Feud

Feud
www.feud.shadowess.com
By erobey, robey61@yahoo.com
Beta'd by Sarah AK

Disclaimer: the recognised characters and settings used in this fiction were created by JRR Tolkien and are the property of his estate. The words, other characters, and ideas here surrounding them belong to erobey alone. No infringement is intended or monies earned through this work.

A/N: So sorry this took so long! Thank you all for your patience! And everyone thank the folks at The Blue Mug Café in downtown Escondido. They have free wireless internet and really great coffee! This chapter is made possible by their connection! So come to the Blue Mug Café at 122 Kalmia St in Escondido California, if you happen to be in the area for any reason!

Chapter 54: Legolas thêl amarth o noss tîn [Legolas Resolves his Family's Fate]

Kneeling on the rough stone floor just behind the hide covered entrance to the Prince's nursery, Legolas breathed long and slow, measuring his respiration to calm and quiet his exhaustion and his nerves. He rested his cheek against the cool solidity of the abrasive texture, marvelling that the rock's temperature felt soothing against his skin. Legolas was more overtaxed than he had realised, so absorbed had his attention been upon the gruelling task of moving toward this one spot. Awkwardly he stretched his injured leg out in the cramped space, exasperated that he could not quite extend the limb fully and relieve the insistent throbbing in his thigh. The exacting demands of the climb through the tunnels had strained the knitting tissues and his body was not shy of complaining about it. He sat with his sore limb bent to the side and leaned his shoulder upon the stone for support.

The darkness had retreated, dispelled by the faint illumination leaking from the chamber beyond, and after the total blindness of the narrow conduits the dim shimmering was as uplifting to the Tawarwaith as the first streaks of Anor's rays breaking over the great expanse of the Greenwood's canopy viewed from the heights of the Sentinel at dawn. Legolas inhaled a long lungful and puffed it back out, not quite silently, from his open mouth to dampen the dispassionate walls with a fine film of his body's moisture. Tentatively he reached out and trailed his fingertips down the thick leather curtain blocking both his view of the room and discovery by the occupants within. At the pressure, the covering flattened against a densely smooth object.

{A cabinet of some sort, even as the wardrobe in my quarters guards the entrance to the escape chutes there.}, he reasoned. The furniture would be easy to shift, but doing so was unnecessary as the cupboard undoubtedly was constructed with a false back that neatly slid open to allow access to the hidden exit. Legolas wondered who had been tarpearpenter, for Fearfaron obviously knew nothing of these clever contrivances, else he would have taken measures to secure the one in Legolas' suite.

{His father, perhaps.}, the archer thought, and was aggrieved by the sudden realisation that he did not know who this elf was or where he might be, or even if he yet lived or waited amid the many feär in Mandos' abode. {My adopted father deserves more attention from me than this omission admits! I will learn of Fearfaron's life before I return to the Tasks.}

Beyond the bolthole, Thranduil and Meril were speaking together. He could hear them, and for some reason this was a circumstance Legolas had not envisioned when constructing his plans for meeting baby Taurant. The new parents were engrossed in their talk, obviously content in the presence of each other and their newborn, exchanging thoughts and emotions that would only be revealed by who who were completely assured of the bond of love and loyalty they shared.

Legolas listened to a conversation unlike any he had ever heard in all his lifetime. He curled up on the small landing, knees folded and an ear pressed against the tough deerskin boundary, shamelessly straining to catch every syllable, every nuance of tone and timbre between the royal couple.

"Beloved, the joy you have brought to my heart nearly erases the scars wrought there by the loss of my parents and my brother," whispered the King.

"As your love has vanquished my own grief, dearest one!" the woodland inu [female elf] replied gently. "My sorrow knows a purpose in this creation of life between us. Taurant is the nearest thing to perfection I have ever seen, is he not?"

"Such a question! Of course he is perfect! He represents the melding of all that is best in both our peoples! His life will be marked by greatness; I could sense it the moment he was conceived!"

"You may be slightly biased in that assessment, yet I find myself in agreement!"

