Aearlinn

The King of the Woodland Realm advanced until he was within two arm spans of the steps and halted, Rhun'waew's delicate, pale fingers draped over his wrist, Aras' quiet presence surveying the scene over his shoulder. Thranduil's eyes flickered over Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel, amusement and hostility at war within his heart, though none observing him would ever suspect the depth of his outrage. There was no doubt at all that his youngest son had scored a tremendous psychological coup upon these upstanding and revered folk, these noble legends, these historic figures paramount in so many tales of import concerning the history of the First-born. To see them so completely flummoxed was certainly humorous, yet it was also impossible to ignore the reasons Legolas had designed the scam. This lay at the centre of a father's rancour toward those who had hurt his child, shamed him, brought him down so low that Legolas had feared to contact his family. The King's gaze transferred to his youngest son, meeting eyes filled with imploring desperation, so worried that something dreadful was going to happen, so anxious to appease, and for the moment Thranduil could do no less than let his anger go.

For the moment.

Instead, he permitted the comical aspects of this encounter to command his attention, catching Galion's eye for a swift exchange of silent mirth as the pair studied the tableau. The venerable re-born Balrog-slayer, whom the King was secretly excited to meet, Glorfindel being a childhood hero, was repeatedly tapping the Lord of the Valley on the arm, an expression adorning the Vanyarin warrior's features that could only be described as apprehensive wonder. Wily Erestor, renowned even in the remotest outposts of the Greenwood's northern boundaries as an astute and matchless statesman (excepting Galion of course), was leaning close to his kinsman, owlish eyes darting from Thranduil to his Queen to Aras to Legolas and back again, muttering in Elrond's ear, a distinctly frantic caste to his cool grey gaze while his Elvish aura spiked with raw terror every time his vision connected with the King's. Thranduil noted that and stored the insight away for later, certain the seneschal's distress must pertain to Legolas, for to his knowledge Thranduil had no history with the Lachenn statesman.

So gossip was accurate on this point, at least. Erestor must contribute personally to the compensation.

The King had to exert effort to hold back his resurgent anger and remain at peace, but he did so upon resting his sight upon Legolas once more. His youngest had suffered and Thranduil had inadvertantly added to that ongoing misery when meeting his son again, spewing forth a ranting diatribe against the Elf Lord once the initial, tearfully joyful welcomes were done. The damage caused would not be easy to repair but Thranduil would succeed; he must find means to accept this Lachenn who so completely held Legolas' heart and soul. It required but a minute readjustment to shift his attention to Elrond, for Legolas was still clinging to the august ruler in a manner the strict father did not exactly approve. The lovers had not let go of one another since Legolas' undignified dismount, tearing cross the yard to embrace his intended much too intimately for public display. The Sindarin monarch's frown faded a bit as he took in Elrond's status, pleased to find the Elf so perplexed and bewildered. The mighty Lord of Imladris was absolutely stunned into dazed detachment, incapable of accepting the facts before his eyes, his normal demeanour of gracious, if rather haughty, courtesy absent. He might have been any commoner, gaping with mouth ajar at the sight of so many esteemed persons before him, all forms of protocol and ceremony forgotten.

He never asked Legolas about his people.

The thought could not be squelched and a momentary flare of rage charged the air with its intensity. How could he forgive this Lachenn the injuries still so obvious in his young son's anxious eyes? Soft pressure from Rhun'waew's grip calmed him while Aras' aura blazed in reciprocal displeasure. Thranduil breathed in a long slow breath and released it just as carefully, willing his mind to focus on the jocose elements once more.

"Elrond!" The Chief Advisor whispered but the word was audible to all except, apparently, his kinsman. Once more Erestor's sight found the Woodland King's, unable to mask the open trepidation the contact sparked.

Thranduil stifled the urge to snicker, content to wait for his host to regain some semblance of composure and offer welcome; it wasn't proper for a King to make the first greeting. He peered up at the elegant and stately domicile, surveying the refined lines and dramatic arches, the marble balconies and soaring turrets, the porticoes and verandas that made the Last Homely House so splendid. He made no effort to hide his admiration, finding the structure fittingly majestic enough for a Prince of Greenwood, and transferred his scrutiny to the occupants lining the stairs, the porch, the plaza, and the broad avenue. Slowly he passed his regal eye over them, noting carefully who was high-born and who was not, who was in Elrond's employ and who was more than simply a retainer, which among the Sindarin and Noldorin lords were awarded the most noteworthy places in the courtyard and thus must be his closest allies. Each and every one of them were nearly as frightened as Erestor, judging by the high energy emitted from their auras, and thus the King accepted as truth this portion of Fennas' report as well.

Imladris' best and brightest have indeed shunned and denigrated my son.

It was easier to swallow his ire over this, for the woodland monarch knew these Lords based their contemptible behaviour upon the example given by their betters. Still, they would have to pay. He smiled in benign condescension to indicate his approval of the welcome he and his people had received, purposely misrepresenting his real evaluation of such hypocrisy, giving a royal nod here and there when a former resident of Doriath was identified by the crest or seal of a familiar House. Finally he resumed his study of the more immediate scene before him, that consisting of Legolas tugging his lethargic mate by the hands, attempting to move him from the spot upon which he was frozen.

