This, And My Heart Beside *added ch. 20/part 1*

Once again, I'm behind in my posting and I apologize. This is getting to be a habit! Maybe this will make up for it: next chaper, we visit Ilandros! Thanks for being so patient.

CHAPTER 9

“Not the hair!” Legolas cried, even as he laughed and tried in vain to disentangle the roaming hands of his sister from its lengths. Little Hania had been fascinated with her brother’s hair for quite some time, and although she knew she would be reprimanded every time, she couldn’t resist plunging her hands into the flaxen silk, and rubbing it against her chubby cheek.

Naniel looked up from her needlework, and frowned. “Hania!” she scolded, and made to rise from her chair.

Legolas stopped her. “’Tis all right, naneth,” he said soothingly. He picked up the small girl and set her atop a wooden cabinet, putting her at eye level with him. She still clutched his hair stubbornly. Legolas placed a hand on either side of her and leaned his forehead against hers.

“She only does it because she knows how it annoys me,” he said with mock sternness, feigning a scowl. “How many times must I tell you to never touch me without my permission?”

Hania squealed happily, giggling at the silliness of her brother’s command. The Prince dropped all pretense of anger then, and smothered her cheek with a rapid succession of loud, sloppy kisses, and she squealed and laughed even louder.

Naniel came to stand beside her son. “You and her father indulge her too much, Legolas. She will never learn proper manners at this rate.” Placing her hands on her hips she turned to the child. “And you, young lady,” she admonished, “release your brother’s hair this instant. That hurts when you pull on it.” The Queen had a way of disciplining her children that never involved raising her voice, or making threats. She’d always been able to make her point with no more than a *look*, and she leveled that look at Hania now. The little Princess quickly pulled her hands from Legolas’ hair, horrified at the thought that she might’ve hurt her beloved brother. Her pale violet eyes welled with tears, and her little chin quivered.

“Ah, there now, cua,” Legolas soothed, as he picked her up and held her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. “I am unharmed, I assure you,” he promised. Hania leaned away from him to see for herself. He smiled at her radiantly, and she returned the smile, greatly relieved. Turning to Naniel then, she held out her arms to her, seeking reassurance that her mother wasn’t terribly angry with her.

The Queen took her gently from Legolas. “Come to me, my wild child,” she said lovingly, and kissed her cheek. Hania rested her head on Naniel’s shoulder, content that all was once again right with the world.

“I will see you both at dinner, naneth,” Legolas said as he walked toward the door. “I must speak with adar about …..” he hesitated and looked quickly at Hania. “Next week,” he finished, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

Naniel nodded and smiled, and Legolas left the room. By “next week” he was referring to his first trip to Ilandros in many years. Hania didn’t know of it yet, a decision that had been made by her parents and her brother unanimously, since she’d developed a very strong bond with Legolas, in addition to an acute case of hero-worship for him. Naniel didn’t like to think of what would happen when her son departed midweek next, but she was certain it wouldn’t be pleasant. Hania wouldn’t beg her brother to stay, at least not with words, because Hania never spoke. Not one word in her twenty eight years, and it was a phenomenon that had her family and every healer in Mirkwood baffled. She’d been examined and tested repeatedly, in an effort to find the cause for her silence, but none was ever found. Finally the most experienced of the palace healers said to Thranduil one day, “You should not fret, Majesty. The Princess is in perfect health, in every way. She will speak when she is ready. Perhaps you should enjoy the silence while you may. It may happen that when she *does* begin speaking, she will never *cease*.” He made this last comment with a gleam of humor in his eyes, and Thranduil laughed and felt more encouraged about his precious daughter’s condition than he had in quite some time.

But as of the present day, Hania still had never expressed herself with words, even though Legolas had been carrying on full conversations at her age. In spite of that, Naniel still wasn’t looking forward to her son’s departure to visit their friends, the royal family of Ilandros. Eru help us, she prayed.

