LotR Au Fic (Mpreg) -- 3 of 4
Apr. 30th, 2009 03:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
la_samtyrSerious, major angst ahead.
*****
Erestor stalks angrily through the halls in search of Legolas' new quarters. Only Elrond's direct request could send him on such an errand, for there are many others who are just as capable of this simple, mundane task. But when Elrond says to him, "Erestor, bring Legolas to me at once," there is no way of refusing.
Erestor has no idea of where to look until one of the elf-maids points timidly toward one of the older sections of the Hall. It is a section that has fallen into disuse and though plans were made for remodeling, they were never carried out. Erestor is not sure why the plans were never finalized, other than it had never been a high priority project in the first place and there were many other matters that were more urgent.
Finally though, Erestor arrives in front of the iron-bound door and knocks. The others might laugh at the idea of such courtesy to the Sindar thrall-prince and mock him for such foolishness but Erestor does not care. There are many ways to get even that do not require physical force and Erestor is a master of all of them.
A few moments pass with no answer and Erestor frowns, knocking slightly louder this time. When there is still no answer, Erestor hesitantly pushes the door open. His eyes are instantly drawn to the still form on the floor and he curses bitterly.
"Damn them." Erestor kneels beside the fallen elf, grimacing at the sight of the grossly swollen abdomen, so at odds with the nearly skeletal form. To his eyes, it looks as if the Peredhel seed has decided to cannibalize its host and is very close to succeeding. Erestor can see the contractions that shake the unconscious frame and he kneels down, gently wrapping the Sinda in a blanket. He rises slowly, taking great care not to jostle the elf in his arms.
Elrond waits impatiently for Erestor to return with Legolas. He has felt uneasy from time to time about the Sindar prince but Imladris is a large realm that takes vast amounts of time and energy to govern. It is only upon hearing Glorfindel's plans for Gîlríon's third begetting day that he realizes just how long it has been since Legolas has been seen by anyone besides the twins and the occasional servant.
Elrond's office door swings open, but he continues to look out the window rather than turning around immediately.
"It's about time you came back, Erestor." Elrond's tone is sharp and annoyed. "Has he given you any trouble?"
"Trouble seems to be this one's kilmessë, Elrond." Erestor's voice is unexpectedly harsh and bitter. "Why don't you see for yourself?"
Elrond turns, only to be faced with the wrapped bundle in Erestor's arms. "Oh Valar, no." Elrond pulls the edge of the blanket from Legolas' white face, noticing the tightly closed eyes and the harsh, labored breathing.
"Give him to me." Elrond takes Legolas from Erestor's arms and cradles him gently, walking quickly to the healing rooms. Erestor follows, knowing that whatever happens, this will be a long anxious night.
Once in the healing rooms, Elrond places Legolas gently on the nearest bed, gasping in shock as he removes the blanket and sees the contractions ripple across the swollen abdomen. He works quickly, feeling despair at how much weaker and frailer the youth appears than he did during his first pregnancy. Fortunately Legolas is only wearing a robe, which makes the examination much easier.
"How long has he been like this?"
"I found him this way in his rooms. He had fallen and I did not try to rouse him."
"I see." Elrond straightens up, sighing. "I can barely sense him, Erestor. Do you know when the twins are expected back?"
"I have no idea, Elrond. They are late but then we already knew that they would be when we received the message from 'Lórien."
"Do you know where Glorfindel is?"
"He is on patrol as well, though it is a local one and he should be back within the hour. As you know, he doesn't like to be away from his son for very long."
"Very well. Leave word that Glorfindel is to come here at once when he returns, no delay. Send a rider to 'Lórien -- the twins must return at once." Elrond sighs again. "I fear it will do little good but we must try to reach them anyway."
"Is there anything else?"
"No." Elrond looks steadily at his chief counselor, a deep sadness in his eyes. "You might as well know the truth now. He is starting to fade. The child is in the breech position and the passage has not opened as it should. I must intervene surgically, although I believe it is too late to be of any real use to either of them."
