Alagos Oraearon (Storm over the Ocean)

Part Four


A month sped by and still Elrohir remained in exile, defying the bond incurred by the valourous efforts the three Noldorin Lords had expended to salvage the lowly Mirkwood archer. Then, he had felt pity for the Wood Elf, the sole survivor of a savage and brutal attack by Orcs. Why the small company of woodland folk were travelling through Eregion was still a mystery, for the last of the elusive warriors existed now in perpetual disassociation from reality, be it past or present. That might once have moved the younger of the twins to sympathy, too, but Elladan's desertion in favour of the Wood Elf reduced any charitable emotion to raw, ugly jealousy, for the twins had forged between them, long centuries past, a bond of souls in the way of mated pairs. Elrohir masked his anguish over the loss of this vital connection with fury and hatred for Legolas, relenting to the demands of the strange, unwelcome attraction with brutality and sadism.

It was not even to afflict Legolas so much as to rebuke Elladan that he indulged his darkest passions, yet seeing that his brother could so easily be injured in spirit by the Wood Elf's plight only fuelled Elrohir's brutish lust. Even now, wandering the wasted plains of Hollin, Elrohir felt the pull of the bond, longing to return to the valley and demand his rights over the forlorn Wood Elf. To Mithlond he had determined to go, there to dwell beside the sea or take ship across it to Aman, yet he could not make himself go beyond the empty lands wherein he had first encountered the archer. He cursed aloud and turned for Imladris, willing Elladan to ride forth to him, to leave with him forever, if need be, the source of their division and torment. It was not his brother that he met.

Now Glorfindel had indeed left Imladris due to the gross obscenity, as he perceived it, of the four-way bond. To see his Lord reduced to such depraved compulsion, to know he indulged it, to understand the part the sons played in the scandalous tetrad, these were circumstances he could not abide in peace. Difficult enough it would have been to abide a bond between the revered Lord and the humble sylvan, awkward enough to countenance intimate union with another male, but the sharing of the Wood Elf's body between the father and sons was an abomination he deemed of evil origin. His first recourse was to exhort his Lord to resist the call of the sylvan's soul and deny the pleasures of the flesh that call inspired, but these efforts to awaken Elrond to the perversion inherent in the unclean bond failed.

The noble scion of Eärendil could not see how base he had become, rationalising his acts as commonplace and insisting his motives were altruistic. Initially, the Balrog Slayer reasoned, it was likely so, but as years wore on the sylvan was reduced by degrees until he had ceased to be viewed as a person, one of Eru's Children, and this was a horrendous abuse. Sylvan he was and no doubt the forest folk were not as refined and cultured as the Noldor, but First-born they were and not the least among them should ever be treated as anything lesser. Under Elrond's possession, Legolas received not even the consideration the Lord granted to his horses and hounds, not one of which had ever been misused or struck. Glorfindel had seen bruises aplenty on the Wood Elf's body, for Elrond kept him but scantily clothed if not utterly nude, allowing all to see the marks of passion, the abrasions of lust, and the contusions of perpetual bondage.

All this moved Glorfindel to beg aid of Galadriel but ere he took that step he thought better of it, deeming how great an insult to the memory of her daughter this despicable union would be. The iniquity that had finally driven him to drastic measures made him shudder to recall, for all three of the Lords of Imladris had descended upon the Wood Elf, partaking of him together in the Hall of Fire, caring not who would enter to observe the scene. The sight of them all rhythmically pumping into the bound figure, the twins at the rear, Elrond rocking and groaning as he spilled down the sylvan's throat, had sickened the Balrog Slayer more than any heinous atrocity he had witnessed on the battlefield, counting both his life-times upon arda.