"We must raise him with the understanding of both halves of his heritage, Beloved. I will undertake to teach him the ways of the Sindar, and you may initiate his instruction in Sylvan custom. Together we will raise this child in wisdom and strength."

"Let us consider the education of both our little ones, Thranduil, for Gwilith grows more precocious by the hour!"

This observation coaxed a light and sparkling laugh from the Sinda Lord, and in the humble alcove Legolas was shocked, for he had never heard the King generate such a sound.

"Aye, you are right there! She has a fine mind, not unlike her Naneth! Did you hear what she has decided to call our stablemaster?"

"Thîrheidad? [Face of Purpose]"

"The same. From the first day I took her riding with me, he has been Thûlhaer! [Bitter Breath] Even the warriors are ng hng him thus now!"

Both elves burst into merry peals of bright giggling at this unfortunately appropriate misnomer and could not contain their mirth for several minutes. Mixed within their joyous outburst Legolas could just catch the gurgling glee of an infant's laughter and his heart contracted in sorrow despite the jovial mood within. It occurred to him to wonder if he had ever uttered such a delighted chortling when a babe, for surely he had never joined in such harmonious interaction with his parents. He tried hard to recall impressions from his earliest days, and was thoroughly flabbergasted when his mind completely refused to bring the memories forth.

{It cannot have been so bleak! Naneth loved me then, even if there was no affection between her and Thranduil. It is just too long ago for the images to have remained.}, he reasoned, but this did not ease the uncomfortable tightness encircling his chest.

"Look how clever he is! Taurant understands our joke!" cooed Meril, and this earned a boisterous guffaw from her husband.

"He shares our merriment, but cannot begin to know of what we speak, Beloved!"

"That is what you used to say of Gwilwileth!"

"Aye, but even she did not comprehend the complexity involved in word-play when but days old! We are safe to say what we please in Taurant's presence for some months yet, I would deem!"

"Perhaps. What then of Gwilith? I will have less time than before, yet I do not wish for her training to be handed off to an aid, though that elf be chosen by myself with the utmost care! She is not yet even three years and needs our strength, too!"

"True, yet I am here also! We need not trust to any other for a time. Let me take on the little one; she will lighten my mood when I must be away from you!"

"Thranduil, what will you do with an active child in your council rooms? I will not have our daughter subjected to gruesome reports of the activities of Orcs or for her first understanding of our home to be of the Shadow threatening us!"

"Calm yourself, Meril!" the Sinda soothed his wife. "I would not have it thus either! Nay, there is still Lindalcon to depend upon as well. When I must meet with my warriors or discuss the encroaching Darkness, her brother will safeguard her at play in the gardens. I need but arrange my schedule to accommodate time with her!"

"Indeed, that you must, for I will not be shorted on your company either! Taurant and I will still need the bulk of your strength in the days ahead. Let the Council do their duty and assume the tedium of administration for a time. You may be called upon for the important meetings and left in peace otherwise! So shall I tell Iarwain!"

"Then so shall it be done, O Queen of the Woodland Realm!" Thranduil was smiling around his words and the two shared a silent moment that was yet not totally quiet as the unmistakable sounds of lips caressing and hearts sighing in the slow and languorous enjoyment of the sensation filled the chamber's airspace and filtered into the tiny portal's vestibule.

Legolas clenched his hands and drew his head away from the covering instantly. The euphony of their shared elation ignited a spark of angry denial in the Tawarwaith's heart. This was not a proclamation Ningloriel's replacement deserved. Thranduil's mate she was in truth, yet the fallen archer could not bear to think of any but his mother as Greenwood's Queen. Nor was the romantic friction the couple were engaged in an activity he wished to witness, even removed from the sight of it as he was.

{Why could it not have been Ningloriel that Thranduil adored and my parents there beyond the blocked door, delighting in each other?}

Loyal to a fault, Legolas refused to admit that his mother deserved part of the blame for the antagonism between his mismatched progenitors, though his heart knew it well enough. And the concept of Thranduil as a loving father helping with the raising of his offspring galled the former prince. To this day, the King had not once touched Legolas nor spoken his name.

