The Warrior and the Poet(Extended Edition)

Part Four: Changes

As I sat in a sun-lit clearing, even numb with shock I could feel Legolas and other elves nearby. I didn’t care, however, why they were there, all I could fathom was my grief.

A rich laugh like a baritone wind-chime split my self-imposed silence several days later. "Valar help me, child, you are so much like your sire."

Why was he here? What possible reason could he have for wanting to speak to me? Hadn’t he heard of my loss? I wanted him to just go away. I wanted everyone to go away. I just wanted to be left alone to grieve in private.

Angrily, I turned to meet the crystal gaze of Lord Celeborn. "What do you want?"

"Yes, I see Elrond in you, little one."

My eyebrows shot into my hairline. Why would he say that? I was most decidedly human, last time I checked anyway. How could he even think I was even remotely like the venerable Peredhil? I was hot-headed, stubborn, and most of all homely, very unelf-like.

"Think you that Lord Elrond has not a formidable temper, youngling, or is not just as stubborn? Think you that he did not grieve his wife and child that were lost to him after the attack?"

"Elves are supposed to be serene, beautiful, ethereal creatures!" I sputtered in confusion. "Ilúvatar’s first born! Elves are supposed to be akin to angels! Pure spirits. Wait . . . .what child?"

"Angels?!" he replied, raising an eyebrow at me, an incredulous smile on his timeless face yet skillfully avoiding my question. "Oh my dear child, you are in for quite a shock if you believe that nonsense. Elrond is anything but an angel. And I am certain that your companion has given you little evidence of that as well." He made a face. "Pure, indeed! What are they teaching these children now?"

This was a very different view of Tolkien’s elves, and from their own mouths too, but I still could not understand how they could say that I reminded him of Lord Elrond. For one thing I was blonde, and to my knowledge, he was dark, but that meant little. Both my parents were dark as well and I ended up blonde. Elves were tall and beautiful; I was neither.

"Ai, no!" Galadriel laughed, gliding up beside her husband. "Especially not if he sired those twins. It still astounds me that Imladris remains intact after the pranks those two pull. But, child," she said, her silvery voice taking on a more serious tone, "do you not think that Prince Legolas would . . . "

"Master Legolas would be better served to continue on with the others than to tag after the Lórien guards searching for a dead child," I muttered, clutching the blood-stained blanket to me as though I feared they would try to take it from me.

Celeborn sighed and shook his head.

"There is another matter we wish to discuss with you, little one." Galadriel’s gentle voice broke through my musings. Startled, I looked up at her.

I blinked, not understanding.

"We can see tension growing among certain members of the Fellowship due to your arrival," she said with a smile, "though it is no fault of your own."

"Really," I snarled sarcastically. "I can’t imagine."

Celeborn chuckled softly. "Can you not imagine what dissension your presence has caused? I did not think you that naïve, little one."

I shot him a withering glare. I had already seen far too much evidence that my very presence was endangering the fellowship. I shouldn't be here. With every hour my presence changed the story, altered alliances, fragmented bonds of brotherhood. How could I have been so foolish? But what else could I do? Where could I go? I was frightened. All I knew was that I had to leave.

Overpowered by a sudden feeling of hopelessness, I hid my face in my hands, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Quick as lightning, I felt myself drawn into Celeborn’s strong embrace and held tightly against him. I struggled, anger and panic warring with the need for someone to understand, the need to be held. In the end my need won out when he did not let go. I melted against his broad chest, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply to keep the tears from falling - much as I wanted to relinquish this burden.

"I need you to trust us, little one," he murmured, pressing his lips to my forehead.

I shifted in his arms but did not pull away. For some insane reason I felt safe here, protected from pain, but could I trust these feelings?

"I can’t . . ." I whispered, choking back the tears that brimmed against my eyelids, "I am tired of pain."

"I know, little one."

"Please . . ."

"Look at me, little one."

His hold on me loosened, allowing me to step away from him, but I found I could not look at him. I felt ashamed for showing such weakness and did not want to see the disapproval burning in his eyes.

"Look at me," he urged again. His strong hand cupped my chin and lifted my head. With the thumb of his free hand he wiped away the threatening tears. "Child, who has done this to you. Who has made you believe that tears are weak?"

I smiled weakly, trying to look anywhere else but at him, trying, too, to resist the urge to fling myself into his embrace and let the tears come. I could not let myself succumb to that weakness.

"I am being silly," I said lightly.

Celeborn glanced at his mate, concern plainly visible on his face.

