This, And My Heart Beside *added ch. 20/part 1*

CHAPTER 5


In spite of the mounting storm, everyone in the group was in high spirits as they began the walk back to the palace. Legolas wouldn’t have dared to dream this day could turn out so well. Already the appalling memory of what had happened was fading like nightmares will, soon after the sleeper has awakened. To see his friend lying in a crumpled heap with cruelly broken bones was more than he could bear, and after Uriong had handed Isalith to the other Guards and they had gently set him on the ground, Legolas turned his face quickly into his father’s robes. He could abide no more. He heard rapid footsteps as King Tyrion and Queen Anylinde fled to their son’s side.

The Prince thought it could become no worse, when he soon learned that he was wrong. Shouts of “captain!” and “take care, mind his leg!” stirred his curiosity enough to make him look around. He regretted it immediately when he saw his hero, Captain Belorfilad, being laid down beside Isalith. Although his leg wasn’t broken, something about it looked *wrong*, and the pain in his eyes was manifest.

“No!” Legolas wailed, hiding his face again as tears began to fall. Naniel knelt beside him and wiped one side of his face with the hem of her dress, as Thranduil kissed away his tears on the other. Both murmured soothing words to him.

“Do not cry, elen nin,” the King comforted him. “I will call for the healers,” and he stood to do that, but Legolas heard nothing for a few seconds, until his father leaned down to whisper to him.

“Legolas,” he said softly, and the Prince heard a smile in his voice. “You will want to see this.”

The Elven Prince hesitated before looking at the face of his father, which was turned toward the scene several feet away, where Isalith and Belorfilad lay. Queen Anylide knelt behind her son, cradling his head in her lap, while King Tyrion knelt at his feet. At first, Legolas saw nothing unusual until a warm golden light hovering above Isalith’s ruined leg caught his eye. When he realized, finally, that the light emanated from Tyrion’s hands, Legolas’ eyes widened in wonder. The Ilandrian King slowly passed his hands over the leg of his son, his eyes closed in concentration as if he were feeling for something, searching out the breaks in Isalith’s leg. After several seconds of this, he halted and lowered both hands gently to the Prince’s knee. Isalith hadn’t yet regained consciousness, and he lay as still as death while Anylinde lovingly smoothed his raven hair away from his ashen face. As Legolas looked on, Tyrion lightly smoothed his hands over his son’s leg, moving from his knee toward his ankle.

The Mirkwood Prince heard his mother gasp at the same time that his mouth fell open. Isalith’s leg was straightening, the numerous shattered bones knitting together against all possibility, until it was whole once again, and Isalith sighed softly as his face returned to its healthy golden color.

Legolas spun around to gape at his mother and father in disbelief. An amused smile played across Thranduil’s lips. “There you have it, my son,” he said.

Legolas smiled and nodded, his eyes filled with awe. Suddenly remembering Belorfilad’s injury, he turned toward where he lay. Already King Tyrion had moved to kneel beside him as Uriong sat on his other side. Belorfilad gripped the hand of the Ilandrian Captain so tightly in his own, that his knuckles had turned white and his entire arm trembled. His pain must be unbearable, Legolas thought, but Uriong allowed the blonde warrior to squeeze his hand in what was surely a very painful vise-like grip, and did so without complaining.

“My dear Captain, I can never thank or repay you for the selfless act with which you saved Isalith,” Tyrion said gently. “Unfortunately, I cannot heal you in the same manner as my son. Your leg has been wrenched from its socket; it must be put back. We *can*, however, do something to ease your pain; we can do *that* much.”

He nodded to Uriong who moved closer to Belorfilad, and laid his free hand on the Mirkwood warrior’s shoulder. Leaning in toward him, Uriong began to speak in a soft, entrancing voice.

“I want you to look at me, my friend, at my eyes; and listen to what I say.” Belorfilad looked into the golden brown eyes that gazed into his unfalteringly, until he felt that he was swimming in them. He began to float in a tranquil lake that glittered like gems with the reflections of the sun’s rays, and the searing pain in his leg slipped away from him on the gently rolling waves of the water. He knew Uriong was speaking to him, he heard the soft lilting baritone of his voice, but his words were lost to Belorfilad. When the tightness around his eyes and mouth brought on by the agony in his leg smoothed out, and his body finally released its tension, Uriong looked at his King.

“He is ready, my Lord,” he said quietly. Tyrion nodded and moved closer to Belorfilad’s dislodged leg. Placing one hand firmly against the hip joint, he slid the other hand under the Captain’s knee and raised the leg slightly, cradling it in the crook of his arm. Satisfied that his grip was secure, the King pushed hard against the leg joint, simultaneously pulling up on the leg with a sharp yank. Every Elf on the cliff top flinched at the nauseating sound as the leg slipped back into its rightful place; every Elf except King Tyrion, Uriong, and Belorfilad, who still gazed into the distance, focused on a place that only he could see.