Too easily now did these memories arise unbidden into his thoughts. The shifting scenes flashed through Legolas' mind chaotically, mere minutes marking years rolling on like a river's perpetual flux, and his mental mirror revealed him to be a babe or a toddler one moment and a youth the next. Legolas regretted his desire to relive his infancy and early childhood; yet once begun the images flooded his mind and overtook his body, instigating a surging swell of somatic responses.

The woodland warrior shook his head to halt the unwholesome replay of his growing years. These were not the thoughts he wished to entertain on the threshold of meeting his infant brother and he refused to succumb again to the lure of lingering preoccupation with circumstances which had never been under his control in the first place and clearly could not be changed now. With a jolt Legolas realised his heart was racing and his ribs were aching from the nervously shallow breathing his distress generated. It was the same old sensation of dread and self-loathing he experienced whenever he had to be near Thranduil.

{No wonder there is tension here; it springs from me!} He was surprised that the source of discomfort was the ingrained conditioning begun in his infancy, for he had automatically attributed his worries to current events. {I am a child no more, nor have I been for many long years. Worse than Thranduil have I endured!}, he admonished himself soundly and drew a steadying inhalation in the close confinement, holding the air a few seconds before releasing it. {I must not bring discord to the little one, or it would mar forever Taurant's thoughts of me.} The struggle to master his childhood reflexes became easier as his notice was drawn again to the occupants of the nursery room.

The infant prince was fussing over the loss of attention suffered due to his parents' incipient spooning and cuddling. The Wood Elf King snickered and then the sputtering, wet sibilance of lips against a ticklish tummy preceded a bright bubble of bliss bursting through the air as the babe laughed as loud as his lungs' capacity permitted. Meril joined in the gentle horseplay and soon the air resounded with their admixed laughter, punctuated by the noisy razzing.

In spite of himself, Legolas chuckled too as he vividly imagined this scene and clearly acknowledged his brother's delight. As soon as the softly melodic giggle left his throat he clamped a hand over his mouth and stared wide-eyed at the dimly outlined entrance. His heart rate surged anew as he waited for the inevitable thudding of the King's boots across the floor.

Taurant became silent all at once and in response his parents did likewise. For nearly a full minute the chambers were quiescent, and then the infant let out an irritated wail nearly as voluble as his previous peels of joy and gregarious whoops. The abrupt change in mood spurred the adults to action, yet no one approached the hidden hatchway, for though the inadvertent laugh had seemed loud and resounding to Legolas, the happy couple had been too engrossed in their play to notice the vocal accompaniment to their private hilarity.

"Ah! He is hungry and wet, I wager!" spoke Thranduil sagely.

"Very well, since you cannot feed him, you may make him dry!" retorted his mate with a light laugh.

The child continued to whimper and cry as movement within the room was documented by the sounds of the creaking bed when the father rose to care for his son. Thranduil murmured soothingly while his concentration was tendered to the task at hand. That Meril had arisen also was evident from the new location from which her words emanated, joined by the almost soundless pressure of wooden rockers upon a plush fur rug.

"Here let me take him now," her voice was gentle and sweetly maternal, the way Legolas remembered her speaking to Lindalcon when he had first met Valtamar's family so many years ago. Soon the new child ceased his crying and as she nursed the babe Meril filled the comfortable peace with a lullaby all Wood Elves must have heard in their infancy.

And though this was not his Naneth, nor was he held in the warm security of loving arms, still the song comforted Legolas and he relaxed again within the stony cocoon, relieved to remain undiscovered. The Tawarwaith needed the respite after the strain dealt his body by the lengthy toil to climb the tunnels. The unnerving realisation of the hollow drear of his earliest days in comparison to Taurant's perinatal experiences was draining in its own way. He allowed his mind to be lulled into reverie, content to pretend the lullaby was for him, too.