Whispers penetrated my thoughts, like I was eavesdropping on a private conversation. Confused I looked around but found no one save the Lord and Lady and myself. However the distant expressions on their faces gave me reason to believe that they were speaking mind to mind. Was that possible? I had done so with Legolas but that could have easily been a fluke. As the whispers continued, I came to believe that not only was it possible but I was hearing the edge of their conversation. I could hear the tone of their voices only and that of a third that seemed like it was coming from a great distance.

:Hên-nîn,: whispered a voice in my head, a voice that could not have come from Lord Celeborn or his Lady, but was tinged with sadness and unspeakable joy. While those were the only words the voice spoke to me I wanted to reach out to it as though it were a tangible being. I wanted that voice to hold me, hide me, soothe away my fears. Not as a lover, it was not that kind of voice. No, I had the sense of a loving father holding me, protecting me. A father who did not ridicule the simplest mistake but patiently taught through the error. A father whose arms were always open.

"Child?" Celeborn’s voice pulled me back from the comfort the new voice offered. "Do you fear that we would think you weak for your tears?"

"What tears?" I asked trying to hide the longing I felt.

"The tears you have only shed when you were alone," Galadriel said, gliding over the stand next to me where I stood in her husband’s embrace.

I stared at her in shock. How could this beautiful creature know these things? I wanted to run.

:Iel-nîn,: the voice breathed, calming my fear, steadying me in the middle of the maelstrom of emotions that assaulted me. I wanted to respond to the voice

"Do you fear that any comfort given will have a price?" Celeborn asked, concern lacing his words.

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "No," I squeaked.

"Then why do you deliberately put up barriers, little one? Do you not realize that you are causing more damage by doing so?"

I sighed and looked away. How could I make them understand that I could not ask for their comfort however much I wanted it? Life had taught me that trust eventually led to betrayal and hurt. I couldn’t handle any more. If I got hurt again, I didn’t trust myself not to give in to ‘whatever means necessary’.

"Why does it matter so much to you that I put up walls to keep out the pain?" I asked coldly as the mask of indifference fell into place as it had so many times in the past.

"Legolas has had few lovers in his long life, little one. He, too, has been hurt before." She held my gaze with her calm, piercing eyes. "But you both have been set a path…"

"There are many things that bar any path to him, my lady. The least of which is the small fact that I am already married."

"Aye, hên-nin, in that world, that time, you are. Here that may not prove true."

I thought about this. I had no desire to hurt him, ever. But what lay ahead for us or myself, I just didn’t know. What if I could go back? I had to try for the sake of my children. I had to, because it was right, because my honour was more important than a stolen season I would worry about all the "what if’s" only if I could not return to where I belonged.

"You have many unanswered questions, Palandiriel. You will find your answers on your journey."

"I’m going with them?" My eyebrows sprang into my hairline.

For some reason, I thought I would be left here under the sheltering boughs of the Mallorn trees. I was, after all, a woman and I would only be in the way. I wasn’t a warrior or a long-distance runner. I did not want Legolas to feel like he had to protect me all the time or feel like they had to slow their pace for me to be able to keep up. It was far too important.

"Yes. Aragorn and Legolas have already been told." She paused as if she were measuring my heart. "May you find that which you seek, whether it be here or in your world."

"I don’t know what to say, Lady." I said, stunned.

"All is ready, my lady," came Legolas’ soft voice behind me. Startled by his sudden appearance, I jumped. He chuckled, "May I steal your charge?"

Galadriel looked at me, her eyes like soft blue starlight as she gently touched the small moonstone pendant that hung at my throat. "The Valar guard you, child. Have faith in yourself. You are stronger and wiser than you know. And worry not about the son of Denethor, Ithilin. There is as much for him to learn on this journey, as there is for you."


* * *


Silently the three boats glided through the silvery water in the quiet of the morning mist. Shafts of sunlight broke through the clouds, lending an ethereal quality to Lórien’s sheltering arms.

The Lady stood on the bank as we pulled away, her hand upraised in farewell. A tear streaked down my cheek. Why did it feel like I was leaving the only home I had ever known? I snuggled back against Legolas as he deftly maneuvered our craft along the swift river, searching desperately for comfort.

"Non sí, meleth. Iston," he whispered as he kissed the crown of my head.

"I have looked my last on that which is fairest." Gimli the Dwarf said sadly, yet his voice was full of wonder and awe.

"What was her gift to you?" Legolas asked him.

