Gifts of the Valar.

Disclaimer: 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.
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Rumil walked with Charika to the library and held her close as they sat on one of the couches. He noted the tatequalme she held and took it gently, setting it against the arm of the couch. She rested against him quietly and he did not speak, simply stroking her palm as he held her hand. He did not know what had just happened; all he could think of was his gratitude that Charika had not been harmed.

His brothers came into the room joined by Helcarin and Pomea. Erestor and Durisia drifted in with Glorfindel. They remained quiet, each pondering the recent events and concerned for Legolas’ wellbeing. They did not wish to speculate without the others present, most notably Legolas and the newcomer, Naveradir.

In the Great Room, Legolas rested against the pillows on the couch, Alexandra kneeling next to him, her head lying against his chest and their fingers entwined. He could feel her unconditional love for him through their bond and drew strength from their shared love.

He could not believe what he had almost done---what he had done. The memories poured in on him and he shuddered in disgust. He was lost; he had committed the most unforgivable sin for one of the Firstborn: he had tried to take Alex by force. It mattered not that she was his wife; he had desired to use her body in anger and his to punish her. Then he had held a blade against her flesh, and prepared to kill her for a crime she had not even committed. He did not even allow himself to think about threatening his friends; he knew they would have tried to stop him without killing him, but still---he had forced them to draw their weapons against their kin.

“Sweet, Eru, what have I done?” His words were barely audible. Alex looked up at him and was struck by the anguish in his eyes. “Forgive me … please, forgive me,” he whispered.

“Shhh. I forgive you. Please, sweetheart, don’t be so hard on yourself. Just tell me what happened.” She had no idea where he had gotten the notion she had been sleeping with his friends.

“I … what I did to you is unforgivable, Alexandra. There is no penance strong enough to erase the stain from my soul.”

“You mean ruining this tunic? I’ll just get a new one.” She knew what he meant, but she didn’t know what to say that would comfort him, so she tried to deflect his fear with humor.

Legolas knew she was only trying to make him feel better and instead felt even more miserable for his treatment of this woman who loved him so much. “No, my love. I threatened you; I tried to kill you. Upstairs, in the tower, Alexandra, I … I tried to rape you.”

When he said the word, she closed her eyes. She’d hoped he wouldn’t call it that. For an Elf, it was worse than blasphemy; he felt as though he was damned forever.

“No, Legolas. Goroth and his men raped me. You … just wanted to join with me unexpectedly.” She was having trouble verbalizing what she wanted to say to him. Killing was one thing, but she had to get him away from the notion of rape---it was something an Elf could not rise above.

For the first time since his descent into despondency he met her eyes. “I planned to use my body to punish you; to take you by force. Then, I was going to kill you. I committed the ultimate sin.”

“Legolas, you did not try to rape me. Remember, I’ve got experience in that, and I know the difference between what happened to me in the Rhunian hills and what almost happened in that room. And you did not try to kill me, not really. When the time came, you could not do it no matter what Goroth tried to force you to do.”

He looked confused. “No, I---.”

She stroked his cheek and trailed her fingers through his silken hair. “My love, I could never deny you my body because I crave your touch at all times. Legolas,” she held his face and looked steadily into his eyes. “You cannot force someone who is willing.” She kissed him softly.

He knew what he’d done; although he had stopped short of taking her body or injuring her, he had been abusive. He had drawn his weapons, but she had been the one to put the blade to her flesh, and he had resisted the urge to finish the deed even though Goroth had urged him, making him see visions of his wife and his friends in all manner of adulterous situations. But if she did not consider herself violated, then was it possible he was not guilty of such an abomination? What would he have done if she had fought him? If she had tried to get away, had told him to stop? He would always wonder. But he had to take her word. She had been violated in the past, so she knew the difference.

He reached up and ran his fingertips over her cheek, tracing the line of her lips.

“I should have been stronger, my love. I did not even realize Goroth had taken up residence in my mind.”