Legolas did not care to mark the passing of time as he rested in harmony with his little brother. It might have been hours or days; such minutia was irrelevant. was was the first experience of true reverie he had enjoyed since before encountering the Noldor and he intended to claim the soothing state of being as long as possible. He could do nothing until Lindalcon arrived and the couple left for their repast on the balcony anyway. He let his wandering feä roam the mountain's bowels, hoping to merge with the timeless and unconditional acceptance of Tawar. As before, no means of breaching the inviolability of the pre presented itself, and yet Legolas did find one source of comfort open to his errant spirit.

Momentarily stunned by the unexplained sense of the wild elf's presence near him, it took Mithrandir a few seconds to comprehend what was going on. Once he determined that he was encountering the archer in reverie, the wizard encouraged fusion between them, and welcomed Legolas' dream-walking soul into his own. Gandalf was intrigued to say the least.

He tried to send his thoughts to the archer, but met a firm barrier against communication. He was unable to ask anything of Legolas, for the warrior was not open to him in that way, nor could Mithrandir determine where, in physical terms, his friend was resting for the same reason. The wizard found that he was not required for advice or counsel, the Tawarwaith merely needed a protected place to confront his reality.

Gandalf found himself a witness to this elven state of mind in a manner few even among elf-kind were privy to observe. Every thought, feeling, and memory that passed through Legolas' brain for the next hours was shared entirely with Mithrandir. The Maia was quite touched by the trust the wild elf placed in him to permit this.

Engrossed in their search for the Tawarwaith, the carpenter and the mortal noticed the abrupt change in the wizard and waited for an explanation of his dazed and abruptly silent demeanour. Yet Gandalf found he did not want to explain to his comrades what was going on, feeling too much would be read into such a communion in light of the arguments against his previous aid to the archer. So he merely explained away his amazement by saying Legolas had contacted him and the warrior was safe. Fearfaron was far from satisfied with this response but all his questions were pointless, for truly Gandalf knew nothing of Legolas' plans.

Safely immersed within the encompassing and compassionate spirit of the Istar, Legolas could evaluate his situation more calmly. While pleased and grateful for the wizard's welcome, he still sealed himself away from Mithrandir's highly active intellect, for the distinction between the Maia's spirit and that of the forest was striking.

Endlessly expansive, joining to Tawar granted the incongruous perspective of enveloping distance, allowing Legolas to see his existence as he might view the Greenwood from the canopy. Confluence with the Istar's mind, however, would be more like cataloguing the number and shape of individual leaves on every tree, assigning a reason for each specific variation discovered. The Maia's consciousness was aflame with dazzlingly complex, often distractingly contradictory systems of thought and fraught with the futile energetics of managing details.

The primary enlightenment Legolas achieved during this union was the separation between his soul and Taurant's. Perhaps this might seem an obvious distinction, yet the former prince had fallen into the trap of likening the little elf prince to himself, and then became disturbed by the vast inconsistencies between their situations. The time of introspection also granted him the opportunity to assess the interconnection between his past and the current reality he inhabited.

What had been before had nothing to do with what was occurring now, and yet none of this could have come to fruition had the events he so regretted never taken place.

Ningloriel would still be here, spending her days between Elrond and Maltahondo, Greenwood and Lorien, a bright but seldom seen presence in her son's world. Legolas missed her, but all of his lifetime he had yearned for her loving care even without understanding what it was his heart required. She was gone from him, yet had she ever been with him fully? Nay, and if she had remained, so would he continue to endure that longing.

Elrond and Malthen. The father he wished to love bedded him instead and the lover who bedded him turned into the father he was seeking to love. Here the wild elf's courage failed him and he could not look upon these injuries and find peace in their rendering. Too much pain was concentrated within these wounds to accept them as necessary. Legolas' panicking subconscious shied away from these two embodiments of his tormented self-hatred, turning his contemplative eye toward the centre point of his new existence: the carpenter.

Fearfaron would be only a friendly acquaintance, quietly going on with his simple life in the talan shared with Annaldír, had nothing changed. As strange as it seemed, Legolas was actually closer to Annaldír's soul now than he had ever been when the warrior was living. And the vast chasm in his life that Fearfaron now bridged was an incomprehensible void to the archer, and he could not bear to realise the depth of the emptiness he had accepted as his lot prior to the sorrow that had drawn them together. The Tawarwaith would remain fatherless but for the sacrifice of Annaldír in battle that day and the humble carpenter's outrage against the injustice of the chastisement twelve years later.

