The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Ada – father
Caun-neth – young prince
Hannon lle – thank you
Hiril nín – my lady
Ion nín – my son
Mir nín – my treasure
N’uma – no
Pen-neth – young one
Uma – yes


Chapter 23


Elladan was not happy when Elrohir announced our decision to return to Imladris, but he acceded to his brother’s wishes. And so, six months to the day after we set out, we returned to the Last Homely House, tired, a little bruised and battered from our time in the wild, but safe and alive, as I had promised.

We found that little had changed in our absence. Celebrian’s body had healed, but it was obvious that her spirit had not. She rarely left her rooms, and when she did, it was only to walk in her garden. She was not gone yet, but we could sense Mandos on her. She would have to leave soon if she was to go to Valinor. Otherwise, Mandos’ cold Halls would be her destination.

Still, she was obviously glad to see her sons again, even going so far as to thank me for keeping them safe. Arwen thanked me as well, in the privacy of her rooms. When we lay, contented, in each other’s arms, she asked me about the time in the wild.

“It was bad,” I told her honestly. “They kept count, for a while, of how many Orcs they slaughtered. They stopped counting long before they stopped killing.”

“They will not stay if Amme leaves, will they?” she asked.

“I do not know for sure,” I replied, “but I would not be surprised if they returned to the hunt.”

“Why did they come home now?”

I related my conversation with Elrohir.

“You did well to bring them back. Amme has been worried for them. Perhaps now she will be able to rest.”

I wondered if Arwen realized yet how truly serious her mother’s condition was. Having the twins back would ease one worry, certainly, but it would not heal what ailed her. I was trying to frame my question when Arwen spoke again.

“I know it will not stop her from fading, but maybe it will bring her some peace in the meantime. She suffers so, Legolas. She cannot bear to be touched. I want to hug her, to show her that I love her, but she flinches if I even sit too close. The only touch she can accept is Ada’s, but even then, she only tolerates it. She used to crave his touch, to hold his hand under the table, to lean against him as they walked in the garden. She does not pull away from him now, as she did when she first came back, but she still does not seek him out. I do not understand.”

I did not either, not really, but I struggled to explain anyway. “They hurt her in such very personal ways, Arwen. Everything that your parents shared willingly, that you and I share willingly, they took from her or forced on her without her consent, and now, every touch that once brought joy or comfort brings terrible memories of pain.”

“Two and a half millennia of joy destroyed by a few weeks of pain? Can she truly have forgotten everything they shared?”

“Not forgotten, I am sure, but the pain is so immediate, so real. You said she accepts his touch. She has not forgotten completely or she would not let him touch her at all, but the pain is overwhelming her, until she struggles to feel anything else.”

“How do you know this?”

“Do you remember the arrow I took, in my thigh? It was poisoned. Orc poison. It played with my mind and my memories. For weeks, I was trapped in a fever caused by the poison where every touch was a nightmare. Even when I regained consciousness and the touches stopped hurting, the memory of pain caused me to tense when people came to care for me. It took me weeks to control that reaction, and months to stop it. That from one wound in my thigh. How much more did your mother suffer, mir nín? She is caught in a nightmare that is killing her. She will recover in time, but she has not the time here that she needs. She will take the ship to the Undying Lands where she will have the time she needs to heal, and when next you see her, she will be as you remember. You know this separation is not permanent. Hold on to that.”

The next morning after breakfast, much to my surprise, a servant told me that Celebrian wanted to speak with me in the garden. Alone. I exchanged a questioning glance with Arwen, but she seemed as surprised as I was. I followed the servant, wondering what Celebrian could possibly have to say to me, of all people.

“Hiril nín?” I said with a bow when I saw her. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes, pen-neth. Please, sit.” She gestured to a chair set opposite of hers. I took the seat she inted ted and waited for her to explain.

“I am sure you have realized by now what is happening to me. They all try to deny it, to assure me that I am getting well, that I will heal in time, but I know better. I am fading, and all the pretending in the world will not change that.”

“I do not know what to say, hiril nín, except that you will be missed.”

“I am not leaving quite yet, but it will be within a month, I think. I have a favor to ask before I go.”

“Of course, hiril nín. You have only to ask.”

“Do not agree, pen-neth, until you have heard what I ask. I want you to take care of Arwen for me. The twins will take care of each other as they always have. Elrond has a vision of the future and a role for himself to console him. But Arwen has no one.”

“I will take care of her, hiril nín. For as long as I live, I will watch over her.”

“Do you know what you are giving up, Legolas? At least until she meets the one Elrond and my mother have foreseen for her, you will not be free to make a commitment either. What will happen when you fall in love and want to take a mate?”

“As you well know, Lady Celebrian, I have already fallen in love. With your daughter. And I cannot take her as my mate. I will watch over her until someone else comes to take that responsibility. And even then I will watch.”

“And if you meet someone else?”

I was growing impatient with her insistence. “Then I will make sure that my mate understands my commitment to Arwen. She will be as a sister to me and I will watch over her.”

Celebrian seemed satisfied with my answer, finally.

“Hannon lle, caun-neth. I can rest easier now and leave with a lighter heart.”

“Lle creoso, hiril nín.” I hesitated then asked. “Have you seen something? About me?”