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“Do you have a moment, adar?”

Thranduil looked up from the papers on his desk to see Legolas standing in the doorway of his library. He smiled with pleasure and pushed his chair back.

“I always have time for my children.”

“Did you ever believe that you would hear yourself utter those two words?” Legolas grinned as he approached the desk.

“My children?” the King asked. “No. Never. Your naneth and I had long given up trying, before your sister was given to us.”

Legolas grew solemn as he stood looking down at his father. “She is a gift,” he said sincerely.

Thranduil nodded. “As were *you*, my son. Even if you had remained our only child, we would have been absolutely content. Never forget that.”

The King gazed at his son with love and pride. Legolas had grown so much in the last few years alone, that it almost took Thranduil’s breath away each time he looked at him. At the age of eighty five years, he had only fifteen more until he reached his majority. But in his father’s opinion, the Prince had been an adult in every way for quite some time. He’d grown tall and strong, graceful and lithe, with a sureness to his step that marked his regal presence. His mother and father had once worried about the fact that he never seemed to gain weight; he was always a very thin child. But that was attributed to the fact that he was so active; his appetite was certainly never lacking. Over the years though, he had fleshed out remarkably. His shoulders grew broad and strong, while his waist and hips remained narrow, and his legs thickened with muscle. And the large ocean-blue eyes that once dominated his narrow face now shone with wisdom, humor, and compassion. Legolas had been an invaluable help to Thranduil and Naniel, looking after his sister while they tended to royal matters. He’d insisted upon it; Hania was *his* responsibility while his parents were occupied, and he wouldn’t hear of anyone else caring for her in his stead.

“I know, adar,” Legolas now said gently.

Thranduil started and came to himself. “Know what?” he asked.

“That you and naneth love your children equally,” his son replied patiently.

“Oh. Good,” the King smiled self-consciously. “You wanted to speak to me, my son?”

Legolas nodded. “I want to be sure that it is quite all right with you if Belorfilad accompanies me to Ilandros. You are certain that you can spare him?”

“Quite certain,” Thranduil answered decisively. “Hil-Gamir is more than capable of filling in for him. I trust him implicitly. Besides,” he smiled, “I think Belorfilad *needs* this visit. He has been apart from his beloved for a very long time. Although he puts up a brave front, he is pining away for Uriong, and I cannot bear to watch it any longer.”

Legolas smiled at this, too. Over the years, Thranduil had discreetly asked Belorfilad to travel to Ilandros from time to time to deliver letters between the two families, and the blonde Captain of his guard had always been grateful to be asked, and happy to comply. But those were only short trips, and he never stayed in Ilandros more than two nights before returning to his duties. Thranduil had urged him on many occasions to take his time, enjoy the delights of Ilandros; his position would still be waiting for him when he returned. But Belorfilad had never availed himself of the King’s offer. Although it devastated him to tear himself away from his dark-haired lover, his devotion to Mirkwood and its royal family wouldn’t allow him to tarry in Ilandros for long.

Now Thranduil *wanted* his Captain to make this trip with Legolas. He had earned it. He’d denied himself the opportunity to visit Uriong for many years, out of dedication to his homeland, and it was telling on him. Aside from that, Thranduil felt most at ease when he knew Legolas traveled with Belorfilad. Although a group of guards would escort him on the long journey to Ilandros, it was the knowledge that his son’s safety was in the hands of the brave Captain that gave the King the greatest comfort. Legolas had been given specific instructions from his father to make sure that, once in Ilandros, Belorfilad stayed put. And the Prince planned to visit his dear friend Isalith for at *least* two months.

Content that his father truly was at peace with the absence of the Captain of his guard from the palace, Legolas left the room, but not before bending to kiss Thranduil’s c ten tenderly. “I will miss you, adar,” he whispered.