"I asked her for one hair from her golden head," he paused and glanced back at us. "She gave me three."

Legolas smiled fondly at the dwarf. Gimli had become an unexpected ally against Boromir’s advances. He often harumphed loudly, like an overprotective father, if Boromir acted in any way unbecoming of an honorable warrior. The subtle reminder kept him chivalrous and courteous.

"What were you given, Legolas?" I asked, although I knew the answer.

"A bow of the Galadrim, Ithilin. While it is stouter than the one I made in my youth, I have been told it’s accuracy is second to none."

"I think the accuracy depends on the archer, if you ask me, meleth-nîn." I looked up at my elven companion, squinting in the light that shone blindingly through his blond hair.

Both of my companions laughed.

"And I know of no other archer who is more deadly with a bow in his hands."

"Hannon le, meleth," he chuckled as he kissed the top of my head.


* * *


"My lady," Boromir said sitting down next to me as I helped Sam prepare the evening meal.

"How many times do I have to tell you no, Boromir?" I growled, letting my irritation show.

"Do you not think that you would be better suited to your own kind? He is an elf and immortal."

I sighed in exasperation. "Look, I’ll spell this out for you. It’s not about him being better than you in any way. I am not free to make a choice. I am a married woman. I have three. . . " I faltered, trying to swallow my grief, " I have three children. More to the point, Legolas makes me feel safe. And, while under normal circumstances, you are probably an honorable man, I just don’t feel safe around you."

"Why would you not feel safe with me? Besides, you speak of not being free, yet you have let that elf have his way with you."

"WHAT?! I most certainly have not! How can you have forgotten so quickly?" I cried, nearly loosing my temper. "I seem to recall that I am no more than a bit of skirt to you, you arrogant pig.

"I thought we were past all that."

"You seem to forget that I don’t want any more to do with you than I absolutely have to. Now, go away!"

He grabbed my arm and Backed me up against a tree. "I am just a honourable as that fey wench’s git!"

"Are you, Boromir? I want to believe that you really are as honorable as you say. That these thoughts and actions are not your own." I freed my wrist and looked up into his dark blue eyes. What I saw there startled me. Fear, pain, self loathing, and guilt. I sighed, at war with myself on how I should deal with him. "Boromir, I don’t hate you."

"One kiss."

"No!"

"But -"

"No, Boromir!"

"Ithilin, are you all right?" Legolas asked from his perch on the rocks above, sounding slightly on edge at my tone of voice

"Here, Sam. These are ready," I said handing the chopped herbs to the hobbit. "Yes."

Boromir glanced up at the elf, receiving a hard stare from him as he reached out and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. Uncertain, I flinched away from his touch. I did not want to give him any encouragement.

"Stop!" I protested sharply as I scooted away from him.

"Let her be, Boromir," Legolas growled stepping between us.

"Are you all right, Miss Ithilin?" Sam asked, concerned.

I nodded, noticing that the Hobbit’s small hand was wrapped tightly around the hilt of the knife he had been using.

"I’m fine, Sam," I reassured him.

This continued at every stop we made during our nine day journey toward the Rauros. It was irritating. I had never had men "fight" over me before. Now, I’ll be the first to tell anyone that I am not beautiful. I could only imagine the kind of women that Boromir saw daily in Minas Tirith, if history books were to be any guide. Most women of the Middle Ages were sold into marriage while they still had the beauty of youth, between the ages of twelve and fourteen, to men often times three times their age. So I suppose that men would find me a rare beauty, considering I was thirty.

I knew Legolas continued to worry about me and his growing wariness of Boromir’s advances. I tried to reassure him, as we lay side by side at night, that as long as he was there I was safe. However even this small reassurance seemed to make him more on edge.

"Legolas," I whispered one night several days later. "Legolas, I know you’re not asleep." I said, laying my hand on his chest. His eyes, while open, were not dark glassy pools of sapphire as they usually were when he slept.

A slight smile crossed his face. "How do you know when I am asleep?"

"What’s wrong?"

He sighed heavily, his eyes closing. "You and Boromir are getting along better. You even teased him over supper."

"So."

"Can you not see as I do, Ithilin.."

I straddled his waist and leaned over him, my long blond hair falling over my shoulders and into his face.

"Aye, Legolas, I do. He has made it plain enough, but I must make an effort to get along for the sake of the Fellowship." I said softly.

I traced his dark eyebrows with my index finger, trailing it down his porcelain cheek and back to caress the tip of his pointed ear. He let out a stifled gasp of what sounded like pleasure and he shuddered beneath me. His eyes widened into deep, dark, starlit, pools. His hands slid up my thighs to my hips, until he realized what he was doing and he quickly stopped.