“I have not the gift of foresight, Legolas. I have only a mother’s concern for her child. You have stayed with my daughter, and she with you, for over two thousand years with no promises to bind either of you, a long time even for Elves, but the lack of promises scares me. You are both free to love others. I do not want her abandoned because you have found a new love.”

I considered her words. “I do not know what the Valar have in store for me, but Arwen will always, always have a place in my land and in my heart. That place will change when she meets her mate, but she will still be a part of my life, even if I have no more place in hers. And I could never love the kind of Elf who would expect me to cut Arwen out of my life. I will keep her safe. I promise.”

Celebrian searched my eyes carefully. Though she claimed to have none of her mother’s powers, I felt that gaze to the depths of my soul. “I believe you will, ion nín. I believe you will.”

“Hiril nín?” I asked, surprised. She had never called me that before.

“You have been a part of my life, and of my daughter’s, since the day she was born. I thought it about time I acknowledged that.”

I had to laugh. “You and my father.”

“So Thranduil knows and approves? That is good. Take her to Mirkwood for a time after I have gone. She will have no peace from her memories here or in Lórien.”

“I will suggest it,” I promised.

“Leave me now, ion nín. I grow weary.”

I bowed again as I took my leave, afraid to embrace the gentle Lady I had truly come to love. We did not speak again in Arda.

As she predicted, within the month, Celebrian rode for the Grey Havens to take the ships into the west. She refused to let Elrond or her children escort her there, claiming that saying good-bye was hard enough at home. Almost immediately after her departure, the twins returned to the wild. I did not go with them, and Arwen did not ask me to. I did manage to learn that they planned to return to Mirkwood. With Erestor’s help, we notified my father of Celebrian’s departure and the twins’ imminent arrival.

My father asked after Elrond and then announced that he would be visiting Imladris shortly to offer his assistance. That sent Erestor into a panic that lasted until my father’s arrival. Upon arriving, he embraced me, then Arwen, shook off all the formalities that Erestor had prepared and ensconced himself in the library.

“Leave Elrond in peace to grieve,” he declared. “I will do what needs to be done for Imladris.”

Elrond was grateful. Shocked, but grateful. He retired to the little cottage in the woods for two months to grieve, refusing all visitors except, strangely enough, my father. I do not know what passed between the two in the hours they spent together, but I do know that when Elrond finally emerged,was was once again in control of himself, even if he never fully regained the joy in living that he had shared with Celebrian.

Seeing Elrond recovered, my father announced that the time had come for him to return home. He embraced me, then Arwen, urging her to visit him in Mirkwood. Then he mounted Fanya and left as quickly as he had come.

“He is not what I expected,” Arwen said as we watched him ride away.

“That is the effect he usually has,” I laughed. “One never knows what to expect from King Thranduil.”

“Did he mean it when he invited me to visit?”

“Uma. He never issues an invitation that he does not mean.”

“I would like that.”

“Would you?” I was surprised. “You never expressed any interest in visiting my home before.”

“I never had an invitation before, either,” she replied archly.

I struggled to explain why I had never invited her, to explain about the Shadow and its effect on my home.

“I would like to visit,” she repeated.

And so it was that Arwen came to Mirkwood and I was able to show her my home. We made no secret in Mirkwood of being lovers, any more than we had elsewhere, so it came as no great surprise when my father took Arwen under his wing. He explained right away that there had not been a female influence in Mirkwood since my mother left the day after I reached my majority. Arwen was to make any changes she saw as necessary because, he told her, hs tis tired of living in a house and was ready to have a home again. Arwen took him at his word, and little signs of her presence began appearing; a new tapestry behind my father’s throne, flowers on the tables, scented oils instead of plain in the baths. Celebrian had always run Imladris. For the first time, Arwen was the Lady of a house and she reveled in it.

Then, much to my delight, she set all of Mirkwood on its ear by challenging my father to a duel.

My father accepted, knowing from my tales that Arwen could handle a sword. He even did her the honor of using his father’s sword, which he had not used since the Last Alliance. Their match was the talk of Mirkwood for years after.

I could tell, at first, that my father was holding back, but when Arwen began to press him, he abandoned that restraint and fought with ale ske skill and cunning he possessed. The duel lasted. And lasted. And lasted. Neither could gain an advantage over the other. Finally, my father offered a draw and succeeded where everyone else had failed. Arwen laughed as she accepted his offer. It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard, as sweet as any cry she had made in my arms. I had begun to wonder if she would ever laugh again, for even her smiles were rare before that day. She did not forget her grief because of that one moment, but her heart was lighter, and she never again allowed any to speak ill of my father in her presence.

For a year, she graced us with her light and her grace. For a year, the Shadow seemed less of a threat, though the Orcs and the spiders continued to attack. For a year, I lived the life of my dreams. Arwen was in my house. In my room. In my bed. Then a messenger arrived from Lórien. Galadriel desired to see her granddaughter, and Arwen could not refuse. Other than for brief visits, she remained there for four hundred forty years.

Thus it was that I stood outside my father’s palace and watched Arwen ride away, as I had done so many times in the past. “Amin mela lle,” I whispered as she disappeared from sight.

“Will you never tell her, ion nín?” my father asked. “She was happy here. I believe she would return if you asked.”

“N’uma, Ada. However much I desire that, she is not for me.”