The Captain of the Ilandros Guard leaned close to him again, murmuring soothingly. After several seconds, Belorfilad’s eyes cleared and he blinked.

“It is done, my friend,” Uriong said. “Your leg is again as it should be. There will be no more pain.”

To Legolas’ delight, Captain Belorfilad had smiled then and expressed his gratitude to King Tyrion and Uriong, before experimentally flexing and straightening his leg. Prince Isalith, who was then awake and walking, had come to him as he leapt lightly to his feet, and beckoned for him to lean down. When he did, the Prince had placed a medallion, on a silken cord, around his neck and hugged him fiercely. Surprised yet pleased, the Captain gently patted Isalith’s back. Many thanks and embraces were exchanged among the group before ominous rumblings from the sky sent them quickly back to the palace.


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The storm had graciously withheld its fury until everyone was again within the palace walls. They stood in groups now, citizens of Mirkwood and Ilandros, talking and laughing together as a feeling of relief and well-being enveloped them all.

The chief topic of conversation, of course, was the miraculous healing of Prince Isalith and Captain Belorfilad, performed by the eastern King. As Legolas and Isalith stood with their parents, they spoke in hushed tones.

“We have healers, but they use herbs and salves to do their work,” the Prince of Mirkwood whispered excitedly. “Your father can heal with a *touch*! And Uriong, he took away Belorfilad’s suffering with *words*!”

Isalith smiled shyly. “*You* can do it too, Legolas. All of you. It is part of what makes us Elven, what sets us apart from the other races.”

Legolas didn’t wish to contradict his friend, but he was highly skeptical. “I do not think so, Isalith,” he said gently.

“But you *can*, Legolas,” he insisted. “Adar says that the other Elven clans have merely *forgotten* the magic, and that they can all reclaim it, if they truly wish to. We are both too young to possess it yet, but soon I will begin to learn, and then I will teach *you*.”

“All right, Isalith,” Legolas agreed, although it was beyond his ability to believe it. He started to say more, but stopped at the sound of his father’s rich voice carrying throughout the great hall where they all stood.

“I have an announcement,” Thranduil began. “Tomorrow evening we hold the celebration of my son’s begetting day, and Queen Naniel and I wish all of you to join us in commemorating the most blessed day of our lives.” He smiled down at Legolas, who colored with embarrassment, and cast his eyes to the floor.

The members of the group murmured their excitement for a moment before the King raised his hand. The room again grew quiet.

“To that celebration we wish to add, at the request of King Tyrion and Queen Anylinde, the honoring of the brave Guards who aided in the rescue effort of Prince Isalith. Please join us, my friends. We all have much to celebrate.”

Everyone cheered and shouted their assurances that they would be there. As the various conversations resumed, Legolas turned to his friend.

“Isalith,” he asked, “why did you climb down the cliff, after I warned you of the danger?”

The eastern Prince looked at him, surprised that he needed to ask. “The ollo berries are your favorite, and I wanted to gift you on your begetting day with something that no one else would offer.”

Legolas laid his hands on Isalith’s shoulders and said seriously, “They would be forever ruined for me, if you had paid for them with your life. Promise me you will never again do such a thing. Please Isalith,” he added urgently. “I need to hear your oath on it.”

The Ilandros Prince regarded him gravely for a moment. He never again wanted to cause his friend such worry. “All right, nilde,” he agreed. “You have my word.”

Legolas smiled, relieved, and affectionately squeezed his shoulders.

“Legolas,” Isalith said inquisitively, “how did you know where to look for me?”

The Prince of Mirkwood thought for a moment, and his eyes grew wide with recollection. “I had almost forgotten! A horse, Isalith! I ran into the forest, but after that I knew not where to go. A black stallion came to me then, taller than any I have ever seen, and he told me to follow him. I knew he could lead me to you, so I followed. But, when I ran for help, he was gone.”

“He was *here*?” Isalith asked in amazement.

“Is he yours?” Legolas replied.

“No, he does not belong to me, but when I am in danger, he comes. Legolas,” Isalith added as a mischievous light shone in his eyes, “how could a horse tell you to follow him, and how could you be so certain that he knew where to find me?”

At a loss for an immediate answer, the blonde Elf Prince thought desperately for a moment. Finally, he looked at his friend and shook his head in surrender. “I do not know,” he said quietly.

“*I* do,” Isalith said. “’Tis because you have not entirely lost the magic, Legolas. A glimmer of it still lives in you; a part of the true Elven nature remains in your soul. Or you would never have even *seen* Hithrawyn in the forest. It will be easier than I thought to teach you.”

A radiant smile then spread across his beautiful young face, a smile of delight and confidence, and Legolas began to allow himself to believe his words.


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elen nin: my star

nilde: friend