“No, Legolas. He was an old Elf and probably had plenty of experience seducing others to his will. You were strong, my love. Goroth hated us both and you still managed to refrain from injuring any of us. You threw him out and withstood the shadow figures. You are the strongest Elf I know.”

He chuckled. “I do not feel strong at the moment. I am afraid I will need to lean on you for support if we are to join the others.” He sat up and she helped him to stand. He was so weary and wished only to rest; but curiosity about Naveradir would not let him rest. He also wished to apologize to the others.

When Alexandra opened the door of the Great Room, Naveradir was in the far corner of the hall, waiting patiently. He met Legolas’ gaze and bowed slightly. The prince smiled and returned the bow.

“Thank you,” he said and Naveradir smiled.

“You are welcome,” he said in heavily accented Sindarin.

“I thought you only spoke Quenya and Rhunian,” Alex said, puzzled.

“It seems the stronger I become, the more … abilities I am finding I possess.”

Legolas gazed at the Elf, questions swirling in his mind, but he did not wish to ask them when he knew the others would likely have many of the same ones they wanted answered.

“Come, join us in the library,” Vanurion said as he, Sarendir and Cunion entered through the front door of the manor. He looked at the former shadow-Elf. “We have many questions, Naveradir.”

“I do not doubt it,” he replied.

They found the others sitting quietly in the library and Legolas was greeted with smiles and relief. He nodded to his kin as Haldir and Glorfindel stood, leaving room for Legolas and Alexandra to sit on the couch opposite the one where Rumil and Charika sat alongside Erestor and Durisia. After Legolas sat, Alex knelt at his feet and leaned back between his knees, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Haldir sat next to him and Glorfindel perched on the arm.

He glanced at Glorfindel and the Elf-Lord met Legolas’ gaze. “Forgive me, my friend …”

“It is I who should beg your forgiveness,” Legolas cut in. “My weakness allowed me to be influenced by dark lies and a shadow to engulf my soul.” He gave a sad smile. “Perhaps, by challenging you, I thought you would end my torment by sending me to Mandos.”

Glorfindel looked down, then laughed softly. “I would have sped your journey, rest assured.”

Even Legolas chuckled. There was no possibility he could have defeated Glorfindel in battle. The absurdity of it in retrospect was amusing.

“I must apologize to you all,” Legolas said before any of the others could speak. “I did not realize Goroth dwelt within me. Forgive my weakness.”

“Goroth’s presence was not your fault,” Naveradir said. “He was always cunning and a master of choosing his opportunities for action. The fact that he managed to remain hidden for so long is a testament to his astute nature.”

“Still, I should have known.”

“Not necessarily,” Glorfindel said. “It is sometimes easy for the spirit of one of the houseless to find a new home; they are merely shadows themselves. That is why the shadow figures were drawn to him. He likely chose his moment when you had no reason to expect him; and you certainly had no reason to think he would try to make a home in your mind.”

Legolas looked unhappy, but could understand what the Elf-Lord was saying. Indeed he did not recall Goroth as an entity except for the memory of the dark visions with which the evil Elf had poisoned his mind.

“Do you even remember how it happened?” Orophin asked his friend.

Legolas shook his head. “I remember searching the tower to make certain it was secure. Then Rumil went ahead of me; we split up so we could cover more rooms.” He concentrated on the memory. “Then … I do not remember much except dreams. I would have dark dreams and memories would come to me of things that could not have been.” He did not mention the incident in the tower room; that was between him and his wife alone.

Legolas was ashamed of his weakness; he had allowed the lies to take on a life of their own.

“What did Goroth tell you?” Haldir knew it had something to do with accusing Alex of adultery, but, knowing how deeply in love she and Legolas were, he could not fathom those lies being believed.

The hurt in the prince’s eyes cut them all. “Terrible things,” he whispered. Taking a deep breath, he knew that by sharing his pain with those closest to him, he could begin to heal, even though it appalled him to admit to his weakness.