Lindalcon would be training for the guards, eager to follow his father's example, had Valtamar survived. Legolas counted the young elf more than a friend, through Gwilith and Taurant the two were now really brothers, and the archer felt pride to be accepted as such by the unwilling usurper. Even when everyone else refused to honour his father's bravery, Lindalcon did not become bitter nor rescind his avowment of Legolas' innocence. The youth's personal sacrifice of a warrior's calling, traded for the privilege to associate with the outcast archer, was in itself enough to bind Legolas' loyalty to him. But as much as Legolas valued this friendship, he would willingly relinquish it to secure an end to the suffering and grief Lindalcon experienced.

As for Meril, she would not be the King's consort, nor would Gwilith and Taurant exist had he succeeded in his duty and made his shot at the Goblin King.

Could he balance the feär his actions affected, good result against ill-fate, the Release of one and the births of two against three immortal deaths?

{Nay, for the measure is still weighted in Darkness' favour, and I have yet to confound its intent. Those three warriors were not the only lives ruined.}

In his heart the Tawarwaith could not reconcile the deficits his actions prompted. Not even for the return of the lives of Valtamar and Andamaitë would he bid the Valar to rescind the creation of his brother and sister. Yet the joy of these new souls was not sufficient to set free the spirits of his comrades, who even now awaited his actions to Release them, together upon the shores of the Great Sea beneath the brutal sun.

And what of Thranduil, the father he did not choose who chose not to love his first-born, who shunned and denied his own blood out of petty jealousy and personal pride? That coldly hostile Elda was not the same elf as the one within the nursery now, three meters distant from Legolas. This was Thranduil as he should have been, before sorrow and grief, bitterness and anger tainted his feä and blinded his insight.

The Sinda noble was transformed through his love for Meril and his overflowing delight in the generation of his second and third children. That the King held dearer than his own life Legolas' brother and sister the archer doubted not. He could hear it in his voice, compellingly borne within even the humblest of syllables referencing his son and daughter.

{How can Gwilith and Taurant not love him in turn? It is right that they should do so. How will they love him still should the truth of Erebor come to light?}

Legolas beseeched an answer from Tawar, for the quandary was tearing his heart, butar car could not hear him. When the Council convened, the outcome would strike a wound upon the King from which he would be unlikely to recover. It was inevitable that what impacted the parent would not spare the children. No wish had the outcast to visit the despair of his own experiences upon these little ones. His love for them was equal to their parents' devotion.

Indeed, he found he could not even uphold a grudge against the cruelly distant husband of Ningloriel when that elf was no longer present. Neither could he condemn the inu who usurped his Naneth's place among their people, for this was the same elf that nurtured Gwilith and Taurant. With the power to destroy the unity within their fragile family, could Legolas rob his siblings of that which he had been denied?

{Nay, that shall not be so. Even though it be deemed their fate by Manwë and Iluvatar, yet will I strive against it!}

The decision made, Legolas returned from reverie content with the calm resolve that filled his mind. His purpose was clearer now than he had ever known it, and he founs wrs wretched rancour towards his estranged father removed.

At this moment Lindalcon entered with Gwilith and the child squealed with delight to see her baby brother. The awakening infant prince promptly responded to her piercing welcome with a startled outcry that resolved into a series of affronted shrieks. Lindalcon's scolding could be heard beneath caj cajoling of the King of the Woodland Realm entreating his little son to shush, which opposed the indignant if barely intelligible protests of Gwilith to her gwador beleg [big brother], as Meril tried to soothe them all.

Legolas grinned and did not worry about his light laughter drawing attention from the elves embroiled in the domestic pandemonium within. Gradually the infant settled and Gwilith became less agitated, and more coherent converse was possible.

"Nana, Gwilith hold Tauron!" the toddler demanded.

"Nay, Gwilith, you are too little!" her brother cautioned.

"I am not! Tauron little!" the haughty retort drew her father's indulgent laughter.