Thranduil clasped his son to him tightly, as if afraid to him him go. A wave of melancholy washed over him at the sudden thought that Legolas would be going away more frequently as he grew older and began to take on more responsibilities and more training. The King had always known this in his heart, and he accepted it. He did *not*, however, have to like it.

“You shall be sorely missed too, ancalima elen,” he replied. More than I can say.


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On the day of Legolas’ departure for Ilandros, Thranduil’s thoughts returned to the day that the royal delegation from the eastern kingdom arrived in Mirkwood for the first time. It had been a fascinating and eventful week, and both of the royal families had hated to see it come to an end.

The day that King Tyrion, Queen Anylinde, and Prinsalisalith returned to their home was the same day on which Thranduil and Naniel had learned they were to be parents to a second child. The Mirkwood royal couple had talked it over repeatedly that morning. How could this be? Why now? And what had they done differently?

“You wore the perfume Anylinde gave you last night,” Thranduil offered, but he already knew in his heart that this wasn’t the answer.

“No,” Naniel confirmed, “that was only an aphrodisiac.” She looked quickly into his eyes. “Are you angry with me? I should not have deceived you about it.”

“No wonder the room grew unbearably warm so quickly,” he said archly, as he cocked an eyebrow. “No, my love, I am not angry. You *are* aware that ‘tis not necessary to drug me to make me desire you, are you not?”

She smiled and kissed him softly. “Yes, my lovely Lord,” Naniel replied, “but I am also aware that adding a little spice now and then does no harm whatsoever.”

“Very true,” Thranduil grinned.

The Queen frowned a little then, concentrating once again on the mystery of how she had conceived again, after many years of believing it was never to be. She replayed the evening’s events in her mind; Tyrion and Anylinde’s honoring of the Guards, the feast, dancing to the marvelously seductive Ilandrian music, the wine Anylinde had given them as a gift -- she froze.

“Thranduil,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

“What is it?” he asked in concern.

Naniel gazed at her husband, her face filled with wonder as a small smile played across her lips. “The wine,” she said simply.

“The gift from Anylinde?” he frowned. “How could that be ………” his voice trailed off; he was suddenly not entirely sure of himself.

“Because she is Anylinde!” Naniel laughed with joy, “because she is Ilandrian, and because she is wonderful! She said the wine was something we both need, she all but begged us to take it! She *knew*, my love; somehow, she knew.” Tears shimmered in her eyes as she pressed her hands together and brought them to her lips. “Eru, bless her,” she whispered.

Thranduil bowed his blonde head and gently leaned it against his wife’s. “Keep her and her family safely in the palm of Your hand always, great Eru,” he added his prayer to hers.

Later that morning, Tyrion and Anylinde were greeted by the King and Queen of Mirkwood with an unbridled joy and gratitude that took them both by surprise.

Leaning back within Naniel’s tight embrace, the eastern Queen looked deeply into her friend’s eyes, and smiled. “It has already happened,” she said with certainty.

Naniel nodded. “Wew whw what you did for us, dear friend, and we can never thank you enough.”

Anylinde bowed her head gracefully, and placed a delicate hand over her heart. “It was my honor to do this for you.”

Thranduil, who had just released Tyrion from a powerful and affectionate hug, scooped up Anylinde in his arms, lifting her easily off the floor and swinging her around several times before kissing herek aek and carefully setting her down again.

“Of all the wonderful gifts you have given us already, we will cherish this one the most,” he said solemnly. Then he smiled again, and ushered them all into the dining hall for the morning meal, where they talked of the Ilandros delegation’s journey home, and of the next time they would all meet again.


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The goodbyes between the two kingdoms were difficult and tearful. The Queens stood locked in a long embrace; the Kings also hugged one another tightly before imparting a gentle kiss and embrace to the other’s wife.

Legolas and Isalith stood apart from them a little; both gazed sadly at the ground, unwilling to say the words they knew must be said. After several long moments, Legolas spoke. “Adar said that we could visit each other from time to time.”