“I have been plagued with sudden and odd moments of suspicion for the past few years. Seemingly out of nowhere, I would get a flash of jealousy.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Poor Elrohir was often the focus of my ire. I am certain he often wondered what he had done to invite such persecution. Still, seemingly innocuous moments would take on sinister overtones and I suppose Goroth discovered I had become prey to suspicions and insecurities.”

“But, you have nothing to be insecure about.” Alex was dumbfounded. Legolas always seemed so self-assured and calm, she had never thought of him as vulnerable to the kinds of doubts she often suffered.

He looked at her in surprise. “But I have many insecurities, and when it comes to you, I suppose I have always feared losing you most of all. I think of you dying---your mortality is something that cannot be ignored and that is a very real fear---but losing you in other ways is also a fear I suffer: losing you to another, for example.”

She looked down to where their fingers were entwined and, bringing his hand to her lips, kissed it softly. When her eyes once again met his, he could see unshed tears making them bright. “You can never lose me, Legolas. I will always be yours, now and forever. I will always belong to you and you alone.”

“I know,” he whispered. The others looked away; the intensity of the emotion shared by Legolas and his wife was almost painful to observe at times, especially for some of them.

“What made you so convinced of the truth of the lies?” Erestor hated to interrupt the couple’s intimacy, but he was curious as to how Legolas could have become so certain Goroth’s falsehoods were the truth that he raised arms against his much beloved wife.

“His voice became indistinguishable from my own. Plus, I had already been having flashes of jealousy and he preyed on my fears for Alexandra. Then,” the memory of the dreams and the false memories caused his gorge to rise and he struggled to remain calm, “he began to show me things.”

“What kind of things? How?” Vanurion, like the others, could not fathom Legolas ever believing Alexandra capable of betraying him.

“Dreams, twisted memories; but I do not know now what was real and what was illusion. He showed me … visions of … you, my love. He sent me dreams and whispered dark thoughts to me.”

“What kind of visions?” she asked tentatively. Did she really want to know?

Legolas shook his head as if trying to clear his mind. “I saw you … with others. He showed me false memories and dreams of you in the arms of Glorfindel; of you and Erestor; even of you and Helcarin. You, with Haldir, Orophin and Rumil.” He gave a short bitter laugh. “He even showed me a vision of you with Vanurion, Sarendir and Cunion together.” He shook his head. “He substituted his own memories for mine. I saw you in the hills of Rhun … with the saddle and the stakes.”

The others could feel the palpable pain the memory brought to both Legolas and his wife. For the prince, seeing Alexandra’s rape through Goroth’s eyes must have been beyond horrifying, especially if he felt the same sensations as the evil Elf would have remembered. For Alexandra, knowing her husband had borne witness to her abuse likely brought back the feelings she had struggled so long to overcome.

Legolas looked at his wife. She still sat at his feet, holding his hand. He saw no blame, however, in her eyes. “I shall have to try to make amends, my love,” he said quietly. “My wife endures much on my behalf. I do not know why she does it.”

“Because I love you more than anything, Legolas,” she answered, kissing the hand she held.

“I love you more than words can express, my wife,” he answered and brought his lips to hers in a sweet, but passionate kiss.

The other Elves found the scene beautiful and Erestor held Durisia to him, thinking on how he would have felt in Legolas’ place. Sharing a bond of marriage with the elleth helped him to appreciate the pain Legolas and his wife had endured at the hands of those who wished them ill; yet their love was strong and resilient, stronger than ever, perhaps because of the tests it had faced.

“Well this is all quite touching, but I, for one, would like to know more about our mysterious new friend,” Haldir said looking at Naveradir with a slight smile.

The newcomer shook his head. “I assure you, my story is not very interesting.” His command of Sindarin was growing as was his strength. The more he listened to them, the more he was able to speak, but his accent was still heavily influenced by his Rhunian heritage.

“If we waited for Legolas and Alexandra to cease their constant displays of devotion, we would never accomplish anything,” the Marchwarden replied. “We have found it most expedient to simply proceed. They will catch up to us eventually.”