Yet he was not one to abandon a sacred oath and he considered his service to Elrond's House a trust conferred by no less than Manwë himself. Therefore, Glorfindel left the Valley not to seek a new haven for himself but to find the wizard, Mithrandir, and beg him to break the unholy spell. This took time, for the Istar was not in the habit of reporting his comings and goings upon Arda to anyone. At last he was discovered far to the south near Gondor, sneaking about the noisome bogs and swamps of Mindalf, the Wetwang. He had with him Aragorn, who had begun his time of errantry and was obviously on some mission of import at the wizard's behest, yet neither would reveal the cause that drew them so close to Mordor and the foul fens of the Dead Marshes. Upon hearing Glorfindel's report, both were willing to set aside this unnamed purpose and return to Imladris, there to assess the situation and render a remedy, if any could be wrought. Now they came through Eregion and spied Elrohir alone, a fey light within his grey eyes, and they hastened to greet him.

"What news of Imladris?" asked Glorfindel. "Is Elladan not with you?"

"You see that he is not," spat Elrohir in black rage. "Does it amuse you to find me outcast and abandoned? Why have you come back, Glorfindel? I thought you disapproved of our lovely golden bond-slave."

"I do indeed, and that is also the answer to your question. Here is Mithrandir to make an end of the loathsome alliance enjoined with the sylvan archer from Mirkwood," he answered.

"Can you break such a bond, wizard?" demanded the younger of the twins and there was a spark of hope in his eyes.

"I will know when I come to him, but I hope it may be so. What Glorfindel has described is not the nature of the bond of extremis which links a dying sylvan soul to a healthy one. The Wood Elves do not engage in the sort of debasement you, your brother, and your father have visited upon Legolas. Among his people, these bonds are deemed true and are recognised with honour, else the salvaged elf is sent away to Aman in shame," Mithrandir lectured, assessing Elrohir's mood with sorrow and concern, for even given the grief of his mother's torment, Elrohir had never been so immersed in rancourous despair.

"We have not debased him," claimed Elrohir. "He came to us that way."

"That cannot be true," objected Aragorn. "Is he not elf-kind? Wood Elf or not, he deserves to be treated with the dignity granted to all the First-born. It was not to wound you that he fell into such dire straights."

"Do not reprove me, Estel, for you have no knowledge fit to bear upon this subject. Save you words until you have seen what we have to deal with now," snapped Elrohir and he spurred his horse into a gallop, hoping to leave them behind.

The three riders would not permit it, following close on his charger's hooves, and the four thundered over the Ross'hir, shocking the guard stationed there so much that he called for reinforcements, believing there must be a company of Orcs on their tails. So Glorfindel returned to Imladris, and with Elrohir as unwilling guide came finally to the high walled garden wherein the Elven Lord imprisoned his bond-slave when he had duties to attend. From within issued a plaintive song, the voice fair but filled with unbearable sorrow. The gate was bolted and locked and Elrohir had just opened his mouth to demand they retire to the Last Homely House when Mithrandir spoke a word of command and broke the door at its hasps and hinges, so angry was he.

Alone among the four, he suspected the truth of Legolas' identity and feared the consequences should the Elven King come searching for his youngest son. Enough prejudice existed in Imladris against the forest folk without adding to it the notion that Thranduil was behind the enthralment of their noble Lords. The wizard hastened into the grounds, shoving Elrohir roughly aside, and soon came upon the languishing soul perched in the lower branches of an ancient oak. A loud gasp arose from Aragorn and Mithrandir turned to see the Dûnadan's face contorted in outrage, for the Wood Elf was bound at the hands and hobbled at the feet and naked. He was no longer singing, staring at the unexpected visitors through vague and shrouded eyes.

"It has grown worse since my absence," intoned Glorfindel sourly.

"Aye, we seldom kept him captive thus before," said Elrohir. "Perhaps he has attempted again to end his life." He approached the tree and reached up, seizing the Wood Elf's ankle and peering into the befuddled face. "Is that what happened? Were you so distraught with my desertion that you could not abide to remain in Arda?" He laughed brusquely as the sylvan shied away from him and would have yanked the elf from the branch but for the Balrog-slayer.