Thranduil's grin expanded as he met the Elven Lord's glazed and staring eyes. Behind him, Aras gave the smallest sniff of disdainful deprecation, a tiny sound that was not missed by Legolas, but Thranduil instantly flashed his heir a warning glare. If there was to be any displeasure expressed at this moment, it was not Aras' place to display it, not by word, deed, or countenance. Galbreth's eldest relented, but not before offering his uncle a smile that conveyed a particularly demeaning variety of scornful pity. There passed between the princes a silent moment filled with anger and resentment that coloured the cheerily courtyard with ominous gloom.

It was this small indication of enmity that awakened Elrond, for Legolas became still and wary, his grip turning rigid in a defensive response of anger encumbered with humiliation and disappointment. The Lord of Imladris focused on his mate then, quickly assessing the level of stress this meeting was producing and protectively drew him close, an arm wrapping around his waist, a hand gently covering the small swell at his midsection. Aearen's eyes found his and Elrond offered a reassuring smile that renewed his vow to denounce any voice, be it sylvan, Sindarin, or Noldorin, that would speak ill of their union or their child. He gave substance to the promise and stepped boldly forward, shaking off Glorfindel's insistent nudges and scowling at Erestor's undignified loss of composure.

"Mae Govannen, Aran Thranduil. It is a great honour to my House and my lands to receive you and your people here at the Last Homely House." Elrond bowed graciously as he spoke. "Please, consider my home yours for the duration of your visit, which I pray may be long and pleasurable. May I add, it is with amazed delight that I realise here this evening the exalted lineage to which my beloved belongs. I pray the dignity of my House will prove sufficient to earn your approval and blessing." Beside him, Legolas gave an audible sigh of relief.

"Mae Govannen, Lord Elrond. I thank you for such a courteous welcome." Thranduil bowed also, though not as deeply, sending his agitated son an encouraging smile as he righted himself, pleased by the greeting. Fennas had exaggerated the case, that much was clear, for the distraught father had not missed the sudden alteration in the Noldorin Lord's manner. Elrond responded just as a proper mate should whose goal was to minimise any negative impact upon his life-mate and their unborn babe. Well, to make up for his misjudgement,Thranduil decided to do something he knew would please Legolas and shared a minute wink with his youngest before resuming the salutations.

"On behalf of the people of the Woodland Realm, I accept your hospitality. As for my blessing upon this union, my presence assures it, though that approbation is not based on consideration of your impressively diverse pedigree. In my country, titles and genealogy are less important than skill in battle and service to Tawar. My assent is given to ensure my son's health and happiness, and that of the babe he carries." He paused as a low murmur percolated through the assembled Elves, turning to appraise the mood and finding it less than tolerant. It seemed the folk of Imladris found his disregard of their Lord's elite ancestry insulting. Thranduil's brows quirked up and he rested this inquiring expression upon his host.

"Mellyn, mellyn lasto enni!" Elrond hastily moved to silence his peoples' expression of open displeasure. "Can you not see the honour done to us, to me and my kinfolk? Here stands the King of the Wood Elves, kinsman to Celeborn the Wise, an Elf connected to one of the most prestigious Houses among all elvendom. Is not the son of such an Elf worthy of the best match possible? Aye, and Legolas' hand would be much sought after had fate not sent him here. Even so, Aran Thranduil disregards that fact and places the well-being of his son and nascent grandchild foremost when considering my suit. I am indeed gratified to be recognised as the one Elf capable of securing that important goal of health and happiness."

"Well said!" exclaimed Mithrandir, who had remained silent up to now. "Surely both realms will benefit and both Houses find their ascendancy enhanced by this union," he continued and thus conferred the added blessing of the Valar by proxy.

A few nodding heads and smiling countenances among the nobles endorsed this interpretation of Thranduil's meaning while out on the road before the gates the common folk broke into open applause, adding whistles and shouts of 'Galu erin Noss Roval uin Alph ar Noss Brethil!' and 'Galu bo Legolas, Elrond, ar lín laes!'

That had Legolas smiling and his parents could not help but be pleased to see it. The royal couple shared a warm glance before Thranduil proceeded with his little gift to his son.

"Your words, Mithrandir, are not only gracious but verily prophetic. Good people of Imladris, Lord Elrond Peredhel, permit me to introduce my family. Ernil Aras od Eringalen, my first-born grandson and heir to the dominion of Tawar." The grieving Elf bowed minimally and offered no greeting, which did not seem to disturb the King as he continued. Thranduil stepped back, handing his lovely mate forward, her hand uplifted, poised upon his reverent palm so that she stood apart from him where all could see, as he proudly and loudly pronounced her name and titles for all to hear: "Hiril Arth ar Brand, Bereth od Eringalen Dhaer, Cundiell od Arth Doriath Dannen, Sell Tolothen Edonnen od Eluréd Diorion Thingolion: Rhun'waew o Noss Crebain."