The others chuckled, even the eastern Elves who, in the short time they had known the prince and his wife, could attest to the truth of Haldir’s words.

Legolas laughed and Alexandra gave Haldir a disdainful glance along with the gesture with which they had become familiar. He simply smirked in return.

“Yes,” the prince said. “By all means, we must know more about how you came to be here and what happened to bring these events to pass.”

Naveradir looked at the Elves gathered in the room, all of them watching him. He was struck by how different they were from him, though a few of them were quite old. Glorfindel was unlike the rest, though he was not sure how. Those of his eastern kin, however, were at once similar, but very different. He took a deep breath and began.

“I was born under the stars before the Great Journey. When Goroth decided to remain here and convinced many of our kin to do the same, I longed to continue the journey; but I could not leave my family and so I stayed. I served as required, helping to protect my kin from the different threats that surrounded us. I was also here when Goroth began his quest to breed his armies. It seemed logical at first, but when I saw how they were treated, it preyed on my conscience. By then, however, it was too late to escape without paying a terrible price.

“About the time the sun and moon were put into the sky, Goroth decided he wished the Waters of the Awakening for use in building this keep. He ordered me to go back to Cuivienen and find them, bringing back carts full of large jars filled with the sacred waters. You have the journal of the trip so I need not go into that. And you found my personal diary so you know how they were used.”

“You left it in our chamber,” Erestor said.

“Aye. I wished you to find the answers you sought. At least some of them were in it, that is.”

“What effect did the waters have on you after ingesting them?” Glorfindel asked.

“At first, none, I thought. But later, it seems, they have managed to allow me to remain … intact, I suppose you could say. By all I know of our kind, I should not be here now. My soul should have gone to Mandos, but I remained here.” His eyes drifted to Helcarin for a moment then back over the group in general. “I recall a beautiful light that was of many colors and the call was irresistible. I could hear waves, like those at the Sea of Rhun north of here, and could smell the salt. But I was told to remain. I cannot remember now who it was, but the voice was so serene and I felt at peace. It told me it was not yet my time.”

Legolas squeezed Alexandra’s hand, recalling his own experience on those same shores.

“What happened to you?” Vanurion asked. “The most I remember is my father mentioning your name in connection with some war with Dwarves further east. I thought you were killed there.”

Naveradir shook his head. “That is what Goroth told everyone. I made the fatal mistake of openly defying him when it came to his treatment of the mortals of this realm. I refused to rape any more of his prisoners simply to breed children for him to either toss into the pit if they did not meet his standards or to sacrifice on the altar of his lust for power. Needless to say, he took exception to my refusal.”

Sarendir, Vanurion and Cunion all nodded in understanding. They knew first-hand what defying Goroth meant.

“He punished you because you would not impregnate his prisoners?” Rumil was disgusted. “He was nothing more than a slavemaster.”

“Aye,” Naveradir replied. “He enslaved us all, Elf and mortal alike.”

“What did he do to you?” Pomea could not resist asking.

“His favorite means of execution: he had me flayed until the blood ran freely then staked out for the warg to feed upon. The scent of blood drives them to feed.”

His statement was met with shocked silence and none of his listeners were immune to the horror brought by the image his words inspired.

“You were … did you fade before …?” Alexandra could not imagine the pain he must have endured.

Naveradir’s smile was somewhat sad. “Nay, my lady. I do not know why I continued to hold onto life. It would have been better had I simply let go under the lash, but I did not. I remained aware until the teeth of one of the warg tore into my heart and it ceased.”

Durisia shook her head and buried her face against her husband’s shoulder. Erestor had never heard of such a monstrous ordeal in all of his long years and was as distressed as his wife, but his millennia of self discipline allowed him to remain impassive.

The others could not fathom such depths of cruelty. Legolas felt unclean from having been inhabited by Goroth’s spirit and wondered if he would ever feel free from the miasma of perverted evil with which the twisted Elf covered everything he encountered.

“Why was your punishment so severe?” Vanurion’s father had been killed in the same way, but had blessedly given up his life before the warg managed to maim him too badly.