"I want this, Ithilin. I want to give my heart to you."

I smiled tenderly at him. "My heart still exists in that world, Legolas. And while it does, I beg you not to ask me to choose."

"Then you will sleep alone until you can," he said coldly, as he lifted me off of him, rose and walked away.
I sat there, stunned. I had spoken truth and he turned on me. I was confused. What could I have said? That I wanted him? While true, he knew that I could not. How could either of us be satisfied with each other if unanswered questions loomed between us?

I scanned the area, finally spotting him near the water’s edge. I stood and went to him. He sat on the sandy bank, hugging his legs to his chest his head resting against knees. I laid my hand on his shoulder, silently willing him to look at me.

"I’m sorry, Legolas," I murmured painfully, squatting down beside him. "What do you want me to say? How can I be honest without hurting you?"

"Forgive me orë-nîn," he sighed wearily. "I wish things could be different. I wish that you were free. How can I expect you to betray the honour we both hold so dear? You have kept your honour even as I act like an untried elfling with his first courtesan. I do not yet understand these feelings that have gripped my feä."
The look in his eyes of profound confusion made me reach out to him.

"I know what it is to want something so badly that it hurts. I know that you want this to be. But while my heart lingers upon these vows and not knowing whether or not it is even possible for me to return, I can not give any more than I am now. Yet know that I share these strange urgings of my soul."

He nodded, "I know, meleth-nîn. Forgive me if I have hurt you."

"Come to bed, Legolas. You are weary from rowing all day and your watch is in a few hours." I rose and offered him my hand.

He took it and stood with the boneless grace of a dancer. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the back of his fingers brushing my cheek. Bending down, his slender lips sought mine hesitantly. I reached up and touched his face, putting gentle but firm pressure on his cheek in silent encouragement. He stepped closer, wrapping one arm about my shoulders while the hand of the other slid back and cradled my head. My hands slipped down his chest, curling around to rest on his back. I felt his mouth leave mine and trail down my neck to the hollow of my throat. My hands clenched on his back and my breath caught in my throat.

"This is as far as you can go, meleth-nîn" I gasped, as his tongue traced the line of my jaw.

"I know." He replied, sweeping me up into his arms, his mouth searching for mine again, this time hungrily.
How he found our bedrolls without tripping over someone, I’ll never know but I soon found myself being lowered gently to the ground. I felt him straddle my waist. He was being very careful to keep his hands from wandering below my shoulders. Every inch of me wanted him to go farther, to touch me and make me come alive. Yet even as I fought down that desire, my mutinous body arched into him, begging unrelentingly for his touch.

"Stop," I whimpered softly, tears streaming from my eyes. "Please."

He pulled away, looking slightly confused. When he saw my tears, he smiled and nodded as he gently wiped them away.

"Too far?"

I nodded. I ached for him, for his touch. Yet how could I make a decision that could potentially destroy both our lives. This elf had managed to destroy my apathy about love-making. The very fact that he could speak into my mind, led me joyously back to what I had long thought to be true. That love-making was not merely a bodily act. It joined body, mind, and soul in an endless dance. This was what I had been searching for, for so long yet I could not, in good conscience, follow down this path.

"I want this, Legolas." I sobbed. "I want you but I can’t. I’m afraid that it won’t last."

"Why would it not?" he asked as he stretched out beside me and gathered me into his embrace, smoothing my hair with his hand and kissing the top of my head.

"It didn’t . . ."

"I see." he held me tighter. "Oh, Ithilin, how badly have you been hurt that you think this first rush will end? What did he do to you to make you believe this?"

"He wasn’t abusive if that’s what you mean."

"Abuse can take many forms, meleth-nîn."

"It’s not like that," I sniffed. "He is a good man and a good father. I love him but I always feel like something is missing, something important. I didn’t know what it was until now."

"What is it that you found?"

"That it’s not just a physical act."

He laughed softly. "No. It is not. It is so very much more than that, Ithilin. That is why elves bind for life. And that is what I want to share with you."

"Can you wait until we know if it is possible for me to return to my own time?"

"If you want, I will wait forever."

"I hope it will not take that long."

"I will wait until you give me the answer to this question. Will you bind yourself to me for eternity?"

"’Til I know for certain, Legolas. Whenever that may be." I snuggled into his embrace and relaxed against him with a sense of peace that had not been present before.