Deeper Waters

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DEEPER WATERS
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Chapter 7


Imrahil picked up a stone and lobbed it out across the river. It fell a good three yards short of the great rock at which he was aiming, a fact that somehow failed to surprise him.

“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath. An appropriate comment indeed.

If the purpose of spending the day alone had been to find some answers, he would have to admit he had failed. All he had succeeded in doing as he walked through the forest and along the riverbank was raising more questions and running through a number of unpleasant scenarios in his head. Now the sun was about to set and he would have to make his way back to the elves’ settlement for a repeat of the morning’s charade at the dining table.

He had sat and discussed trivialities with Legolas at breakfast, of course; he would not be much of a royal if he was incapable of maintaining appearances. How many of the other elves had been fooled by the act he had no way of knowing, but he would wager the number was small. Heledir had not been taken in, that much was obvious. The man’s eyes, filled with alarm, had barely left the prince’s face throughout the mercifully short meal.

Perhaps he should feign illness and excuse himself from dinner altogether. It would save them all a lot of discomfort.

Picking up another stone and tossing it from hand to hand, Imrahil tried to bring his mind back to the real issue. Was he seriously considering choosing to spend the rest of his life without Legolas?

The elf had always been honest with him about his prior commitment to Aragorn, and Imrahil had accepted the fact without question. Perhaps he would have been better to express some of his curiosity about the exact nature of their bond, instead of being so quick to offer his understanding and support. He might then have avoided constructing his own version of the truth wherein Legolas’s love for the king was little more than a noble relic of a thing past. In this rose-tinted picture there was no real impediment to Imrahil’s developing relationship with the elf, and their future held only happiness and passion.

‘If ever a man was a fool . . .’ he reproached himself. To have thought for a moment that Aragorn could have known Legolas’s love and simply put it behind him was, on reflection, ludicrous. Even if the king had taken to wife the most enigmatically beautiful woman Imrahil had set eyes on, such delights as he himself had shared with the blond warrior would be impossible to forget.

‘And he does not even pretend to be in love with me; how much more intense must it have been with Aragorn?’ Filled with the heat of a sudden desperate anger, Imrahil distracted himself from the stinging in his eyes by casting the second stone at the great rock. This time his aim was true. There was a loud crack as the pebble split into pieces and scattered into the water.

“A fine shot, my friend.”

Imrahil closed his eyes for a second and inhaled deeply before spinning round to face Legolas. The elf was standing quite still in the shadow of the trees, gazing at him. To an uneducated observer his face would appear totally impassive, but the man recognised a strain around the blue eyes which gave him a fleeting, grim satisfaction.

“How long have you been watching me?” he demanded.

For a moment Legolas almost looked flustered. “I have not . . . it has taken me a while to find you, and I came to bring you this.” He took a step forward and proffered a scroll. Glancing at it, Imrahil recognised the seal of his nephew, Faramir.

“I did not intend to disturb you, but the messenger assured me that it is urgent,” the elf continued.

Imrahil took the letter warily, avoiding both the elf’s eyes and any contact of their hands. He could feel Legolas’s stare upon him as he went to sit on a rock and unrolled the message.

“Now that I am here, would you object if I stayed?” The words were spoken quietly.

“Please yourself,” replied Imrahil shortly, his attention carefully focussed on the letter. His pulse was racing, but he was determined to do his utmost to conceal the fact.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Legolas fold himself neatly to sit cross-legged on the grass. Once he started to read Faramir’s words, however, the elf’s presence momentarily ceased to concern him.

“This is incredible!” Forgetting their quarrel for a second, he waved the scroll at Legolas.

“It is bad news?”

“In truth, I am not sure. My son – I cannot believe it.”

“You have already whetted my appetite for the detail, Imrahil.”

He caught the elf’s shy half-smile and sighed. Who else did he have to confide in, after all?

“Celaeren has managed to meet a woman and fall in love, as she with him.”