A second of stunned silence gave way as a subdued exclamation of astonishment swept through the courtyard upon this grandiose introduction, followed by the excited murmur of gossiping voices passing the news from mouth to ear out beyond the gates. Not only was the Lord's mate related to royalty, Legolas was royalty, belonging to a lineage arguably as exalted as Elrond's own. If what they had just heard was true, their humble Wood Elf's Naneth, and Legolas himself, must be distant cousins to Lord Elrond. Could it be? Could Rhun'waew truly be a latter-Age product of one of the Lost Princes of Doriath, Dior's son Eluréd, twin to Elurin? Before the whispers grew into a dissonant commotion, the Woodland Queen stepped forward to offer her hand to the revered Lore-master, and all the hubbub died down.

"Kinsman, long have I wished to return and see once more the land of my birth. Elrond, I greet you as a sister and pray you will treat me as such." She was smiling, her dark eyes dancing with amusement and warmth as they took in the Elven Lord's shocked disbelief and her son's ecstatic expression.

"Bereth Rhun'waew, I am astounded by this unexpected link between my people and the folk of Greenwood!" stammered Elrond, taking her hand and bowing low beneath it as he spoke. "We never heard news of my mother's brothers surviving the fall of Doriath. Elwing believed them dead. How has this connection gone so many years without being recognised and celebrated?"

"Ah, that is a tale for later," Rhun'waew evaded the inquiry, "yet, do not call me by any title, for we are truly related by blood and by bond."

"As you say, Rhun'waew," Elrond shot his young mate a questioning glance and could not contain his own pleasure to see how delighted Legolas was to reveal this wondrous news. Unable to resist, he gathered the beaming sylvan to him, linking his arm around the slender waist, pressing a kiss against the fair cheek. "You have brought me many blessings, more than ever I could have imagined, Aearen," he said quietly.

Legolas' aura was practically brilliant as a result of this loving tribute and he made sure both his parents observed it, entwining his arm around Elrond in turn. Before anyone else could comment, however, Aras at last spoke.

"Forgive me, Lord Elrond, but what did you just call my uncle?" he demanded tersely.

"Aras," Thranduil's voice was edged in warning but it did not deter the elder prince.

"Nay, Adar, I would like to understand correctly, for it seems to me he referred to Legolas as 'My Ocean'. Is that so, Legolas? Are you Lord Elrond's means to paradise?"

"Ion!" Rhun'waew snapped, spinning to fix her grandson with a reproving glower. "This is not the time or place for such…"

"Nana Dhaer, we cannot ignore what is really going on here," Aras shot back, coming forward to stand right in front of Elrond and stare in contemptuous disgust at both him and Legolas. "They have shamed our family and everyone here knows it, no matter how great a fanfare the Noldorin Lord tries to make. It is time to discuss recompense."

"No, Aras," Legolas got between him and Elrond quickly. "We will not discuss it here and you are the one who shames us by announcing this demand in public."

"Let us not speak of disgrace or guilt upon anyone's part, for while there has been much sorrow and grief there is now great cause to rejoice," stated Rhun'waew. "Aras, the desolation your losses have caused excuses much, yet these bitter words are painful to me. Would you add to my burdens at such a time?"

The pale Sindarin prince blanched even more, the fury leaving his eyes to be replaced by remorseful repentance as he quickly bowed to his grandmother and offered his apology. "Your words are just, Nana Dhaer. I beg your leave to retire."

"That isn't necessary, Aras," said Elrond kindly. "I am sure your presence is most appreciated and I would hate for you to miss the grand banquet and soiree arranged to welcome Legolas' family."

Aras stared coldly at the Noldorin Lord before catching his Adar's threatening eye. He acquiesced with a curt dip of his chin, withdrawing to the cluster of Sindarin and sylvan folk who had in the meantime ridden through the gates and dismounted.

These additional members of the archer's extended family were all royal or noble folk and their gloriously milling presence, bedecked as they were in lush furs, rich fabrics, precious jewels, and exotic designs offered a convenient distraction from the Crowned Prince's acrimonious reminder that this was not exactly a friendly visit. Everyone in the courtyard was now aware that their was a debt owed to the Sindarin King and payment would not be defrayed for very long. It was thus much more appealing to greet and meet the visiting dignitaries, the count of which exceeded Elrond's ability to hold their names in memory as one by one they were presented by the King or Queen, depending upon which side of the family they were connected. Galbreth had been quite prolific, fathering no less than five sons and four daughters, each of whom had also married and produced several offspring. In addition, many of the Winter Queen's near relations had joined the caravan along with several descendants of Thranduil's deceased brother.

It was such a large throng that Erestor began to despair of where to put them all. His Sindarin counterpart seemed to anticipate his concerns and sidled up beside him.

"I trust you can accommodate Legolas' immediate family here in the Last Homely House. The majority of the folk wish to remain amid the woods where our people camped in days of old," said Galion, his clever eyes shimmering in both challenge and amusement.

"Of course," Erestor answered at once, wary of this haughty Elf with the cold, reptilian stare, and then hesitated a moment. "Exactly which Elves here, besides his parents and nephew, constitute Legolas' immediate family?"

Galion grinned and chuckled. "No need to worry, Erestor, it's not so huge a number. Aras' kin must be housed within, for they are suffering still from the grief that has befallen Ernil Vain. It isn't good for them to be separated. All told, the number is no more than twenty."

"That will be no inconvenience," assured Erestor smugly, "there's room enough and to spare. We have ample quarters in the barracks for the warriors if they wish it."

