The Price of Pride
folder
-Multi-Age › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
61
Views:
1,899
Reviews:
53
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
61
Views:
1,899
Reviews:
53
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 56
Elvish translations
Melin chen – I love you
Caun nín – my prince
Ion nín – my son
Mae govannen – well met
Naneth – mother
Peredhil – half-Elves
Tamip’olad – stay
Tolo – come
Chapter 56
The days of my trip home were bearable. Having to guide my horse and watch for Orc sign forced my mind away from my self-pity for a time, but the nights were awful. Even with the link to my father vibrant in my mind, I would catch myself reaching for my knife at least once a night, thinking that nothing could be worth bearing this torture. Each time, my father would fight my demons for me, his touch in my mind restraining my hand. He never seemed to grow tired or frustrated with me, though I grew frustrated with myself, with my own weakness. Did I really care so little for life that I was willing to throw it all away? During the day, surrounded by light and the beauty of Arda, I could say no, but at night, with only Ithil’s rays to keep me company and the weight of the darkness pressing in around me, I lost that assurance. I was halfway home when a voice hailed me from the woods. “Mae govannen, caun nín.”
I jerked my horse to a halt, head whipping around, searching for the source of the voice. Saelbeth dropped down from his perch in a tree. “King Thranduil said we would meet you today. Tolo, your father wants to see you. His tent is just over the next rise.”
I followed Saelbeth mutely over the next hill. As he had said, my father’s traveling tent was set up in a clearing, and my father stood at the open flaps, waiting for me. I wanted to throw myself from my horse into his arms, seeking comfort as I had not done since I was an Elfling, but I forced myself to dismount calmly and to salute my father, hand to my chest, warrior to King. He inclined his head, accepting my salute as his due. Then, he gestured for me to enter his tent. I could hear his voice muffled by the tent walls, dismissing his guards, instructing them to form a perimeter beyond the range of Elven hearing.
He waited outside until his escort was arranged to his satisfaction, then he joined me inside. I had remained standing, unsure of what he would say to me. In fact, he said nothing, just opened his arms to me, folding me against him tightly when I moved into his embrace.
“Melin chen, ion nín,” he murmured against my hair. I clung to him as if my very life depended on it, and perhaps it did, letting out all my grief and anger. The words I spoke were not coherent as they poured from me, but the words did not matter. I could feel the bond between us so strongly that I could all but see it, and through it, my father felt what I was feeling and understood what I could not say. He did not try to reason with me or to explain away my sadness and sense of betrayal. Nor did he question my actions as the twins had always done. He just accepted what I was feeling, letting it wash through him and out of me. It was the lancing of a boil that had festered for too long, a drawn-out, painful cleansing that left me trembling in its aftermath.
My father kept me pulled snugly against him as he sank to the floor. I curled against him, my head resting in his lap, his hand gently stroking my hair and back. As he held me, memories of my childhood flickered through my mind, of my father comforting me just this way when no other comfort would do. Once more, millennia later, no other comfort would do, and my father gave me what I needed, as he had always done.
When the emotional storm had passed and I was relatively calm again, I sat up and looked at my father. “How am I to live like this, Ada?” I asked plaintively. “I cannot even make it through the night alone. You cannot support me like this forever.”
“Do not underestimate me, ion nín. I will support you as long as you need, but you do not want to live that way, I know. It will take time, but your grief will lessen, and you will learn to find your strength in other ways.”
“What other ways, Ada? I thought that an Elf who was fading could only be saved by a bond or by leaving for Valinor.”
“Is that you want, Legolas? To bind yourself to someone you do not love in order to stay alive? You would be alive, that is true, but it would only be half a life. If you bind yourself that way, the one with whom you share a bond would never be able to be with another. Nor would you, for your emotions would carry through the link and you would destroy each other,” my father said, almost harshly.
“I do not want that,” I exclaimed, “but I thought it was the only way.”
“It is the most obvious way, the simplest way if there is someone who loves the one who is fading. But it is not the only way. I lost your naneth, and I did not fade. Elrond lost his wife, yet he is still here. There are other ways, they just require more from you because you must survive long enough for them to work.”
“Tell me, Ada, ae syntrea chen. What other ways?” I asked. I did not want to fade, despite the way I was feeling.
“Some Elves take comfort in the arms of temporary lovers, but I do not think that will be your way. Since you met Arwen, you have eschewed casual lovers, so I doubt you would seek one now. Instead, you must learn to draw your strength from the land, ion nín. You can talk to the trees, I know. Now you must learn to draw from them, but it takes great discipline, because you must do this yourself. You cannot rely on them to strengthen you unawares. You must do this consciously, before you become so mired in your depression that you succumb to it. You will learn, in time. In the meantime, I will support you.”
“Is that really possible?” I responded slowly. I had never heard of such a thing.
“Not for most, but then, most do not hear the trees the way we do. We are Silvan Elves. Our connection with the land is unbroken. Surely you noticed the difference when you traveled with the Peredhil.”
“I noticed, but I thought it was because they were half-Elven,” I replied.
“Ala, it is because they are Noldor. Their connection was diminished when their ancestors crossed the sea. The trees speak to you, unbidden, do they not?”
“They do,” I replied, “though not all the time.”
“Then you can do this. You can learn to draw from them and stop this before it consumes you.” I agreed to try. I started to rise, to find a place to spread my bedroll for the night. “Tamip’olad, Legolas. Spread your bedroll here tonight. It will be easier for you if you do not have to face the darkness alone.”
He was right. Having him there to hold me during the dark recesses of the night did make it easier. For the first time since seeing Aragorn and Arwen together by the waterfall that had been hers and mine, I did not reach for my knife that night. I still struggled with my grief, but my father’s presence was a balm to my soul and despair did not overwhelm me.