“And this is a bad thing? Is she an inappropriate choice?”

Imrahil snorted. “According to my nephew, she is a fine young maid of Rohan, of noble blood and character. She is also betrothed to a lord of the Mark, and her brother will not countenance her breaking off the engagement.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Then it is sad, but surely they accept that they must part.”

“Apparently not. It seems the girl has already run away from home once, and now threatens to do herself harm if she is forcibly returned to her family. And my chivalrous son has vowed to stand by her. Gods! Why can he not avoid trouble for even a few days?”

“And what is Faramir’s opinion?”

“He will not take responsibility for removing her from Emyn Arnen, but he fears a serious diplomatic incident if this is not resolved. She comes from a powerful clan, this Rosalind. So he requests that I return to the city – immediately.”

They stared at each other as Imrahil realised what he was about to say. “I shall leave tomorrow morning.”

Legolas nodded. “Then we must talk now. There is much I wis say say to you, if you will hear it.”

Imrahil discovered that all his angry fire had left him. He felt, if anything, defeated. There was no telling where the conversation would lead, but he would not be so childish as to deny the elf his chance to speak.

“Before I say anything else, you should know that you mean a great deal to me,” Legolas began. “Of course, it is your prerogative to decide to end this . . . this relationship of ours; but it is my sincerest wish that you will hear me out and choose otherwise.”

Despite all his misgivings, Imrahil felt a warmth spreading through him at the heartfelt words. The temptation to close the distance between them and touch Legolas was enormous. Had he really believed that he would be able to turn his lover away? He forced himself to remain still, and listened intently.

Interpreting his silence as consent, the elf continued, “The bond I share with Aragorn is not something within my control. It is a fact of my life that I must deal with as well as I can.”

“That I understand, although in truth I at sut sure what it really means.”

“We have shared a similar connection, you and I, from time to time. It is something like that, although not so strong unless we are physically near each other. But I am constantly aware of him; if ill befalls him, I sense it; his pain is mine, and I feel his absence like an ache, every day. In a happy partnership the bonding of two spirits must be a wondrous thing. In this situation it is . . . it can be difficult, in spite of the fact that I love him, and chose to pledge my spirit to his.”

“Does he feel it too?” Imrahil felt frankly bewildered. How could Aragorn possibly have entered into such a commitment and then withdrawn from it? He was a man of honour, surely. Yet even less likely was the thought that Legolas could have broken away from the king of his own volition.

“I cannot doubt that he feels something of it, and I do not believe that it is easy for him; but he is a man, and his spirit is not bound by the same laws as mine. Thankfully so, for he did not choose to be in this position.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have never asked how we came to be joined in thrst rst place, and it seemed best, for Aragorn’s sake and yours, that I did not speak of it. Yet perhaps if you knew the truth of it you would understand why matters have transpired this way.” The elf paused, as if unsure.

“I am listening.” Imrahil leaned forward, peering through the rapidly gathering gloom to catch the expression in Legolas’s eyes. It was hard to read.

“It is not easy for me to speak of such things, even though I trust you absolutely to keep confidence.”

“Of course.”

“Aragorn and I met some fifty years ago, and became close, but we made no commitment to each other. By the time we embarked on the quest of the Ring together, he was betrothed to Arwen, and although I still felt great love for him, it was clear that nothing could come of it.”

Imrahil felt his jaw drop as he stared at the elf in astonishment. This bond was something that had happened after the Ring quest began? Only thirteen years ago?

“I would never have approached one who was betrothed to another, but circumstances overtook us.” Legolas shifted on the ground as if his position was giving him some discomfort. Imrahil had never seen him fidget in such a way; his unease was surely not due to a physical cause.