Isalith nodded. “Mine said it, also.” He raised his eyes to look at his friend. “It will not be the same, Legolas.”

The Mirkwood Prince refused to lose hope. “I know, but already *we* are not the same as when we met, Isalith. You had no friends, neither did I, but now we have each other. ‘Tis not as if we live at opposite ends of Middle Earth. We live beneath the same sky, look at the same stars; the same sun shines on us both. You are my friend; no amount of distance will ever change that.”

Isalith’s beautiful young face lit up at Legolas’ words. “I had never thought of it like that before. Look at the same stars …” he repeated, musing. A thought occurred to him. “Legolas, do you know the Silima Star?” he asked, referring to the heavenly body known as the Crystal Star because of its nearly transparent brilliance. It was often used by travelers to guide them on their way.

“Of course,” Legolas replied.

“Can you see it from the window of your bedchamber?” his friend asked excitedly.

“Yes.”

“So can I.”

Legolas smiled as realization dawned on him. They made a pact that day that would become a ritual every day that they were apart. Every night, just after evening prayers and before going to bed, they would look upward at the Silima Star and know that the other was doing the same; and in that moment they would be at each other’s side, no matter what. It was enough.

They were able to say farewell to each other now, still sad, but able to bear it because of the oath they’d taken.

At the head of the group of Ilandrian Guards, Belorfilad and Uriong clung to each other destelytely. The raven-haired warrior slid his hands caressingly across the broad back of his lover, as if memorizing every muscle and sinew.

The Mirkwood Captain entwined his hands in the shining black hair that tumbled down Uriong’s back, pulling him even closer.

“I’ve only just found you,” the blonde Guard whispered, “and now I must let you go?”

“It is only for a while, anvanima,” Uriong said soothingly. “Know that no matter how many miles lay between us, I will love no other for as long as I draw breath.”

Belorfilad drew back to look into the golden brown eyes. “As it is with me, my love. Always.” He gazed at the brightly-colored ribbons and cord that once again adorned Uriong’s hair.

“I have been wanting to ask you,” he smiled. “What is the significance of these decorations?”

Uriong smiled in response, pleased that his lover had finally asked. “Each color represents something; the house that each of us is descended from, or the lands that we have visited, for example. Some of them are gifts from those who we are closest to.”

Belorfilad considered for a moment, before looking down at the braided belt that encircled his waist. It was made of many narrow, plaited pieces of silken threads in bark brown and deep woodland green. He removed it and began unbraiding a strand of the green fabric. Uriong raised an eyebrow questioningly. Looking up, Belorfilad saw the puzzlement in his eyes. He laughed softly.

“I am not descended from a great house; I never even knew my grandparents. And I am not well-traveled. The colors of Mirkwood are the only ones that have meaning for me. But I would be honored,” he held up the long braid of dark green material, “if you would wear this also, and remember me.”

Uriong took it from him and looked at it reverently for a moment before clutching it to his chest and leaning forward to urgently capture Belorfilad’s sweet lips in a kiss. “I shall wear it with pride,” he said fervently. After several long kisses, Uriong pulled himself reluctantly away from his love and nimbly swung himself onto his horse’s back. The rest of the Guards had said their farewells to each other, and the delegation was ready to embark.

King Thranduil stood with an arm around Naniel’s shoulder comfortingly, as he held his small son. Legolas’ rump rested in the crook of his arm, and the Prince wrapped his arms around his adar’s neck, laying his head sadly on Thranduil’s shoulder. It was a melancholy day for the palace and many of its residents, but none of them would regret having met the dark, beautiful Elves of Ilandros.

The Mirkwood King drew a deep breath. Today he faced another difficult departure; that of his dear son. Two months would fly quickly by, but for little Hania, it would no doubt drag. He stood and walked to the door of his study resignedly. Even now Legolas would be saddling his horse for the journey.

Best to get this over with.


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cua: dove
ancalima elen: brightest star
anvanima: most beautiful