"Enough!" bellowed Glorfindel and snatched Elrohir back. "You have tormented him beyond all abiding and I for one have no wish to watch you ravish him where he lies." Then he turned to the wizard. "I will take him with me to the house and await you there. See if there is any help you can render that ill-fated archer." With that he went from the garden and took Elrond's younger son with him under force.

Now Aragorn moved to stand beneath the tree, worried for Legolas was making efforts to get higher, a difficult manoeuvre with his legs and hands restrained. Yet the tree itself aided the Wood Elf and before long he had attained a loftier spot, once more settled close against the trunk, humming softly as he gazed at the wizard obliquely now and then. Aragorn frowned and turned to Gandalf.

"I do not like this," he said. "Not only is he fettered, but he appears to be heavily sedated. Why would Elrond do such?"

"I suspect it is magic, though not of any sort the sylvan folk can make," opined Mithrandir. "Elrond may be proud and bear unjustified prejudice against Legolas' people, but he is neither cruel nor evil in his nature, nor are his sons. Yet evil has been done even as Glorfindel said." He smiled as the sound of his voice drew the Wood Elf once more to blinking scrutiny of his face. "See if you can coax him down, Aragorn."

The Man sent the Istar a look expressive of his opinion of this request, finding the likelihood of Legolas responding to him dubious at best. Nonetheless, one does not argue with a wizard and so he clambered awkwardly into the tree. When he had achieved a level near to the sylvan he paused and found the elf watching him intently, limbs tense and ready to spring away. He offered a kind smile and raised a hand in greeting.

"Suilad, Legolas. I am Aragorn, an elf-friend, and here is Mithrandir, an Istar and one of the disciples of Manwë. We have come to give you whatever aid we might." Gently he settled his hand on the bare calf and was surprised when the elf did not try to kick him in the teeth. Legolas was looking again to Mithrandir, brow furrowed as he struggled to recall the face of the ancient Maia. While his attention was thus diverted, the Man cut through the hithlain ropes about his ankles and tossed them to the ground.

"M'thra'dir?" the elf slurred, eyes growing wide as again he tried to gather his thoughts. "Ada's friend."

"Yes, young one, that is right," said the wizard, smiling warmly. "We met when you were just a child, though that was not so long ago. This Man, Aragorn, is my friend and thus also your Ada's friend, and now yours also. Climb down and let him untie your hands."

New energy animated the sylvan's form and he leaped from the protection of the tree, landing before the wizard with only a slight wobble. "Mithrandir," he said, the word more distinct this time, and without further preamble went and laid his head against the Istar's rough grey robes. A deep sigh shook him and then he exhaled a faint trilling purr as the powerful emissary of the Blessed wrapped comforting arms around him.

"Aye, you are safe now, pen neth," crooned Mithrandir, softly stroking the head of golden hair and rubbing the tense shoulders. He held Legolas close and felt the subtle change in breathing that surely signalled the onset of tears. Quietly, so that only Legolas could hear, he murmured an incantation in the Wood Elf's ear. There was no visible sign of any effect, but the wizard had faith his prayer had chased away the ugly shade crowding the Wood Elf's argent aura.

While the Maia cleared the sylvan's soul, Aragorn freed his hands. At once those hands moved forward and took hold of the lengthy mass of the wizard's beard, entwining the straggling strands about the fingers, and the Man chuckled, finding it child-like and evocative of the elf's youth. Then his smile departed, for he could denote the bones of the lean, spare back too well, the vertebrae and ribs easy to count. Legolas seemed half-starved. On impulse, the Man removed his cloak and draped it over the naked body, feeling instinctively that Legolas would not wish to be so vulnerable in the presence of people he did not know.

"He is wasting away, Gandalf, here in the most lush and abundant of all the realms of Arda! Master Elrond has much to explain," Aragorn complained.

"It is not in his knowledge to explicate this dire conundrum, for in many ways the effect was not expected, even by the creator of the hideous poison," said Gandalf. "I am sure that once released from its unnatural influence, Lord Elrond will be horrified to realise what he has done."

"Then you attribute all that has transpired to the toxic agent the Orcs perfected?"

