Alagos Oraearon (Storm over the Ocean)

Part Five

In utter silence they stood, steadfast and motionless in ordered ranks, quieter than the trees beneath which they dwelled, the stillness more encompassing, more intense than the perilous pause for breath before a terrible battle bursts into being. In grim wonder they stared, clad in green and brown, arrows nocked but bowstrings slack, faces set in the expressionless masks of the trained warrior for whom no distraction is permitted. Across the wide and shallow ford, the archers of the Woodland Realm gazed at their counterparts, for Glorfindel's warriors barred entry to the Hidden Vale. Arrayed in shining armour, hands upon the hilts of their swords, the Noldorin soldiers appeared just as stalwart as the woodland warriors, yet in their wordless appraisal the sylvans' contempt drifted in the air, exhaled with every breath that left their lungs. For these sword-bearing Noldor would all be dead before so much as one of those bright mithril blades came within striking distance of any sylvan throat, though Glorfindel himself lead the charge, should their King but give the signal.

Yet the rumour of them was false and while these were a people vigilant and brave in the defence of their own, they were neither primitive nor violent, for here also was a people for whom it was anathema to spill elven blood. Great would the provocation need to be to incite them to pierce the body of any elf with their arrows. Even Noldor accused of kinslaying would have to be openly in attack upon them before the sylvan folk would raise their bows and fight their own. That was a fact they were unlikely to announce at such a time as this, however, and it suited them to play the part prejudice had assigned them and present the demeanour of menace and fierce wrath and all those traits of mysterious art for which they had become legendary. And this was the easier as their garb was dishevelled and blood-smeared, their faces streaked with grime and gore, for they had met resistance in Hithaeglir and there paused to cleanse the High Pass of Orcs, for a time.

In the forefront of the host was Thranduil, the last of the elven Kings of Beleriand and distantly linked to the people of Thingol. Beside him on his right hand stood his eldest grandson, Aras, and on his left was Galion, the famed advisor who had served him and his father before him with wisdom and compassion through all the turmoil and torment of the last Age and beyond. They were dressed for battle as were the warriors and even the King was besmirched with the residue of war and had about his arm a wrapping to stem the flow of blood from a sword wound. His countenance was as inscrutable as any of his people; his eyes cold as they stared across the dividing water at the captain of the Imladrian forces, wondering who this person was and whether he was someone he had fought alongside at Dagorlad all those centuries ago. This officer had come forth to meet him with courtesy and respect, bowing low ere he offered to serve as escort for the elven King into the land of Elrond Half-elven.

This gracious invitation Thranduil had declined, stating that he would not set foot in Imladris while his son was there held captive, for such was the rumour that had reached him and to remedy this unspeakable offence against the dignity of his House had he come over the mountains. Then he had suggested that word should be sent to bring Lord Elrond hither, or his son, or both, that he might judge the relevance of the news brought to him in the whisper of the wind, the rustling of leaf and limb, and the murmuring of brook and stream.

The serious captain had grown decidedly pale and yet had bowed as he retreated and complied with this demand, sending away three of his scouts to gather reinforcements, which had arrived with an ordered rapidity that Thranduil could not help but admire, and to warn their Lord of the pending disaster. Now the two armies stared each other down in tense anticipation, the broad, shallow flood of Bruinen dividing them, but it was Thranduil's will that kept them yet at peace.

At last a clear high note as of a lark at dawn rang through the air and all the Wood Elves shifted in subtle harmony, turning toward the sound, eyes gleaming with hopeful joy, and Thranduil's emerald gaze swept the expanse of the horizon impatiently even as he gave an answering call into the fading day. Then a horse in full gallop crested the low hill and thundered down the flood plain, white mane and tale streaming in the wind of his passing, and upon his back rode Legolas, smiling with such radiance that it was infectious, and a great cheer rose up among the sylvan warriors. 'Eglerio Tawar' they cried and 'Harthad mín addeli na Gladgalen' while some said in simple relief 'Mae govannen, Ernil Neth'.