“Because I dared to refuse him in front of others and to give my reasons. Your father knew what would happen when he questioned Goroth. I did not think his punishment of me would be so harsh, but he never hesitated to strike down anyone who defied him.”

“I still cannot believe he sentenced people to such a fate,” Haldir said, his voice tinged with disgust. “How could he do that to his own kin?”

“He killed his own children without qualm. I suppose I should have known I would face the same sentence. I thought it only applied to his mortal offspring, but obviously none of his children were immune.”

The implication of his words was not lost on his listeners.

“Are you saying you are one of Goroth’s children?” Cunion asked. Indeed there was a resemblance to Goroth, Vanurion and Sarendir, but then most of the eastern Elves were related in some way.

“I was his firstborn child.”

Pomea shook her head. “Even Goroth could not be so …” She looked at Helcarin. “You still think Eru will forgive us?”

“Goroth’s sins are not yours,” the northern Elf replied. “You cannot be held accountable for his actions.”

“You speak truly, young friend,” Naveradir said. “Goroth must answer for his deeds. Even now he is a prisoner of the shadows, taken back to Lastharos. Someday he will have to face Mandos’ judgment and he knows it will be terrible, though being a slave to darkness is a torment I would not wish to endure. I would rather dwell in the void.”

“What happened to you after you came back from Mandos?” Glorfindel was curious about this Elf’s experience. It was similar to his, but not exactly so.

“I do not remember much but darkness and cold for quite some time. I remember thinking I had been sent to the void after all, something I no doubt deserved. Eventually, however, I saw light. Not the light that called my spirit from my body, but the light of the stars. I realized I could move through things. I could not feel my body because I had none. I was as one of the houseless, but not dead. Soon I found I could see and hear those around me, but they could not see or hear me. Still, I took comfort from being near my kin.” Again, his eyes moved to Vanurion and Sarendir.

The Elves were struck by how lonely Naveradir’s existence must have been, unable to interact with his family and friends. He could see and hear them, true, but was separated from them as if imprisoned.

“I saw the evil deeds of Goroth and those who followed him. I heard the cries of his victims and saw the deaths of my children in his wars of avarice and in the dungeon. I saw the cast-offs in the pit and wanted to help them, but I had no form. I even saw my own body in the pit eventually covered with the bodies of my children’s children. I saw the daughters I begat on some of the females take their place as breeding stock for the Elf who sired me.

“But I also saw that my kin were not all lost. I saw the strength of many who stood against Goroth, though they paid the price for their defiance. I saw happiness in many once I realized I could leave this place. I spent much time watching over Vanurion’s house. It was a much happier place than this one.” His kinsman smiled.

“Would that you had been able to make your presence known,” Vanurion told him.

“I stopped trying after I realized it would not happen.”

“How then did it come to pass that you regained your form?” Glorfindel knew the Valar could re-embody an Elf, but Naveradir had not actually died … or had he? It was not a simple situation.

“I was drawn to a mortal female who came to dwell with Vanurion.” Naveradir looked at Charika who gave a slight gasp.

“Me? What did I …?”

“I knew that somehow you would be able to see me. You are unlike other mortals I have known. You could see the spirits of the dead. I saw you watching them. And you … possessed something that put you in danger.” He had heard her tell Alexandra about her desire to protect her son by denying him and could respect her decision. “I did what I could to protect you from the creatures of darkness who were drawn to Goroth’s lost spirit. I discovered I could hide your presence from them as they passed. Once you came here, however, you were at the center of their search area.

“Then someone else came and I began to feel even stronger.” His gaze fell on Helcarin. “I felt peace and comfort, much as I had when my soul slipped free of my body.”

“Not … I am simply an Elf. I have no special gifts.” Helcarin felt the others eyes on him and was forced to admit he found it disconcerting to be the center of attention.