“During the quest, Aragorn was . . . wounded, in his soul. We feared to lose him; even the Lady of the Golden Wood could not help him. In desperation I joined my spirit to his, in order to lend him strength. It was the only thing I could do to save him. He did not wish for it, in fact he trto sto stop me, but my will prevailed.” The elf had averted his eyes as he spoke. Imrahil had no doubt he was telling the truth, but clearly there was some large part of it too painful to be uncovered. *

“Then you – you were not . . . ” He stopped, realising that he could not ask Legolas the question that was eating into his heart. An instant later the full import of the elf’s tale struck him, and he understood that whether or not the pair had been lovers in the physical sense was a matter of no importance by comparison.

“You bonded yourself to him, knowing that he was Arwen’s, and that you would spend the rest of your life mourning his loss?” The thought was unbearable.

“I had no choice,” came the simple reply.

“Legolas . . .”

All at once he was on his knees at the elf’s side, his arms wrapped around the slender body, one hand cradling the golden head against his shoulder.

“My love, my love, I am so sorry . . .” Imrahil whispered, as he stroked the soft hair.

Legolas’s armsnd tnd their way around Imrahil’s waist, and they held each other silently for a moment. But the elf then pulled away to look him in the eye, and the man sat back to concentrate on hice, ce, and his words.

“I do not look for your sympathy, Imrahil. Many lost their lives in the Great War. Considering the alternative if Aragorn was lost to us, mine was an easy choice to make. And there were . . . moments of happiness.”

Imrahil knew that here was the answer to his unspoken question. So the king had indeed known what it was to hold Legolas in his arms, to feel every sense awaken into bliss and to experience the incomparable joy of eliciting the elf’s own pleasure. He felt a wave of mingled jealousy and desire course through him like fire, but said nothing.

Suddenly he recalled that night, thirteen years ago, when in the silence of the army camp Legolas had come to him so full of sorrow and need, and changed his life for ever. If he had thought this through with even half his brain, he should have realised that the truth was far more powerful and tragic than a simple memory of a past love.

“Can it not be ended, this bond, if both parties agree to it?” he asked gently.

“Perhaps if one of us truly ceased to love the other. I do not know. In all honesty, I do not fully understand my own situation, as it seems to be without precedent; and there are few left here in Middle Earth who could advise me, even if I felt able to discuss the matter.”

“And what will happen when Aragorn . . .”

“When he dies?” The haunted look on the elf’s face was enough to make Imrahil curse his foolish tongue. “Oh, fear not, I shall not perish or fade away unless I choose to do so. That much the Lady was able tll mll me before she sailed. Whether my spirit will ever be truly free again, I do not know.”

“It is intolerable,” said Imrahil sorrowfully, “And I feel so helpless, useless, in the face of it.”
.”

“Do not say it! Have I not told you that in your presence my heart has discovered such peace as it has not known for years? You have given me so much.”

“I have been a complete fool.” The man spokemly.mly.

Legolas laughed sadly. “I am the bigger fool. I have been far too concerned with hiding the truth, with the result that I have taken you for granted. I am afraid I have not shown myself to be worthy of your love.”

“Oh, Legolas,” was all Imrahil could find to say. He reached for the elf’s hand and clutched it between both his own.

“Do you still want me to accompany you to Emyn Arnen tomorrow?” The request was tentative, and he thought he could hear a plea in the elf’s voice.

“Yes, of course I do.”

“And to Minas Tirith?”

Imrahil was amazed. “What?”

“I have thought long and hard about this. Aragorn’s guilt at the thought of me being alone far outweighs his jealousy at the thought of me with another. Perhaps it is time I stopped trying to shield him, and allowed him to accept the truth. I will come with you, if you will have me.”

“If I will have you? Gods! Come here . . .”

Almost immediately Imrahil found himself lying on his side on the grass, his arms full of affectionate elf. They kissed for a long time, touching each other gently, winding limbs around each other in a close but almost chaste embrace. He realised with a shock that Legolas was letting the connection between them grow, allowing him to feel the warmth – the happiness – the elf was experiencing as a result of their reconciliation. His own reservations were forgotten; he could not imagine feeling more contented.