Galion snorted in derision. "The warriors," he said, "are not on holiday and will assume the role of guarding the encampment."

"There is no need for that," interposed Glorfindel, who had been listening keenly and found this last remark a bit offensive. "No evil thing has ever crosses the Bruinen. Your people are under no threat of danger here."

"I do not doubt the skill of your excellent guards and patrols, many of whom we passed upon our trek across the region and into the vale," stated the captain of Greenwood's troops, who had somehow arrived by his elbow unseen. He gave the legendary warrior a polite bow to counter the sting of the inferred slight and introduced himself. "Faron Thurin'aurion, one of Legolas' cousins, my progenitor being Aran Thranduil's elder brother. No matter how superior your forces may be, Lord Glorfindel, it is our way to establish a private area and ensure no strangers wander in unexpectedly, whosoever that might be."

"As you wish," answered the Balrog-slayer stiffly, still displeased over the implication of inferiority aimed at his Guard. It was equally unnerving to have the people of the valley referred to as strangers when these woodland Elves were the guests. He let his eye wander back to the ring of archers, finding they had dispersed somewhat, mingling amid the crowds while two smaller contingents coalesced, one collected near the King and the other shadowing the Queen as she moved through the throng. Glorfindel frowned, observing Elrond and Thranduil quietly conversing as they strolled toward the gardens, sylvan warriors flanking them left and right, and gave a discreet hand-sign to his lieutenant to assemble a comparable detachment to follow. Attending this duty produced the surprise of finding Legolas beside him the next instant.

"Lord Glorfindel, please understand this has nothing to do with any distrust of Imladris' soldiers. We are Wood Elves; it is not in our nature to tolerate outsiders easily," said the woodland Prince, offering an apologetic smile along with the statement.

Glorfindel cocked a brow at him, not yet finished feeling indignant to have been cast the buffoon, or at least one of them, in the young archer's little jest. "If you say it is so, Ernil Legolas, then I must accept it as truth."

"Ai! Do not call me that," grumped Legolas, turning red around the ears as Galion laughed merrily.

"Nae! He hates his titles and dreads to be announced at formal functions," relayed the sylvan seneschal.

"Because of the Woodland Realm's policy of eschewing such honorific?" inquired Erestor, who was sure, based on the King's pride in announcing his wife-mate's exalted ancestry, that no such policy existed.

"Nay, or at least that reason is secondary to the principal one," Galion chortled and flashed Legolas a grin.

"Galion," warned the Winter Queen and at once the irreverent advisor repressed his mirth, bowing solemnly to the noble Woodland Lady. She nodded approval and turned to Erestor. "Legolas' reticence to have his accolades pronounced is mainly due to the length of time required to get through them all, for he is the very best warrior Greenwood has and his deeds of valour rival the count of the stars."

"Naneth!" Legolas entire face was aflame by now and he glanced furtively about, noticing with chagrin that several of the nobles were hovering close enough to have overheard. The gossips would be wagging their tongues in no time and Elbereth only knew what permutations the truth might undergo.

"That I do believe," averred Glorfindel, having found a fitting revenge upon That Wood Elf. "Legolas refused recognition for no less than three instances of bravery which resulted in preventing his troop from falling prey to an ambush of werewolves, ridding the human settlements surrounding Imladris of two particularly vicious trolls, and detecting a caravan of slave-traders attempting to sneak past the boundaries, hoping to prey upon the folk of the Angle, no doubt."

"Ah, those sounds like stirring tales meant to be put to song," a new voice answered, belonging of course to our beloved minstrel, Lindir. "You must spare no detail, Glorfindel, for I am eager to enhance the evening's recital with grand ballads of epic battles and intrepid deeds."

"Why don't you sing of the heroes who fell at Gondolin," suggested Legolas, sending his former commander a sidelong look of menace. "For the bravery exhibited there can never be matched by such commonplace exploits as averting a pack of werewolves or humans on the prowl."

"Nay, everyone has heard the old songs," Glorfindel denounced the idea, physically wincing merely to hear it brought up, for he despised to have his fight against the Balrog retold, and hastily called a truce with the Wood Elf. "Perhaps we could hear songs of Eraid Iaur o Dôr di 'eraidh. Lindir, maybe the King's minstrels would consent to give a concert this evening. We could learn much about our distant and elusive neighbours by such an endeavour."

"I will undertake to make it so," Lindir bowed, his gaze flickering over to Galion, having felt the foreign Elf's concentrated stare. He gave a pleased simper and strummed an exultant chord upon his harp, ever present upon his hip. "Lord Galion, perhaps you would accompany me on this quest?"

The green-eyed advisor let his sight travel salaciously over the singer's blatantly alluring form, resting much too long on the erect and ruddy nipples pointing at him, stopping just short of licking his lips in anticipation of their taste. He tossed his head so that his long auburn hair danced around his shoulders. "I would be pleased to aid you in any way you might desire, but do not give me titles that I do not possess. I am not among the Elders and certainly no Lord to you."

Lindir let his sprightly laugh fill the space, his eyelids dropping low so that he might stare coquettishly at Galion from beneath his long golden lashes. "No Lord to me, you say? Then perhaps I shall Lord it over you." He turned and sallied away, Thranduil's most trusted aid right behind him.