All this amazed the soldiers of Imladris, especially that last greeting, and they murmured in dread and shifted about in anxious agitation, turning to watch the approach of their Lords' debased catamite. They parted before the racing horse, recognising the steed as none other than Asfoloth, Glorfindel's own charger.

Into the shining ripples of the river the gallant horse's hooves plunged, sending up bright jets and sprays of liquid in the glimmering rays of the sun wherein here and there rainbows danced for a second before the water returned to its proper bed. But ere long Legolas leaped from Asfoloth and with a jubilant cry raced on foot to his father, who was already in the stream, and the two met in the centre of the flood, Thranduil catching the slender form that leaped into his arms and clutching him close, laughing and crying at the same time, lifting his son from the ground entirely, for the Elven King was tall after the manner of the Sindarin elves in the Time before Time. He could only repeat his son's name, soul raised in exultant gratitude to have him back alive and whole if not entirely well and strong, while Legolas could only weep, saying over and over in his Adar's ear: 'Tellich, tellich' (You came, you came). For he had not been sure, in the haze and fog caused by the herbs Elrond fed him, if the desperate call for aid had been understood by the trees and the wind and the water to which he had imparted his plight.

Then they parted but only enough for Legolas to walk beside his father, their arms linked at the elbows as though they were friends and comrades as much as father and son, which was so, and the warriors cheered loudly and parted to allow them within the ranks. There Legolas found all those who yet remained of his own company, those who had remained in Greenwood rather than join the failed mission that had ended in tragedy and death. There many hands reached to touch him in friendship and goodwill and many voices welcomed him back, and not one of them cared that he had been accounted of less value than a hunting hound in the land where he'd sheltered.

Into Galion's care Thranduil passed his son, seeing that Legolas had suffered and reading in the youth's eyes the desire to get out of the clothing his captors had gifted him and wear the colours of his homeland. Also it was clear to every eye that the lesser prince was malnourished, and there was ample provision which he would find palatable and several elves joined the two, offering what small delicacies they had stored in their packs, things of Greenwood that Legolas would relish. So Thranduil returned to the banks of the river in time to behold the approach of Elrond and his kinsman, Erestor, the twin sons born to him by his half-Sindarin bride, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, Mithrandir the disciple of Manwë, and a Man of humble mien but noble bearing, all on horseback and dressed in regal garb, save the wizard. Thranduil did not meet them in the stream, but when they had all reached the mid-point he called out.

"Suilad, Elrond o Imladris, ananta úbedon 'mae govannen' an sen arad gâr glass ar maur an nin ar le," he said and he did not bow nor even dip his head in deference to the Lord of the lands to which he had travelled. (Greetings, Elrond of Imladris, and yet I will not say 'well met' for this day holds both joy and gloom for me and thee.) "Man agorech na ionen?" (What have you done to my son?)

Then Elrond halted his horse and dismounted and all the others followed his lead. When he had taken two more steps toward the western shore of Bruinen, he knelt in the water and lowered his forehead almost to touch the icy flow. His two sons came beside him and did likewise and after a second of contemplation even Erestor assumed this humble pose. At last Elrond answered the Elven King's question.

"King Thranduil, Lord of Greenwood the Great and Adar of Legolas, evil has been done unto your younger son in my lands, though it was not my will that wrought it. I beg pardon on behalf of my people, for my culpability is by association theirs, and plead that the resolution of thy just grievance afflicts only myself. Spare my sons and my kinsman and exact what penalty you deem fit, for I am ready to atone for the wrongs Legolas has endured under asylum in my realm."

These were proper words and yet to a father's ears they seemed paltry indeed and answered nothing. Thranduil glared at the bowed head, angry that the Noldorin Lord would not look upon his face.