“No, you are not a simple Elf,” Naveradir replied. “You possess a gift you may not even know of yet. Perhaps it was the fact that you cleared this place of many of the reminders of Goroth’s evil that helped me to regain strength. Then again, it could be that all of you are strong yourselves and give off your own auras of power and resistance to evil that helped give me the strength to once again become whole.”

“Or it could be a combination of both reasons. Or even simply the will of Eru,” Erestor suggested.

“True. Were it not his will, I would no doubt still be a formless shadow.”

“Is it safe now? With Goroth gone I don’t feel as if there’s a threat against Legolas anymore,” Alexandra said as she squeezed her husband’s hand.

“It is likely Lastharos’ creatures will not return unless he decides to have them investigate the Elves here. They may have recognized Legolas or you as Lastharos has seen you both. I knew Charika would be a touchstone for them which was why I felt it imperative to try to shield her.”

“What is Lastharos?” Rumil needed to know.

“He was born a mortal, from all I have heard, though I believe he has Elven blood somewhere in his ancestry. He discovered the Sacred Waters and drank them, bathed in them and achieved immortality, though he is still human. He can be killed.” His calm gaze rested on the young warden and his lady. “Every millennium he returns to Cuivienen to once again drink the waters and immerse himself in them though I do not know if it is truly necessary. I think he simply enjoys being where the Elves began. He craves our kind. I do not know why.”

“Lastharos craves anything pure simply so he can destroy it,” Charika said.

“As horrible as Goroth was, he still fears Lastharos. That says something about how truly evil that creature is.” Alexandra wanted to bathe. The revelations about the former Lord of the Elves of Rhun made her feel dirty, especially when she remembered how he had used her, filling her with his seed. She felt Legolas lean down and wrap his arms around her, kissing the top of her head and was grateful he had washed away all trace of the foul creature from her body.

“I believe Lastharos was always somewhat twisted. However, had he not achieved immortality, he would likely have died after perhaps a century and his evil would not have had the chance to grow. As it is, though, he has had thousands of years to let his love of fear, pain and humiliation of others grow to the point where he has gone insane. He tortures, rapes and kills without qualm because he believes he will never have to answer to anyone.” Naveradir shook his head. “It is as though he tries to surpass Melkor himself.”

The first rays of dawn lightened the sky, bringing a lightening of the atmosphere in the room which was heavy with sadness and anger over the deeds of Goroth and Lastharos.

“You should all rest, especially you, Legolas,” Naveradir said. “I believe this place is safe for now.”

“What of you?” Sarendir asked. “Surely you must be weary.”

“I have not yet felt the call of my body,” he said with a smile. “I wish to go to the tower and feel the sun on my flesh and smell the fresh snow.”

The others certainly understood and as they slowly drifted to their chambers to rest, Legolas and Rumil paused to thank him individually for his help.

“You would have been able to throw Goroth’s influence off on your own,” the ancient Elf told Legolas.

“I do not know. I like to think I would have.” He bowed respectfully to the Elf then walked upstairs to their chamber, Alexandra’s arm about his waist.

“Thank you for shielding Charika from Lastharos’ minions,” Rumil said. “I … she has suffered much at his hands.”

“I do not know all that she has endured, but I could sense her terror of him. He is a frightening prospect to face and that she has done so and survived is remarkable.”

“He raped and tortured her terribly and has threatened to find her again and take her. I have sworn to kill him before I leave Middle-Earth.”

Naveradir nodded. “I hope you are granted that opportunity. He is a bane upon all, mortal and Elf alike.”

When they had all departed, Naveradir walked up to the top of the tallest tower and out onto the roof. He stood facing the rising sun and closed his eyes as its rays kissed his golden-tinted skin. Inhaling deeply he could smell the snow as well as the vaguest hint of the sea far to the north and smiled. It had been so long---so very long---since he had been able to smell or feel … or taste. He realized he was hungry, a sensation he had not experienced in over 6000 years. He would have to find something to eat, maybe some lembas; but first, he wished to remain just where he was for a bit. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to Eru and to the Valar for the gift he had been given, this new life he now found himself living.