A mere moment later Legolas proved to Imrahil that his imagination was sorely limited. Breaking off from their kiss, the elf raised a hand to stroke the man’s face as he spoke.

“Imrahil.”

“Yes.”

“For too long I have worried about this, what it might mean, whether it was right to say it. But today I have decided to listen to my heart, and its song is clear to me. I love you, my beautiful prince of men; I can deny it no longer.”

There were no words that could possibly do justice to the crescend fee feeling in Imrahil’s breast, so he uttered none. He simply drew his lover back into the kiss, and let his body say what his voice could not.


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It was a little after midnight by the time the lovers reached the encampment, treading softly through the forest.

“They will already have eaten,” Legolas said. “Shall we join them in the hall, or go straight to my house? I can send word to Meluinen that we are here, and ask for some food to be sent.”

“I have no wish to appear ill-mannered, but I have no stomach for company now,” Imrahil replied, slipping an arm around the elf’s waist and pulling him close. “I only want to lie beside you and wallow in my good fortune.”

“Then to my house it is.”

“I shall join you in a little while, but there is something I must do first.” In response to the elf’s raised eyebrow he continued, “It would not do to leave it until morning.”

“I shall be waiting, then.”

They parted with a lingering kiss at a branching of the footpath, and Imrahil made his way stealthily through the olives towards the tiny hut. The gentle glow of an oil lamp was visible through the curtained window, and as he watched, a shadow moved across it. He had guessed rightly; his secretary would have had no heart for merriment this evening, and so had already retired.

He knocked softly, and called the man’s name. Heledir was at the door almost at once, still dressed in his tunic and breeches, and looking distinctly dishevelled.

“My Lord!” His voice was something between a cry and a whisper. “Are you well? Is there a problem?”

“I am well, my friend,” Imrahil smiled. “I have some news for you, and it will not wait until morning. May I come in?”

“Of course, Sire!” Heledir turned and began to fuss around the tiny room, straightening the objects on the long desk and pushing his boots further underneath it.

“Please, do not trouble yourself. I only wish to talk to you for a moment.” He perched himself on the single chair as the secretary sank to the bed, still wearing his anxious expression.

“You know that a messenger arrived from Emyn Arnen today, with urgent news from Prince Faramir?”

“Aye, my Lord.”

“It seems that a . . . situation has arisen there, and my presence is needed. We ride in the morning.”

“My Lord.” The note of disappointment was unmistakeable.

Imrahil could not resist a grin. “By ‘We’, I refer to myself and Prince Legolas; he has kindly volunteered to accompany me.”

“Sire?” The secretary stared at him with saucer eyes.

“You, Heledir, are to stay here a little longer. Your work in the library is not yet finished, I believe; and I will not require your services for some days. I suggest that you ride to meet me in Minas Tirith at the end of next week. Meluinen will escort you.”

“Sire, I do not know what to say.”

“You need say nothing,” replied the prince. “Heledir, happiness is not easy to find, and all too fleeting when we do meet it. Make the most of it now, my friend.”

There were tears in the man’s brown eyes, but he met those of his prince unwaveringly. “You are too good to me, my Lord. I do not deserve it.”

“Do not say such a thing, Heledir. I beg to differ. If anything, I have been gy ofy of taking you for granted, and I intend to do so no longer. Now, rest, for I am sure you have much to do on the morrow.”

“Thank you, my Lord. May your dreams be blessed by the Lady herself.”

Imrahil smiled widely, and for once saw no embarrassment on the secretary’s face, only joy to mirror his own. “On this night of all nights, I do not doubt it,” he said.

To be continued…


* Author's Note: As Imrahil surmised, there is indeed more to the circumstances of Legolas's bond with Aragorn than he recounted here. If you would like to know the full story, you can find it in 'Call of the Sea' by Capella, also available on this site, but listed under Lord of the Rings - Movies, due to the fact that a couple of film scenes are included in it.