"Ai Valar," breathed Legolas, his eyes quite large and his blush going from rose to rouge.

"You and Elrond are just as bad if not worse," complained Erestor tersely, unaccountably displeased and angry to see Lindir flirting so openly, offering such a flagrant invitation to someone he didn't know at all.

"Legolas, surely you do not go about dressed like that?" inquired Faron, his visage going scarlet as his eye tracked over his cousin's frame, resting on his middle before hastily tearing his sight away.

"Nay! I would never present myself in public thus," scolded Legolas, scandalised to hear his friend could entertain such a notion even briefly. "Nor do I carry on so with my beloved, Lord Erestor."

"Oh, not quite so daring in the ways of love as you are in the ways of war?" laughed Faron and Glorfindel joined him.

"Peace, Faron, or I will send you off to the woods and you will miss a grand party," threatened Legolas.

"Why must you reside amid the trees at all?" asked Glorfindel. "I am certain there is ample room here in the city for everyone to find suitable lodging for the duration of the visit."

"Nay, we prefer it this way and so it was when my parents dwelled here also," Rhun'waew answered. "You were not here then, Lord Glorfindel, but Erestor can attest to it. None of the Noldorin folk ever did come out to the camp, but had they tried our warriors would have stopped them 'ere they found the dwellings."

"So I do recall," agreed the seneschal. "Bereth Arod, I regret that I do not remember meeting you then, for your parents must be kinfolk to me. Had I known, better accommodations would have been offered at once."

"Ah, that is just what they did not want, you see. Life-bearing is strenuous and all attention and energy must be devoted to the growing child. My Ada and Nana would not have wished for all the pomp and commotion that would attend such a revelation. A woodland elfling must become immersed in the spirit of Tawar in order to survive, and distractions from the so-called civilised world hinder this fusion."

"I cannot say I understand what you mean," said Glorfindel, "but I will respect your wishes and do all I can to maintain the sanctity of your enclave." He couldn't help being puzzled and curious, though, and because he was a revered and beloved legend among Elves of every kind, dared to give voice to his intrigue. "What of Legolas' child? Will this merger of faer and Tawar be attempted?"

"Of course," answered the Queen and her son in unison, their tones perfectly coloured in matching shades of vexed disbelief that something so obvious would be questioned.

"I can't claim to comprehend what such a melding encompasses, yet surely Elrond's child will be brought up in the Last Lonely House," avowed Erestor with something close to horror. "He will be educated in the Noldorin manner according to accepted Noldorin tradition as were Elrond's other elflings."

The woodland royals stared at him with that unnerving expression of extreme forbearance, the demeanour of the enlightened when encountering the provincial, the pained attitude of the disappointed parent faced with a less than astute child. Their smiles dimmed to facsimiles of goodwill, tolerance cloaking the inevitable affront such a bigoted statement must inflict.

"It wounds me," Rhun'waew began but abruptly stopped, for truly it did so and deeply, her eyes opened to what her youngest child had been forced to endure. She touched him, a gentle caress of his arm that stopped just short of taking his hand in hers.

"My son will belong to two traditions," said Legolas firmly, "and he will be comfortable with both. He will not be a Wood Elf as I am nor will he become steeped in the ways of the Noldor alone, for his sire's heritage owes more to the Teleri people than the Lechenn. He will learn what is best from each culture and flourish."

Erestor was too embarrassed to answer this, having managed once again to get his toes caught between his very teeth, and bowed solemnly, hand over his heart, intensely aware of the vigourous and disapproving contempt with which Faron's sharp eyes pinned him. This left Glorfindel to construct an apology.

"Your pardon, our folk have been isolated from each other too long. The Noldorin Elves are learning yet such deep-seated ignorance cannot be overcome quickly. I meant no offence by my inquiry and hope I may be forgiven. I could not see how this immersion of which you speak could happen, surrounded by so much that is counter to it. The people of Imladris are not known for their wood-craft and other than Legolas there is but one sylvan resident."

"Do not be concerned; perhaps we are too sensitive to the differences between us as well," said the Queen graciously, allowing her smile to gather warmth again as it slid from her distant kinsman to the esteemed re-born warrior. "In any case, many of our people will remain here until the child is old enough to proceed without fear of losing the vital connection."

Erestor's eyes grew large and his brows rose as he digested this bit of news for, if memory served him correctly, the age at which a Wood Elf was deemed old enough to risk exposure to the dangers of the wide world was five years. An unpleasantly heavy sensation of doom collected in his gut and made his stomach hurt, vivid visions of Thranduil remaining in the Last Homely House to oversee the care and instruction of Legolas' and Elrond's babe flashing through his imagination. Erestor wondered if it might be time to organise a state visit, which he must lead of course, to Mithlond or perhaps Lothlorien.

Now as interesting as all this may be, the real reason Legolas and Rhun'waew joined Erestor and Glorfindel was to allow the two rulers a chance to speak in private. The Lord of Imladris had suddenly found himself standing next to Thranduil, both of them isolated from the crowd by a ring of sylvan warriors who stood respectfully facing away, though they would of course overhear everything the leaders might say to one another. Elrond glanced about trying to locate Legolas and spotted him with his Naneth. The woodland archer must have felt his mate's worry and turned just then, meeting Elrond's eyes with encouragement and love before turning to follow the Queen.