"This is hard news indeed." Erestor bows his head in genuine sorrow. He has no liking for the Sinda and the very idea of another Sindar/Noldor child is repulsive to him, but his mourning will be no less genuine. Rising quietly, Erestor leaves the room in order to see that the messages are dispatched.
Elrond fills the time waiting for his assistants by retrieving an old mithril case that holds rare surgical instruments crafted by Fëanor. Maglor gifted them to him when he reached his majority, saying that they would be of great use in the future. The instruments are rumored to have an enchantment on them, so that no matter how deep they cut, the patient will feel no pain and the wound will not bleed and will heal nearly instantaneously. Elrond had dismissed the idea of enchanted instruments but as he looks at Legolas lying pale and still, he prays to the Valar that it is fact.
"Legolas? Can you hear me?" There is no response and Elrond opens the case to study the rainbow-colored obsidian knives. He picks one up, marveling anew at the exquisite craftsmanship and the sharpness of the blade's edge. He wonders how much longer he dares wait for his assistants; fortunately they arrive, rushing in. Elrond glares at them but says nothing -- there is no time. Recriminations can come later. Taking a deep breath, Elrond turns to the unconscious form on the bed and watches as the knife slices easily through the layers of muscle, leaving very little blood in its path. Elrond pushes at the open wound in order to discover the source of the problem and peers into the womb.
As expected, there is an elfling inside, turned in an unnatural position. It is obvious to Elrond that it could never have been born in the usual manner. He gently reaches in and removes it, handing it to an assistant and feeling a deep sorrow at the tiny perfect form that lacks only the spark of life. Elrond turns his attention back to Legolas, making certain that a second elfling is not somehow hidden from his view. But there is no other and Elrond slowly removes his hands, noticing how the incision seems to be closing by itself until only a faint reddish mark remains on the deflated abdomen.
*****
Glorfindel hurries to the healing rooms, wondering why Elrond demands his presence. He pauses briefly before the doorway and enters as he catches sight of the Imladris lord.
"What is wrong, Elrond? It is not Gîlríon, is it?" The Elda's voice is thick with worry.
"Legolas." Elrond motions toward a curtained area. "He is in a bad way, mellon. It would be a good idea to bring your son to see him one last time."
"Surely he cannot be that bad. He has always been very resilient." Glorfindel's tone is skeptical, though he does not doubt Elrond.
"I sent Erestor to bring him for an interview since I hadn't seen him for quite some time. Erestor found him unconscious in his rooms and brought him to me. He has just been delivered of a stillborn child -- a boy. I had to cut it out of him."
Elrond pushes the curtain aside and watches as Glorfindel flinches at the sight of Legolas laying pale and still; the light blanket covering him is barely moving with each slow breath. Elrond does not know why Glorfindel put the Sindar youth aside but it does not matter now. Nothing more can be done but Elrond hopes to make Legolas' remaining time as comfortable as possible.
I will bring Gîl at once." Glorfindel turns to leave, then hesitates. "Will he know -- will he even be aware of our son?"
"Yes, I believe he will know. Even if he does not regain consciousness, he will still know."
Glorfindel nods and leaves. Elrond watches him go and turns to place warmed stones against Legolas' thin frame. It can do no harm and he hopes it will bring some comfort. Then Elrond takes a flask of miruvor and lets it trickle into the youth's mouth, rubbing his throat to make sure he swallows and doesn't choke. It is risky but Elrond hopes that he will be able to rouse enough to see Gîl when he arrives. Several minutes later, Elrond sees Legolas open his eyes slightly, the thin hand moving to touch his stomach. His blue eyes widen briefly in panic as Elrond takes his hand, patting it gently.
"Rest, Legolas. The child was stillborn, a son. I am so very sorry, ernil."
Legolas' blue eyes fill with tears and he makes a small, distressed sound in his throat.
"Here, drink this." Elrond presses the flask of miruvor to the blond elf's lips once more and Legolas manages to swallow a small amount before closing his eyes again. "You are not at fault, Legolas. You did nothing wrong."
But even as Elrond speaks the words, he sees that Legolas does not believe him and for some reason, this knowledge hurts Elrond more than he expects. He can see that even this slight effort has tired Legolas greatly and he hopes that Glorfindel will hurry back with Gîl.
