The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Daro – stop
Edbado – get out (lit. go out)
Mellon – friend
Melme – my love
Mir nín – my treasure
Uma – yes


Chapter 20

It took another two days for the patrol to return, Celebrian cradled gently in her son’s arms.

Supported by Erestor, Elrond was waiting for her in the courtyard when they rode in. I stood in the shadows of the entrance, my arm around Arwen’s waist, supporting her. She wanted to see her mother, yet she did not want to see what had been done to her.

“Melme,” we heard Elrond whisper as Elladan handed his mother down from the horse. Ifebriebrian responded, we could not hear it from where we stood. Elrond lifted her unresponsive form into his arms and carried her to the Houses of Healing. Arwen made to follow, but I stopped her. I could almost feel the waves of despair rolling off Elrond and his wife. Arwen was already upset. She was in no state to deal with that much emotion. Besides, Elrond and Celebrian would surely prefer to face whatever came next in private.

“Give them some time alone, mir nín. Let your father take care of her now. He needs it as much as she does. Go to your brothers instead.”

“Come with me,” she requested.

I hesitated. I had never really mended matters with the twins after our argument about my relationship with Arwen. I did not know how they would feel about my intrusion in their family affairs once again.

“I know you argued with them, though I do not know why. You told me Thranduil was willing to set aside his disagreement with my father. Surely you can do the same.”

“I never wanted there to be a rift between us wil will come with you, but if it makes them uncomfortable, you must let me leave.”

Arwen ran to her brothers’ side, then, to be enfolded in their tight embrace. I stood a little to the side, listening as they talked. The twins were obviously still upset, and I could practically hear Arwen decide to be strong for them. It would take a toll on her, I knew, but I would comfort heter ter as best I could.

“It was bad, Arwen,” I heard Elrohir murmur after a few minutes. I had not seen what they had seen, but I could hear the horror in his tone. I had known from what little Arwen could feel through her link with her mother that the situation was grave. Elrohir’s next words confirmed it. “They tortured her.” I could see him fighting back tears as he spoke.

“Are they dead?” Arwen asked, vindictiveness in her eyes and her voice.

“Uma,” Elladan replied fiercely. “Glorfindel dispatched the ones that escaped us. Those Orcs will never harm another being.”

“Good,” Arwen said. Whether it was Arwen’s tone or simply that the whole situation was too much for him, Elrohir finally lost the battle against his tears. Arwen gathered him in her arms, holding him tightly. Elladan encircled both of them in his arms, completing the circle. They stayed like that until Elrohir had himself under control again. Thenen ten turned her mind to practical matters.

“Tolo. You need to eat and bathe.” She led them into the dining hall. I followed a step behind, still not wanting to intrude. “Join us, melethron,” Arwen said, gesturing for me to come to her side.

I hesitated still, looking at the twins. I had already been uncomfortable approaching the twins given the situation. Elrohir’s tears had made it even worse. Elrohir broke the awkward silence. “I am glad you are here, mellon. Glad Arwen was not alone.”

And with those simple words our friendship was as it had been before. The twins never did completely accept my decision not to speak of my feelings, but they spoke of it no more, having accepted, at least, that it was my decision to make.

The brothers were mostly silent as they ate, unwilling to speak of what they had seen and unable to speak of anything else. Arwen seemed to sense their exhaustion and simply sat next to them, offering what comfort she could with her presence. After they had eaten, Arwen sent the twins to their rooms to bathe and to findt ret rest they could. I doubted they would rest well that day, or for many days to come. The haunted looks on their faces as they let Arwen shoo them out of the dining hall like a mother hen spoke volumes about how much at a loss they felt. They knew how to track, how to fight, how to rescue. They did not know how to hold vigil, having never been called to do so before. They would need as much care and support over the next few days as Arwen would. I hoped they each had found someone, over the years, to love them. They would need their lovers’ support.

“I want to see my mother,” Arwen announced, her voice implacable, when the twins were gone from sight.

I had no intention of opposing her, not when she had that look in her eye. I followed her to the Houses of Healing, not knowing what awaited us there. We had just entered the healer’s hall when we heard a piercing scream. “Amme!” Arwen cried. I caught her about the waist before she could barge into the room.

“Daro! Your father is in there. If she is hurting, it is because they have no other choice. She would not want you to see her like this. Let them finish their work,” I insisted. She struggled against me, still trying to go to her mother. I tightened my hold, not wanting her to see whatever was going on in the next room, but she had other ideas. She jabbed her elbow into my stomach, knocking the breath from my lungs. As I struggled to catch my breath, she twisted in my arms, breaking my hold. I lunged for her, but she was too fast. She burst through the door to the room where the healers worked and stopped cold as she saw her mother, letting out a cry of distress.

“Edbado!” Elrond bellowed when he saw his daughter. Arwen stumbled backwards, into my waiting arms. Seeing the shock on her face, I scooped her up into my arms and carried her back to her rooms.

She was shaking in my arms by the time we reached her rooms. I climbed into bed with her still in my arms, pulling her tight against me. I could feel the heat leaving her skin and knew that it was the shock affecting her. Her trembling continued for a long time. When I realized that her body was beginning to feel icy, I pulled off her dress and my tunic and leggings, hoping the contact of skin to skin would warm and soothe her. Her eyes were glassy, not the vacant look of sleep, but devoid of anything except perhaps panic. That look spurred me to act.

“Talk to me,” I said. I had to do something to bring her back to me.

“I saw… I saw…” She could not finish her sentence at first.

“They hurt her, Legolas. She was covered in c… cuts and welts, br… bruises and b… b… bite marks. I think they… they….” She could not force herself to say that she feared her mother had been raped, though that was on all of our minds. We knew only too well the fate of most Elves subjected to that kind of treatment. The vast majority faded or sailed to Valinor where the magic of the Valar could heal them. Only a very few, the very strongest, managed to survive very long in Arda, and even they were never completely restored to their former selves. Celebrian was strong, of that there was no doubt, and Elrond loved her very much, but I feared that it would not be enough. I knew the pain of living without a mother. It was not a pain I would have wished on anyone. I certainly did not wish it for my beloved.

“Whatever happened, Arwen, we will find a way to deal with it. You know I will not leave you alone,” I promised.

“But your father…”

“My father sent me here because he knew you would need me. He will not call me home until you no longer need me. Do not despair, mir nín. We do not know for certain what has happened.”

I tried to be optimistic, tried to keep Arwen’s spirits up. But I kept seeing Celebrian’s inert form as dan dan gave her to Elrond. I had seen the kind of despair that I had felt from Celebrian once before, in Mirkwood, when we rescued an Elf from the hands of a band of Orcs. That Elf, however, had had nothing to bind him to Arda, no lover, no children. He had sailed to Valinor as soon as he was physically able. Celebrian had much to keep her here, if she had the strength to fight the fading that would follow. Elbereth, let it not come to that, I prayed.

“And if the worst happened?” she asked. “If Amme sails for Valinor?”

“Then you will be reunited one day, when you sail as well.” I did not know then what Arwen’s choice would be. I had never imagined that the one she would choose would be a Man or that her love for him would take her own immortality, separating her not just from her mother but from all Elvenkind. None of us, except perhaps Elrond, had imagined that fate for Arwen or for any Elf.