"The braids suit you."

Elrond's attention was thus jerked back to the volatile sovereign at his side. He found Thranduil studying him minutely, aloof and wary but lacking the fiery indications of wrath so obvious moments ago.

"Not many here would agree with me, neither among my people or yours, but it is true. You love him. I was not prepared for it, based on what Fennas said," Thranduil added.

"I'm glad you see it," Elrond began, raising a hand to touch the neat, plaited rows at his temple. "I hope I can be worthy of him, of the love he has given me and the joy he has brought into my life. I regret," he faltered then and frowned. What could he possibly say that would appease Legolas' father? Had one of his children been subjected to similar treatment, Elrond was not sure he would be able to forgive the perpetrators. "I have so many regrets," he finally sighed, resigned to be forever at odds with his law-kin, forever striving to prove his worth.

"As do I, as does Legolas," Thranduil shrugged, an expansive and dismissive gesture that surprised Elrond. "Regrets can be dealt with easily enough, for they pertain to what is in the past. I am concerned most with what is in the future for my son. Perhaps we might adjourn to a more private location and discuss these concerns."

The King of the Woodland Realm and the Lord of Imladris stared hard at one another, both more accustomed to giving orders than receiving them, neither one partial to being defied. Loathe was Elrond to submit to demands made by a guest in his home, no matter who it might be. Little patience had Thranduil for those who failed to heed his requests upon first hearing. Yet the one did wait and the other held his tongue, for one and the same reason: each wished to make things right for Legolas. As one they turned, Elrond indicating with a motion of his hand the direction they should take, and the circle of warriors reorganised and moved with them, insulating them from curious eyes and ears. The Lord of Imladris led the way through the gardens to a small conservatory attached to the house and they entered in, the soldiers taking up position outside to guard against intrusions. Once more the rulers faced off and again it was Thranduil who spoke first.

"Elrond, I understand what a surprise it is for you to find me here," he gestured with his hand to the surrounding flowers and shrubs within the green glass walls and all that lay beyond, "in your sumptuous home. No more surprised than was I to receive word of what had become of Legolas. I am grateful to have him back, no matter the circumstances, for he is dear to me. When I thought him dead, it was as if I had killed him with my own hands for I sent him away before he was ready. These are the regrets that I must set aside, for looking to the past will ensure only a future filled with more grief and sorrow."

Elrond was amazed by these revelations, having expected an explosive barrage of accusations and recriminations from the Sindarin King. Instead, he found the father much like the son, blaming himself for the outcome of the failed mission. Now that they were so close, it was easy to spot the signs of fading only recently overcome. Once more the resemblance between father and son stood out strongly. "I want you to know; I had no understanding of what this kind of bonding entails. I should have married him right away but I believed it was only a temporary link. I won't pretend that I handled this situation correctly for to do so would be a lie and an insult to Legolas and his family."

Thranduil gave a droll, dry smile. "Those are the regrets you must set aside," he said. "For Legolas and the sake of his unborn babe we must make the effort to blind ourselves to the past."

"I agree, for Legolas' babe is my babe also and I will let nothing threaten him." Elrond could not help elaborating the obvious, since Thranduil had so pointedly left it out.

"None would doubt your devotion as a parent, for you have already raised three children. Fennas believes your commitment is based on the child's conception, but I can see this is not true. Yet what you feel for Legolas was not enough to prompt you to suggest a permanent union before now." He raised his hand to pre-empt Elrond's explanation. "I do not care to hear your reasons; they are no mystery to me and I find discussing such realities repugnant. My desire for reassurance about the depth of your tie to Legolas has a more serious foundation than a bruised ego or a shamed House."

Elrond blinked, again stunned by the apparent dismissal of what he'd believed would be the principal kernel of conflict between himself and Legolas' relatives. Instead, Thranduil took it as given that Elrond had judged his youngest son unfit for a formal union. What he wanted was understanding of what had changed to make Legolas suddenly acceptable. "I must be frank with you and since it is clear you perceive much then it will be easier. It is true; I would not consider marriage an option, not even after I knew myself to be in love with him. Now, even were there no child at all I would still wed him. It was the poisoning that opened my eyes. Before then I never considered that I might lose him or what emptiness I must face should that come to pass. I have never known terror like that before; I am not ashamed to admit it. Legolas is my heart and soul and nothing will part me from him."

For a long time the two remained silent, eyes locked, as Thranduil subjected his future son-in-law to a penetrating evaluation, demanding access to every aspect of the Noldorin Lord's spirit. At last he seemed satisfied that their was no deception in what the Elrond had spoken and sighed, breaking away to gaze out into the grounds. "He has chosen you and you have accepted. So be it. It will not surprise you to know this is not the life I would have wished for Legolas. He was meant for great things and would have done much for our people. Nevertheless, I will do all I can to ensure his happiness."

"No, this is not what anyone would plan for their child, yet I know I can make him happy here. He is happy here with me and now that we are gaining acceptance among the populace his life will be easier." Elrond thought this a positive thing to say and wondered why the Sindarin King was staring at him so oddly. At last Thranduil shook his head half sad, half bemused.