"It was surely not the Orcs who invented it, Aragorn, but I am nearly certain that is the root of the strange… What did you say?" Mithrandir interrupted his own sentence, reacting to a query by the sylvan prince that shocked him utterly. Carefully he eased the slender figure out from him enough to search the drug-hazed eyes.

"My son, is he well? Has the potion harmed him?" Legolas repeated, his thoughts growing sharper by the second as the wizard's prayer worked to bolster his natural defences and flush the remains of Elrond's soporific from his system.

"I know not what you can possibly mean," answered the wizard, concerned over this delusion and uncertain whether he should try to reason with the elf or simply let him regain clarity on his own.

"Oh!" Aragorn exclaimed, eyes bulging as they tracked over Legolas, looking now with the healing insight gifted to him by virtue of his ancient lineage to Elros and through him to Melian. "Gandalf, he is serious. This elf is with child. Look and you will see."

"Aye," murmured Legolas and his hands settled over his abdomen protectively. "I refused his food and drink until he and Elladan forced it in me. Even then I tried to regurgitate most of it. He must have used a very large quantity of the herbs, for I last saw him last night when they did this and can remember nothing of the interval in between."

"Oh dear," intoned Mithrandir. "Legolas, what were you thinking? This is really not the best time to reproduce."

"Nay, it is the only time, wizard. It is the will of the Valar, and their prompting has brought you here to me now. Quickly, we need to get away from Imladris. I must return to my people, for I would see my Naneth." Legolas was fully in command of his faculties again and realised the chance he had prayed for had at last arrived. Impatiently he tugged on the Maia's arm, pulling the cloak about him closer as he whistled for the horses.

"Wait! You cannot go racing away on horseback naked and with no provisions," exclaimed Aragorn, reaching for Legolas' arm. "You are in no condition to manage so gruelling a journey."

"Who are you to detain me, a prince of Greenwood?" demanded the sylvan, eyeing the Man curiously, for there was about the human a depth and intelligence he was unused to finding in the Second-born.

"Aragorn is a friend, Legolas, and a gifted healer," Mithrandir answered for him since Aragorn was staring speechless with mouth ajar at the sylvan elf. "Heed his advise, for if he doubts you are strong enough to endure the hardships of the trail then you would endanger yourself and the child to risk it."

"A healer?" Legolas surveyed the Man with eager eyes and took a step toward him. "You can tell if my babe is well and strong?"

"I can, Ernilen," he answered honestly and dipped his head in respect, shocked beyond thought to realise this unfortunate soul was the son of the Woodland King. "I would also recommend a thorough physical examination, for your own health has suffered since the battle that brought you to Imladris."

"I am not called that by anyone except Galion," said Legolas, an amused smile reaching his eyes for the first time in more days than he wished to count. "Legolas will do. I will submit to your care, Aragorn, if it will aid my retreat. It is imperative that I leave here as soon as possible. Elrond will only detain me with stronger medicines and tighter bonds if he learns I am free."

"He knows already," explained Mithrandir. "It is Glorfindel who fetched me hither, not the Valar, and he has already gone up to the house with Elrohir in tow. You were not in command of your consciousness or you would recall this. Yet do not despair, for I feel positive the effects of the magic infecting Elrond and his sons can be expunged. There may be no need to flee at all."

"Magic! You, learned in the arts of sorcery, would accuse me as well? I have made no spell to bind the Lord of Imladris to me, nor his wretched sons!" Legolas seethed, standing tall and drawing Aragorn's cloak tight about him. "I see it now; you are the Noldorin Lord's friend more than my Adar's and would conspire to keep me here. It will avail you not, for I have sent word to my people and they will come for me." He stepped back and turned to leave the garden, intending to escape into the wild woods in the high hills surrounding the vale, but the wizard was quicker in fact than he seemed in form and blocked his way.

"Stop! I am not in league with Elrond, nor is he in his right mind. Magic there is though it does not stem from you, Legolas, but a malignant source bent on destruction of the First-born: Sauron."