Melin chen – I love you
Caun nín – my prince
Ion nín – my son
Mae govannen – well met
Naneth – mother
Peredhil – half-Elves
Tamip’olad – stay
Tolo – come
Chapter 56
The days of my trip home were bearable. Having to guide my horse and watch for Orc sign forced my mind away from my self-pity for a time, but the nights were awful. Even with the link to my father vibrant in my mind, I would catch myself reaching for my knife at least once a night, thinking that nothing could be worth bearing this torture. Each time, my father would fight my demons for me, his touch in my mind restraining my hand. He never seemed to grow tired or frustrated with me, though I grew frustrated with myself, with my own weakness. Did I really care so little for life that I was willing to throw it all away? During the day, surrounded by light and the beauty of Arda, I could say no, but at night, with only Ithil’s rays to keep me company and the weight of the darkness pressing in around me, I lost that assurance. I was halfway home when a voice hailed me from the woods. “Mae govannen, caun nín.”
I jerked my horse to a halt, head whipping around, searching for the source of the voice. Saelbeth dropped down from his perch in a tree. “King Thranduil said we would meet you today. Tolo, your father wants to see you. His tent is just over the next rise.”
I followed Saelbeth mutely over the next hill. As he had said, my father’s traveling tent was set up in a clearing, and my father stood at the open flaps, waiting for me. I wanted to throw myself from my horse into his arms, seeking comfort as I had not done since I was an Elfling, but I forced myself to dismount calmly and to salute my father, hand to my chest, warrior to King. He inclined his head, accepting my salute as his due. Then, he gestured for me to enter his tent. I could hear his voice muffled by the tent walls, dismissing his guards, instructing them to form a perimeter beyond the range of Elven hearing.
He waited outside until his escort was arranged to his satisfaction, then he joined me inside. I had remained standing, unsure of what he would say to me. In fact, he said nothing, just opened his arms to me, folding me against him tightly when I moved into his embrace.
“Melin chen, ion nín,” he murmured against my hair. I clung to him as if my very life depended on it, and perhaps it did, letting out all my grief and anger. The words I spoke were not coherent as they poured from me, but the words did not matter. I could feel the bond between us so strongly that I could all but see it, and through it, my father felt what I was feeling and understood what I could not say. He did not try to reason with me or to explain away my sadness and sense of betrayal. Nor did he question my actions as the twins had always done. He just accepted what I was feeling, letting it wash through him and out of me. It was the lancing of a boil that had festered for too long, a drawn-out, painful cleansing that left me trembling in its aftermath.
My father kept me pulled snugly against him as he sank to the floor. I curled against him, my head resting in his lap, his hand gently stroking my hair and back. As he held me, memories of my childhood flickered through my mind, of my father comforting me just this way when no other comfort would do. Once more, millennia later, no other comfort would do, and my father gave me what I needed, as he had always done.
When the emotional storm had passed and I was relatively calm again, I sat up and looked at my father. “How am I to live like this, Ada?” I asked plaintively. “I cannot even make it through the night alone. You cannot support me like this forever.”
“Do not underestimate me, ion nín. I will support you as long as you need, but you do not want to live that way, I know. It will take time, but your grief will lessen, and you will learn to find your strength in other ways.”
“What other ways, Ada? I thought that an Elf who was fading could only be saved by a bond or by leaving for Valinor.”
“Is that you want, Legolas? To bind yourself to someone you do not love in order to stay alive? You would be alive, that is true, but it would only be half a life. If you bind yourself that way, the one with whom you share a bond would never be able to be with another. Nor would you, for your emotions would carry through the link and you would destroy each other,” my father said, almost harshly.
“I do not want that,” I exclaimed, “but I thought it was the only way.”
“It is the most obvious way, the simplest way if there is someone who loves the one who is fading. But it is not the only way. I lost your naneth, and I did not fade. Elrond lost his wife, yet he is still here. There are other ways, they just require more from you because you must survive long enough for them to work.”
“Tell me, Ada, ae syntrea chen. What other ways?” I asked. I did not want to fade, despite the way I was feeling.
“Some Elves take comfort in the arms of temporary lovers, but I do not think that will be your way. Since you met Arwen, you have eschewed casual lovers, so I doubt you would seek one now. Instead, you must learn to draw your strength from the land, ion nín. You can talk to the trees, I know. Now you must learn to draw from them, but it takes great discipline, because you must do this yourself. You cannot rely on them to strengthen you unawares. You must do this consciously, before you become so mired in your depression that you succumb to it. You will learn, in time. In the meantime, I will support you.”
“Is that really possible?” I responded slowly. I had never heard of such a thing.
“Not for most, but then, most do not hear the trees the way we do. We are Silvan Elves. Our connection with the land is unbroken. Surely you noticed the difference when you traveled with the Peredhil.”
“I noticed, but I thought it was because they were half-Elven,” I replied.
“Ala, it is because they are Noldor. Their connection was diminished when their ancestors crossed the sea. The trees speak to you, unbidden, do they not?”
“They do,” I replied, “though not all the time.”
“Then you can do this. You can learn to draw from them and stop this before it consumes you.” I agreed to try. I started to rise, to find a place to spread my bedroll for the night. “Tamip’olad, Legolas. Spread your bedroll here tonight. It will be easier for you if you do not have to face the darkness alone.”
He was right. Having him there to hold me during the dark recesses of the night did make it easier. For the first time since seeing Aragorn and Arwen together by the waterfall that had been hers and mine, I did not reach for my knife that night. I still struggled with my grief, but my father’s presence was a balm to my soul and despair did not overwhelm me.