"You really don't know anything about the sort of bond you've forged with my son," he announced. "Tell me, Elrond, does he seem well and strong to your eyes?"

The question took the healer by surprise and a spike of fear bloomed in his heart. Was Legolas all right? Mentally he ran through a lengthy catalogue of quirks and habits, from the bizarre to the mundane, that had never ceased to bewilder him. He had to admit he had no idea if any of them were normal for sylvan Elves or not. Real alarm replaced the unfolding anxiety. "Why? What do you mean? If something is wrong I must know at once!" he demanded, stopping short of taking the King by the front of his tunic and shaking him, but only just.

"Peace," said Thranduil quietly, conversely worried and pleased by the reaction his cryptic words had elicited. "It is not as bad as your heart fears, yet Legolas is not fit, not as he was before he left Greenwood last. He is dependent upon you, upon the light of your soul, to sustain him."

"Still? It has been ten years, more even, since the attack. His recovery has been slow but consistent and I considered him fully restored." Even as he spoke the words, Elrond recognised the lie in them. The physical wounds had healed, the weakness left by the poisonous infections had subsided, but Legolas' spirit had been burdened by grief, remorse, and guilt unending. Add to that the continuous harassment from every quarter and the hidden shame of being kept as a bond-slave, and Legolas' apparent stability could only be a sham. "Ai Elbereth! He should not be with child!" Elrond turned, meaning to go and find his mate, desperately needing to have him near, to hold him, to protect him and the babe from harm. It was suddenly quite clear that he might still lose them both. Thranduil's grasp upon his arm stopped him.

"Nay! Legolas doesn't realise the danger. You mustn't reveal it to him or it will add to his burdens. Whatever happens, he will need to remain close to you. Unless you go with him, he must not leave the valley for at least here he is under the protection of the Ring of Air." There was a pause as the two considered one another cautiously, Elrond unwilling to speak of the Ring, knowing the King's thoughts concerning it, and Thranduil aware of this. He took a short breath and continued. "You have used it to heal him, so horrendous were his injuries, body and soul. I can feel it around him; its power has changed him."

"I couldn't risk losing him." Elrond was shaking his head. "How has it changed him? I will not risk losing him. We should sail; it's the only surety we can have. Even Vilya has limits. His instincts, as usual, are right. He's been talking about leaving for Aman and twice he meant to do so but could not break from me because of the bond." He broke from Thranduil and paced impatiently amid the exotic blooms.

"So he did try. He refused to answer Aras' on that point, nor would I press him on it." Thranduil's tone became harsh. "He could not survive the voyage without you beside him. The problem has gone beyond such a seemingly easy solution, however, for you can't suggest emigration without revealing why you suddenly wish to break a solemn vow made to Gil-galad and desert your people. Once you tell him, the truth will wear upon him minute by minute. How could he face the thought of putting his brother's life at risk not once but twice? Will you impose that burden of guilt upon him again? If he were strong and well, it wouldn't matter, but then again, if he were strong and well none of this would have come to pass."

"Elbereth, he believes the child is meant to provide for Galbreth's rebirth," gasped Elrond.

"Exactly so, yet he has created life while in a state unfit to nurture that life, putting himself and the child at serious disadvantage. Knowing he has done this, can his grief-laden soul bear it and still support the developing babe? I fear the answer would be no, and in losing the child we would lose Legolas as well, for his heart would truly be broken."

"Nay, this cannot be happening," Elrond refused to accept the dire prognosis. "I won't permit that. We must tell him the truth and get him to Aman with all speed."

"If you reveal this now he will not be able to encompass it," warned Thranduil. "I only informed you in order to make you understand what is required of you to see him through it. He will need your undivided attention from now until three months beyond the birth, perhaps more for he will be terribly depleted by then. Surely you have noted how thin he is. You have to choose: you can be the Lord of Imladris or Legolas' mate, but there is no energy to spare to attempt both charges."

Elrond scowled severely at the Woodland King. "I already made that choice. Legolas is my mate and he and Tinu Mîn are my only priority. I have sent for my sons to return and will gladly give over governance of the valley to them as soon as they arrive. No matter what you say, Legolas needs to understand how difficult this is going to be and we need to start for the Havens within a ten-day." He turned to leave, intent upon finding his beloved, concerned about the impact this stressful visit must be having on him. Thranduil's voice stopped him on the threshold.

"Wait, Elrond. There is no need resign your position here and flee for Valinor. Legolas is strong; he will do all he must to ensure the babe is born healthy and whole. He will give whatever is needed and you must be willing to do the same. It is your resolve and commitment that needed clarification."

"What do you mean? He's strong enough; there's no need to fear he'll survive the pregnancy?"

"Of course not," scoffed the King. "It won't be an easy birth but he'll come through all right. You were the unknown factor in this evaluation, Elrond. I required proof of the sincerity of your devotion to my son and you have proved it to be deep and true, even to the point of abdicating your Lordship and reneging on a sacred vow. I deem you a fitting mate for my Legolas, Prince of Greenwood. Furthermore, your House and nation will make acceptable allies for the House of the Beeches and the Woodland Realm."

"What?"