"Asylum did you say? That is a generous term for bondage and torment. Not of your will was this evil done, you claim? Yet who rules these lands and orders its activities, if not you? Spare your sons and your kinsman? Why, in this you have indicted them alongside yourself, for until now I did not know the extent of the atrocities to which Legolas was subjected. How can such degradation be excused? I say it is an unforgivable offence you have done unto Legolas."

Then Mithrandir came forward and raised his hand to Thranduil in greeting and restraint, for he could see the ire kindling in the King's eyes.

"King Thranduil, your anger is just and none would dispute the right of a father to demand redress for crimes visited upon his child. Yet I do assert that not all the wrongs done to him were the fault of the Lord of Imladris and his kin. They were influenced by a vile and virulent magic, the source of which is that Dark Lord which we do not name. Have pity and show mercy, therefore, upon folk who were used to achieve the very breach occurring now, and in granting your pardon shatter the design of that degenerate demon."

In tense anticipation the soldiers of both sides waited while the Elven King weighed this plea, assessing the wizard with keen bright eyes and looking to the Noldorin Lord and his sons and kinsman, still kowtowed in the swirling stream. Then he turned and met the haggard eyes of his disgraced son and between them passed a powerful communication that made Thranduil draw breath sharply, and he went at once to Legolas and again enfolded him in a close embrace while the two conversed in confidence that none others could overhear. When they broke apart again, the King returned in fury to the banks of the Bruinen and waded in and with powerful strides reached the bowed figure of the Elven Lord even before Mithrandir could get between them.

"Erio a tiro nin, hû thaur, tiro nin vi hîn a pedo peth thenin. Gwedhitha le na ion edwen, Legolas o Gladgalen, egor gweriatha le estel tîn?" (Stand and face me, abhorrent dog, and speak truth. Will you bind yourself to my second son, Legolas of Greenwood, whom you have got with child, or betray his trust?)

Slowly Elrond stood, robes dripping and heavy, closing about his knees like a cloying shroud of death, and lifted his eyes to Thranduil. In the grey depths was a mixture of outrage over this insult, spoken aloud before all his troops and his sons and his renowned general, and sorrowful remorse, for he could not imagine life without Legolas and his heart ached at the loss already. Yet before his warring emotions could come to terms, his second son broke the silence and answered for all.

"That is not meet, to name my father, a noble Lord of ancient lineage sprung from the Three Kindred: Maiar, Eldar, and Edain, a dog and in the next breath demand a marriage to this woodland prince of the trees." Saying this, he stood and met his father's astonished eyes even as a low and menacing growl sounded from the Sindarin Lord.

"Nay!" shouted Elladan, leaping to his feet and grabbing at his brother's arms to shake him. "You seal Legolas' death and that of a child, mayhap your own seed and most surely your own flesh and blood! Let Adar answer!"

A harsh gasp arose among the sylvan warriors, for only now did they understand: their prince had been used by all three of the Noldorin Lords and one had bred him. Even then, not one had seen fit to make the bond permanent. Their eyes fell upon Erestor still on his knees in the water and they wondered if a fourth male had taken advantage of Legolas' severe need. This was indeed a sordid affair and low and discontented were the murmurs sweeping the ranks.

"Neither need perish; send Legolas over sea, as our Naneth was forced to go," answered Elrohir coldly, for he would not put aside his pride and regretted even the apology he had affirmed by kneeling beside his father and brother. "Let the child be born and fostered there since the Valar alone know which of us fathered it."

"The answer is given," railed Aras, pointing in fury and disgust to Elrond. "See, the Lord of Imladris does not dispute his son's remarks nor silence the tongue that calls my uncle unfit to mingle with Noldorin bloodlines. Shall these fiends return unpunished to their lofty halls?" So saying he bent his bow and trained in upon the Elven Lord.

But Thranduil ordered him to stand down at once and with his own hand took the bow from Aras' hands, seeing no good would come of starting a bloody war.