"Yes, Gwilwileth, you are much bigger than Taurant. What is this you are calling your baby brother?" the King demanded lightly, yet he was not entirely content with such a commonplace designation for his prince and heir.

"Tauron! Me and Limlas show Tauron the book!" the childishly petulant voice explained impatiently and inspired a sudden gasp from the concealed outcast.

"Limlas?" this was Meril's voice.

"Aye, just another of her pet names, Nana. I promised her we would share the picture book with Taurant this eve," Lindalcon smoothly covered the young one's slip. He hurried on with his planned speech. "I hope you are both feeling quite hungry tonight, for there is a special dinner prepared and waiting, with all your favourites, Nana! And to honour Mereth od Estol Arad [the naming day ceremony] tomorrow, I have asked for a concert below the balcony, so that as you dine you may judge if my choices for this event are appropriate!"

{Clever! I had not realised it was already time for the naming to take place! Taurant has been among us a ten-day already!} Legolas approved of Lindalcon's excuse for the serenade.

"Why, that is thoughtful of you, dearest!" Meril murmured in words that sounded slightly damp with joyous pride.

"Indeed! Thank-you, Lindalcon," Thranduil added, but only silence met his remark.

Lindalcon did not attempt either to acknowledge the false gratitude of the King or the discomfort his refusal to reply generated. Taurant fussed and the mood quickly shifted again.

"Very well, my little one, you may go to your older brother now! Here, Lindalcon, he misses you!" Meril said and passed the newborn over. The babe settled contentedly amid the soft cooing of Valtamar's son, and Legolas grinned to hear such gentle gibberish from his young friend.

"Lind'on! Lind'on, let me hold Tauron!" this demand from Gwilwileth was met with warmly sounded laughter from her parents.

"Alright! Here, sit on the sofa next to me and I will help you," Lindalcon at last conceded to her strident pleas.

"You have things well in hand, Lindalcon, and so we will go to enjoy this special feast you have arranged," said Meril, voice brimming with happiness as she observed the tableau of her three offspring upon the comfortable settee.

Here was the realisation of her long held desire to quell once and for all the bitter thorns of despair and grief that had pierced her soul and threatened her existence. For Lindalcon's sake she had exerted her will to bring all this about, for she could not bear to leave him orphaned or suffer him to fade along with her. Now both of them were firmly attached here with these children, and their family was healed. If Meril chose to ignore the discord between her new mate and her oldest child, perhaps it was because she knew of no remedy that would causcause her first-born further pain, and for this a mother may be forgiven.

The unobtrusive steps marking the retreat of the royal couple sounded as loud as hoof beats on stone to Legolas, who could scarcely breathe in his anticipation of at last joining his siblings in the room beyond.

He waited.

Faintly wafting over the breeze from the courtyard garden, the pleasing strains of a quartet lifted in song accompanied by harp and lyre entered the stronghold, and signalled theivalival of the King and Queen upon their balcony. Amid this soft serenading, Gwilith's imitation of her mother's crooning cadences for Taurant was quite endearing, and Legolas could endure the separation no longer.

With impatient fingers he lifted away the deerskin hide and searched for the grip on the cupboard's backing that would allow him access to his family. Footsteps alerted him to Lindalcon's approach and in seconds the bright light of the chamber streamed into the dreary alcove, momentarily blinding the Tawarwaith as he struggled through the cramped opening on hands and knees. He felt Lindalcon's hand grip his arm to help him up and then he was through.

With a couple of blinks his vision adjusted once more to the normal light level and he beheld his baby brother for the first time, nestled contentedly in the crook of Lindalcon's arm, gazing serenely right at the wild archer as if he had quite expected to find him there.

Wordlessly Lindalcon transferred the infant to his brother, his smile nearly matching the exuberantly broad grin gracing Legolas' features as he took the tiny bundle up.

Legolas sighed in relief, for Taurant was not a bit afraid to find himself in strange arms. The two studied one another intently, each apparently committing the face and form of the other to permanent memory, recognising the blood bond between them as feä met feä for the first time.
Tbc.