was a ruin and even if no other victim was made after the initial attack, the survivors would live there no longer. Nor would those who had brought ruin upon the fair land and city. So they left, unhindered, taking with them what they would and could. My kinsmen among them. That, my Lord, is the tale of only one reason why I want to hear more of the people who have shaped our history, after all, and mine more than anybody else's." He concludes abruptly, looking me straight in the eye.

For a few, strange moments, we are both silent, Legolas staring at me full of expectation. Running a hand through my hair, I sigh deeply, but resolutely raise my eyes to face him.

"All right, Legolas. What do you want to know?"

*** *** ***

And so it was that I spoke and he listened, encouraging me when words sometimes failed me. It was not long before I realized that his curiosity was genuine and that he truly cared. And so I spoke, as I had not in hundreds of years, suddenly aware that I had been longing to do so.

We talked into the the late hours of the night, long after the last drop of wine had been drunk, and only when the candles I had lit to illuminate my office died out with a flicker, did we leave the past to rest and retire. I slept soundly those few hours until dawn, my mind no longer busying itself with plans and calculations and my body no longer feeling cold, even as I reached out to the side of the bed that Glorfindel had vacated some days ago to leave on an extended patrol.

To my surprise and the twins' disappointment, Legolas chose to spend many hours in my company, making me dig deep into my memories, to provide him with answers to the most unlikely of questions. I did not know what to make of his unusual curiosity, as I did not see in him the fascination of a historian but the passion of a youngster who wished to relive the times of old and the deeds of legend. Despite my many duties and the preparations I still had to take care of, I never denied him one single answer. And Legolas proved himself helpful with many of my tasks, simply shrugging and waving me off when I told him that he does not have to do anything, that a guest and one of royal blood no less should not worry himself with the task of his host's Adviser. That disarming smile of his never failed to win him such arguments, so we worked and spoke, mostly of the old times but sometimes of our fortunes in the times to come, as well.

Many eyebrows might have been raised, but I did not care. Voices must have been raised as well, but I did not listen and, for some reason, I shared with him my plans and my hopes for the journey that I was to embark on. And I ignored the fact that it was not in the position to accept when Legolas simply asked: "Can I come with you?" Of course, I tried to reason with him, half-heartedly giving him all the reasons why such a thing was out of the question. But truth be told, I was glad. I was relieved to know that I would not be wandering alone, speaking only to the winds and the lands, asking them for clues and for help. It brought me some comfort to know that I could share my despair with someone if all my efforts would again be in vain. But most of all, it made the greatest difference to know that someone else shared my hope. It soothed the pain of knowing that my beloved was not that someone.

We took our leave, heading north and to the sea. Two lonely figures we were, silent and thoughtful until the wind no longer carried any of the "Farewell" calls of those we were leaving behind. I would not think about Thranduil's reaction, when he would read his son's letter, informing him briefly that Legolas was "to travel with Master Erestor for an indefinite period of time, in search of a long lost friend". Nor would Legolas speak of such things. I would not think of the strange moments that had passed between Glorfindel and me the night before. Of how he came to me and we made love, slowly, quietly, sleeping in each|other's arms with few words having passed between us. Before we parted, he whispered in my ear, while holding me in a tight embrace: "I love you. Come back to me soon." And I believed him, nodding and fighting back the tears that were welling at the corners of my eyes. Though I wondered how he would receive me if I returned with Makalaure at my side. And what would become of me then.

But I would not think back and worry as our horses carried us in a slow trot, further from home and out into the wild. And my companion would not speak of such things either. We both looked ahead and I found it less difficult to smile, to enjoy the wilderness and the adventure with someone at my side. There was more hope when I could share it with a friend.