"Nay, we will not meet this difficulty on the level the Noldorin Lords have set but stand above it. Justice we shall have, but I cannot force any against his own will to accept Legolas as wedded mate," Thranduil decreed.

Then again he looked to Legolas and found that his son was locked in silent and sorrowful converse with the mighty Elven Lord, and the pain and anguish on his younger child's face told all: Legolas had given over his heart to the ancient Elf and only Elrond's pledge might spare him. Thranduil went to him and wrapped a protective arm about the slumping shoulders, shielding from the Noldorin people the sight of the tears that had begin to fall from the downcast blue eyes. Indeed, his own vision was blurred with equal sorrow, for he saw that he had reclaimed his child only to lose him in the passing of a year. No more did Thranduil speak and he turned not again to the Lord of Imladris, but instead led his son away among the trees beside the road.

Now Mithrandir and Aragorn were saddened and grim, Glorfindel was appalled and could scarcely hold his tongue, while Erestor gaped at his cousin in disbelief. But Elladan ran across the stream, calling for Legolas, and the sylvan warriors parted and let him come, though Aras soon barred his path.

"What do you want here, Nodlorin prince?" he demanded.

"I will be Legolas' mate," he offered, "if he would have me. I cannot allow your uncle to perish nor risk the unborn child because of the wrongs done here by me and my folk."

"Come back across the river, Elladan," shouted Elrohir. "Come back across now or come back never!" His voice was shrill and his eyes were inflamed with the pain over this betrayal, as he deemed it.

"Be silent!" commanded Mithrandir and a quick motion of his fingers sent a surge of power to make it so. "Elrond, will you let your eldest son do this thing when he is not the one Legolas requires?"

"Elladan is of age to make such decisions on his own," answered Elrond sadly, for his heart bade him go and his pride refused to permit it, and this option was a fitting recourse.

He believed Elladan's sacrifice would serve to appease the heated wrath of the Woodland King and smother the enmity this unfortunate situation generated between the already estranged realms. Legolas would live, his child be born strong and well, and the line of Eärendil spared the taint of kinslaying. This he truly thought. Elrond offered his hand to Erestor, still kneeling in the frigid water, and helped him rise, treading back with him to the eastern side of the Bruinen.

In silent disapproval Glorfindel watched them pass. Then he traded glances with Mithrandir and the Dûnadan, but upon Elrohir he had no desire to look, for he was bitterly disappointed in the Lord's younger son and wondered if the magic of the Dark Lord still ran in his veins. Then the Balrog-slayer ordered his troops to return to their stations and followed them, but Asfaloth he commanded to remain among the Wood Elves in order to bear Legolas home in comfort and without strain. Ere he was gone from sight, he raised his voice in salute to the noble gesture of Elladan, saying:

"Namarië Elladan o Imladris, Hîl o Gil-galad, Dior, Thingol, ar Fingon, i erui alawartha haew fael ar brand o Noss în. Namarië, linnatha nin o carth lín vi Thamas Naur." (Farewell Elladan of Imladris, heir of Gil-Galad, Dior, Thingol, and Fingon, who alone abandons not the just and noble habits of his House. Farewell, we will sing of your deed in the Hall of Fire.)

All the soldiers under his command repeated the good-bye, eager to let their eldest prince know he would not be forgotten and his leaving would be mourned.

Mithrandir followed after Elrond, hoping to reason with the noble Lord, while Aragorn crossed the river to the western bank and when the Wood Elves departed in the night, he journeyed with them, so to ensure the health of Legolas would not be compromised during the harrowing ascent of the High Pass. Alone, Elrohir stood in the rippling water of the ford, unable to believe Elladan had left him. When darkness covered the land and all the woodland warriors had departed, then he turned his face to the west in defiance and rode from the valley toward Mithlond.

Thus did King Thranduil reclaim his lost son and carry him back to the forbidding shadows beneath the forest of Greenwood.


TBC