Elf and Man gasped in unison, though this was the only likely answer for the events that had occurred in fair Imladris; events of so unclean a nature that Orcs would find them a delight. The idea spawned a bright and gleaming hope in Legolas' heart.

"You can free him from this thraldom. Once you do, all will be well."

Before anyone could comment on this remark, hurrying footsteps sounded as Elrond, the Twins, Glorfindel, and Erestor raced across the grounds and entered the garden through the broken gate.

"Mithrandir, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Elrond. "Long have we been allies, yet I find you arrived in my realm intending to steal away my bond-mate? Legolas is mine and you will step back from him at once." The Elven Lord's face was dark and thunderous and his eyes flashed with fury as they moved from the wizard to his foster-son to Legolas. "Running off with the first person you encounter, this is how you repay my charity?" he shouted, pointing at the Wood Elf.

"Silence!" bellowed Mithrandir, raising his arms and commanding even the water to cease its gentle rustling. Then he held out his hand for his staff and the heavy, gnarled rod flew to his grasp, a spark of bright fire dancing around his fingers where they gripped it. He lifted it high over the head of the Elven Lord. "Elrond Half-elven, leader of the remnant of the Noldor, last of the mighty princes of that ill-fated race, Heir to Ereinion, Keeper of Vilya, and chosen protector of the Kings of Men, by my command and the will of Manwë you are released of this burden of darkness and freed from the bondage of the black poison! You, and your sons alongside you, open your eyes and see the truth revealed!"

The wizard's words rang with the power and majesty of Aman and the deep and echoing tones shook the ground beneath their feet. A great rush of air, dank and foetid, rolled over the garden yet not so much as a leaf fluttered and in its passing the light of Anor seemed brighter and the breath of the Wind Lord sweet in the lungs of the people gathered there. The silence that followed was fraught with uncertainty, a mood that quickly gave way to unspeakable dismay as each of Imladris' Lords looked upon Legolas and saw with absolute clarity the crimes and the sins of which all three were guilty.

The twins clung together until Elrohir had to turn away, crumpling to the ground where he retched violently, Elladan beside him trying to soothe his bitter remorse.

"Ai Valar!" Elrond cried and cast himself down on his knees, covering his face for he could not bear to see Legolas nor endure the censure in the stark black glare of the ancient Maia. "What have I done? May Manwë forgive me." Then he raised his head and met the clear blue eyes of the elf he had so terribly wronged. "Legolas, I am profoundly ashamed and can only beg your forgiveness. It was not in my heart to treat you so basely."

Then Legolas did a remarkable thing. His heart was generous and true and he was ready to forget all the suffering endured and absolve Elrond of his crimes. Therefore he went to the mighty Lord and lifted him up again, holding to his hands, offering a warm smile and sincere praise instead of harsh denunciations.

"Hîren, that is easily done and gladly. This villainy was not of your making nor your intention and I hold you blameless in all that passed between us. Let it be forgotten, for now we can proclaim the joy such bonds were meant to sponsor and I will walk beside you always, your devoted mate for all time."

The reaction to this heartfelt exoneration and proposal combined was not what the sylvan elf expected. He found himself staring into grey eyes stricken with anguish and filled with pity. A pit opened beneath Legolas' heart and he struggled to surmount the sharp agony its drop precipitated.

"Legolas," Elrond began, lifting a hand to cover the fair cheek, both awed by the depth of love the Wood Elf must feel to grant him amnesty and perturbed by the terms demanded to affect that pardon. He was not desirous of a permanent bond with this child of the woods, lovely though he was and sweet though their joining be. "That is not possible. A Lord of the Noldorin folk cannot seal an eternal bond of union with a male sylvan from Mirkwood."