"Welcome to the family," Thranduil grinned and thumped the stupefied Lord on the back. "You'll do just fine, though your resources may not be as extensive as Lord Galdor's. Still, it is more important to know Legolas' heart is in good hands. Now then, let us celebrate this union through the night with feasting and dancing and merry songs! Tomorrow we can begin negotiations on the dowry and the compensation to my House for Legolas' shameful treatment under your roof." The Sindarin ruler moved to the doors and opened them.

"What?"

Elrond watched him walk out into the gardens, his troops closing around him as he went in search of his Queen, wondering what exactly had just happened, the concepts of dowries and recompense swirling chaotically through misgivings about Legolas' health and the welfare of their child. The Lord of Imladris staggered to a bench and sat down.

TBC

~ ~  Glossary  ~ ~

Le Tobol Ista: Coming to Know You

Ernil Vain: First Prince

Galu erin Noss Roval uin Alph ar Noss Brethil: Good Fortune on the House of the Swan's Wing and the House of the Beeches.

Galu bo Legolas, Elrond ar lín laes!: Blessings upon Legolas, Elrond and their babe!

Mellyn, mellyn lasto enni: Friends, friends, listen to me!

Hiril Arth ar Brand, Bereth od Eringalen Dhaer, Cundiell od Arth Doriath Dannen, Sell Tolothen Edonnen od Eluréd Diorion Thingolion: Rhun'waew o Noss Crebain: Her Exalted Highness, Queen of Greenwood the Great, Princess of the Lost Kingdom of Doriath, eighth-generation daughter descended from Eluréd son of Dior son of Thingol, my beloved wife, Rhun'waew of the Ravens.

Nae: Alas

Eraid Iaur o Dôr di 'eraidh: Ancient Days from the Land Beneath the Trees.

Nana Dhaer: Grandma

Ernil Vain: First Prince - heir

Rhûn'waew: East Wind

Aras: deer, stag

Lasto! Lasto! Lasto enni, Hir ar Hiril ar pân gwaith vaer odImladris! Alae! Sî Thranduil Oropherion, Aran od Eryngalen Daer an uir! Listen! Listen, Listen to me, Lords and Ladies and all good people of Imladris! Behold! Here is Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of Greenwood the Great for eternity!

saes, ha naegra: please, it hurts

Tarlanc: stiff-necked, stubborn

Lechenn: Sindarin word for Noldor elves.

Fennas: Doorway

Tinu Mín: our little star

NOTE: I think I'll stop here, folks. Round One goes to Thranduil. I decided he would be able to see the depth of the bond the two share within Elrond's eyes, as Tolkien alluded to that idea here and there. So he knows his son not only loves Elrond but is loved in return. That was perhaps a little cruel of him to suggest that Legolas and the child might both be lost in childbirth, but he has good reason to want to test Elrond. It must be hard to reconcile the love he has witnessed with the truth of Legolas' abasement. To be fair, there is real cause for concern over the pregnancy and Elrond's eyes are open to this now. He is going to take extra special care of his Wood Elf from here on out.

Hope you can all stomach this link with the Lost Sons of Dior for Legolas' Naneth. I just couldn't resist, and since we really know nothing about her I made her Elrond's distant cousin. This gives Legolas a hint of both Maiar and human genes through Dior, Elrond's grandfather. Remember, Dior's father was Beren, a human. It's all AU, mellyn, so grant me your tolerant forgiveness for diluting Legolas' ancestry this way. It is interesting to wonder if the children of Dior and Nimloth had to face the same choice Elrond and his brother, and all Elrond's children, faced. This now includes Legolas' babe, too. Seems like they would indeed have had to choose.

Now, we all know royals like to marry their cousins from time to time, so it isn't really so outrageous, and the kinship is sufficiently infiltrated by sylvan and Sindarin bloodlines to make it acceptable. At best, Elrond is Rhun'waew's eighth or ninth cousin; I'm not so good at figuring out those things, but I've put nine generations between Legolas and Eluréd, Elrond's uncle. She has more surprises in store for the Elven Lord and her young son soon.

Aras may seem insufferably cold and mean-spirited, but he feels justified in his disgust and mistrust. More on that to come, but obviously he is suffering greatly and maybe there is more going on with him than losing his Adar. We'll find out soon enough. As for Lindir, is he trying to make Erestor jealous or is he really attracted to Galion? Maybe both and that leaves Erestor in a lonely place. The seneschal just can't keep his prejudice from spilling out, can he? Let's hope he learns before he is challenged to a duel of combat over his wayward tongue.

I promise not to spend too much time on the 'extras' from Mirkwood, but I thought Legolas needed a best friend from his childhood (not really so long ago!) and so introduced Faron, a cousin close in age but older.

The idea that Thranduil attributes the changes he feels in his son to the intervention of Vilya is perhaps far-fetched. Maybe the protective Ada just can't accept the degree to which his beloved youngest child has had to depend upon the foreign Noldorin Lord. Easier to blame the changes on the Ring of Air than acknowledge the influence of Elrond. He must be torn between gratitude that the Lord of Imladris saved his son's life and anguish over how desperate the struggle must have been, how fully merged Legolas' spirit is with Elrond's.


Finally, thanks to one and all still reading and enjoying the story! I appreciate all the feedback and reviews very much.

© 04/29/2008 Ellen Robey