"Cannot?" Legolas cried, his face going white in both shame and fury. He let go the elder elf's hands and stepped back. "You will scorn me after all, even with the spell broken and the poison driven out, your heart remains closed to me." Then his eyes flickered to the twins, still crouched upon the ground, clutching one another, staring at him in a mixture of dread and gratitude. They would never be able to separate him from the breach between them and ever would that wound lead to resentment. "Nay, no heart for me or hên-muindoren (my child-brother)." Then he turned to Mithrandir and offered him a grim smile. "You see, it was the will of the Valar you came, for here I am not welcome nor would my child be embraced. However difficult the journey, I have no choice now but to make it." Once more he went and bent his head upon the wizard's chest and let the Maia draw him close.

"Child? What does he mean?" asked Erestor, leery of the answer, his sight travelling from his cousin to the Twins to Mithrandir and back.

"Legolas, you need not leave until your health improves," Elrond insisted, taking a half-step toward the slumped figure bundled in the flowing cloak and the wizard's protection. The reference to a child failed to anchor in his thoughts, so overwrought with guilt was he, or perhaps these were words he simply chose not to hear.

"We are not fit to have you as our mate," whispered Elladan sadly, "and even less suited to get you with child. You deserve someone who will love you with all the capacity his heart contains." Beside him Elrohir flinched but Elladan would not permit him to get free and slink away. Face him. It is the least you can do and if you want me beside you through the penance we must remit, you will do it now.

"I…I know of no apology that can cover the things done to you by my hands," he said, struggling to make the words pass his lips and his eyes meet the woodland archer's, for like his father Elrohir was proud and unwilling to humble himself, even when his deeds demanded it for the betterment of his soul.

"So be it," hissed Legolas. "No apology in words shall ever erase the debt you owe to me, Elrohir of Imladris. I will subject you to no other judgement; let the memory of what you have done inspire the suffering you will undergo to expiate your guilt." Then he turned and left the garden, striding for the house to gather what he might to see him through the journey, and Aragorn hastened after him. Hearing the footsteps, Legolas' heart cringed again, for they did not denote the light, purposeful pace of his chosen mate. Yet he did not hinder the Man though no words passed between them as they continued across the grounds.

"Are you still standing here, Elrond?" barked Mithrandir angrily. "There goes your mate, the second one to march away from your lands and leave you bereft of comfort and company."

Elrond startled and gaped at the wizard, but could not manage a fitting rebuttal and his eyes turned to follow the diminishing form of the sylvan archer and his foster-son. A strong pang of fear shot through him as the idea that he might never see the Wood Elf again manifested in his thoughts. He squelched it, scoffing at the irrational notion, for surely Legolas would not attempt the lengthy trip until his health was restored.

"Mithrandir, there is more happening here than has been revealed," suggested Glorfindel. Like Erestor, he had heard clearly Legolas' words and did not discount them. "Let us follow the Wood Elf and hold conference together, for I perceive my instincts were true: this convoluted catastrophe is not to be so easily resolved."

"You are right," nodded Mithrandir, "but I fear now that no resolution may come, at least not a happy one. If only you had found me sooner, this might have been prevented and the loss of so bright a soul averted."

Elrond and Erestor shared between them a look filled with alarm and each demanded an full explanation of these cryptic words, but nothing more would Mithrandir say. He set off in Legolas' wake and all the noble elves trailed after. Together they came to Elrond's study and there he revealed what he knew of the black spell that had contaminated the best intentions of the three Lords and sullied the purpose of the sylvan instinct for preservation.

The poison with which Legolas had been injected during battle, previously without antidote and lethal, had mingled with the unique chemistry stirring in his blood, altering the wholesome nature of the call of his soul. Through their converse with him, an urge Elrond and his sons could not deny by virtue of their sylvan ancestry, they had been infected as well. Then all four were caught in the destructive enmity which had generated the malignant magic permeating the Orcs and their toxin, though Mithrandir named the wrong source for that malevolent artistry, not yet suspecting that another of his Order would seek for power over the lands and peoples of Middle-earth.

"This is clear to me," said Glorfindel, "and now that you have revealed it, I fail to comprehend why I did not suspect something akin to it."

"We were all ready to lay the fault upon Legolas and the sylvan bonding instinct," said Elladan.

"That is likely so," Erestor remarked, "but does not count for much nor explain what Legolas meant when he referred to his child-brother. Mithrandir, can you illuminate that issue?"

"It is what you suspect," answered the Maia. "Legolas has conceived and considers his child a vessel for the rebirth of his brother, whose death he accounts a sin for which he must atone."

"Conceived?" Elrond shot from his chair in shock and dread both, eyes flying to the shut door of the bedroom behind which Legolas and Aragorn remained. "He is not fit to bear a child and has no mate to grant him the strength he will require."

"For that you can accept responsibility," growled Mithrandir. "He will perish upon the child's birth, having donated every ounce of his own light to ensure the babe's soul will flourish. Legolas will not shirk his debt, even if it is not really one he ought to be made to bear."

Elrond cringed and dropped back into the seat, burying his head in his hands.

"A child?" breathed Elladan, clutching Elrohir's hand tight as his eyes filled with tears. "We have killed them both."

"Rach-en-Námo! (Námo's curse)" spat Erestor, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. "Whose child is it?"

"Mine."

The hard, scornful tones of this single word jolted them all and drew every eye to the bedroom door, for there stood Legolas dressed in raiment fitting to a prince among elf-kind, clothing Aragorn had found for him amid the storage rooms. He was more noble and magnificent than they had ever beheld him, despite his weary, shadowed eyes and emaciated form. His pack was on his back along with his quiver and in his hand was his bow. In dark disdain he surveyed them, favouring each elf with the full weight of his affronted dignity. Even when Elrond stood and came to him, hands outstretched, he held himself aloof, far beyond the reach of their arrogance and conceit, and folded his arms before his wounded heart.

"Legolas," said Elrond, his feet inching toward the rigid form. "Please, do not risk the new life within you. Stay and bolster your strength; indeed, there is no need for you to go at all. Here you are safe and your child will…"

"My child will be born in Greenwood and placed in the arms of my Naneth. Aye, my child is my concern, for the babe is mine alone, seeing you are less than eager to claim paternity."

"There is no certainty this issue is of my loins," objected Elrond, unconsciously recoiling from Legolas as if the very idea of mixing his seed with the inferior essence of sylvan moriquendi repulsed him, and this was so. "It could as easily be the progeny of one of my sons."

"Elrohir's, mine, or yours, what can it matter, Adar?" demanded Elladan, shocked that an innocent life would be put at risk to protect his father's pride. "You would condemn the child and Legolas just to shield the reputation of the House of Eärendil from scandal. It is unconscionable!" Then he turned to Legolas. "Do not go forth and risk the babe. Remain and I will make certain you are both treated with the dignity you deserve."

"Are you proposing to him?" demanded Elrohir, arising and advancing on his brother.

"One of us must," answered Elladan, "surely you can see it is the only way to atone for our wrongs."

"If you place a ring upon his hand, I will surely fade. Is your brother's life worth less to you than That Wood Elf's?" seethed Elrohir.

"Enough!" shouted Mithrandir. "This is Legolas' decision. What say you to Elladan's offer?"

"It is gallant and speaks of the true nature of his heart, which is noble," said Legolas, "but his soul is closed to me, save but a minute portion. I know that to separate Elladan from Elrohir would likely doom both brothers, and I have enough blood on my hands. I will go back to my forests and reside among the trees.

"At least in Greenwood my family will shelter me and do all they may to enhance Galbreth's development. At least there he will be loved and cherished. And since I must die to bring him back then I will face that doom among the people who feel something for me other than disgust and revilement, even shamed and disgraced as I am."

He moved toward the exit, Aragorn following and Mithrandir rising to accompany them, when the door flew open and Faelon raced in breathless and wild-eyed.

"Forgive me, Hîren," he said as he bowed to Elrond, "but there was not time for proper protocol. Scouts have ridden in haste from the ford. An army of sylvan archers stands ready to cross the Bruinen and King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm leads them."


TBC