"Ada! Ada!" There is the busy sound of running feet and Gîlríon runs past Elrond to climb onto the bed, hugging Legolas' neck until the Sindar prince gasps slightly and opens his eyes in shock.
"Ion nin." Legolas' voice is barely a whisper and he stares at his son in disbelief. Surely this must be his imagination at work but the solid warmth and soft breath against his neck is very persuasive. Legolas works his hand free to touch the shining yellow curls. "Gîlríon."
"Ada, I have missed you so terribly much. Where have you been, ada? It must have been a long, long, long way away! Were you at the Grey Havens? Ada, are you well? You look tired. Did you know that it will be my third begetting day soon? Will you be here? Atto says I may have anything I wish for my begetting day, anything at all but I don't need *anything now that you are here! I love you, ada."
Gîlríon snuggles even more tightly against Legolas' neck and thus misses the look of consternation that crosses the faces of the Imladris elves. Legolas, however, does not miss the worried glances shared by Elrond and Glorfindel.
"I love you too, my star." Legolas manages to whisper in his son's ear. "I will be glad to share your begetting day with you."
Legolas understands what their expressions imply, for even now he can feel himself following his stillborn son but Gîlríon's begetting day is less than a fortnight away and Legolas knows he will last long enough for that.
"Come, Gîl." Glorfindel steps forward to take the elfling from the bed. "Your ada needs his rest."
"You won't leave again will you, ada?"
"I will see you soon, ion nin." Legolas kisses Gîl's forehead, effectively avoiding a direct answer. "Go with your atto now."
"Yes, ada."
Legolas watches as the golden haired elfling leaves the room in his sire's arms, smiling and waving. He promptly closes his eyes again once he can no longer hear their footsteps, his breath sounding harsh and labored in the sudden quiet.
"I will see that you have new rooms, Legolas," Elrond begins, only to have the young Sindar prince open his blue eyes in an angry glare.
"No." Legolas manages to gasp out. "Enough... cruelty."
Elrond watches in dismay as Legolas fights for enough breath to continue.
"I will stay here so my son does not have false hope. Now leave."
"Very well, ernil. As you wish." Elrond walks over to pick up the small, still bundle and turns to leave.
"Wait." Legolas' face burns with the same fierce determination. "Give him to me."
"I do not think it wise..."
"I wish to say goodbye to him." There is a slight pause before Legolas continues, "Or is it *her*?"
"Your son, ernil." Elrond carefully places Legolas' second-born child in his arms and quietly leaves Legolas to his grief.
Legolas' eyes fill with tears, which drip slowly onto the soft blanket as he examines the delicate form. All is in its proper place and in perfect miniature, the silky hair is the deep grey of mithril and for a brief moment he wonders if the closed eyes would have been silver-grey or blue. Legolas remembers that his grandsire Oropher and Celeborn were kinsmen, and he wonders briefly if the cause of death is due to a degree of consanguinity. Regardless, the blood should not have been dangerously close. Legolas hums quietly, an old Silvan lullaby remembered from his own long-ago days as an elfling. In a few hours he will have to give the little body up even though he knows this son is already playing in Mandos' great hall or perhaps Estë’s garden.
*****
Hours later, the sound of hoof beats echo in the courtyard, announcing the twins' arrival and within moments, they race into the hall. Elrond is at the entrance to greet them, embracing them gently as he does so.
“Ada, Nana Gala said we must hurry home...” “...or we would be too late.”
“What has happened, ada?” they chorus, their silver-grey eyes pale with worry.
“Legolas has been delivered of a son, stillborn.”
The twins protested, “No, no.” “It cannot be true.”
“I am so sorry, my sons.”
“And Legolas?” “Is he...?”
“The Sindar prince lives yet, but he is seriously ill. I have little hope for him.”
“May we see him, ada?” Again the question is spoken as one. “Please?”
“Yes, but do not stay long. He is quite weak.”
The twins hurry off to the healing wing. Elrond quietly follows, knowing his presence will be needed soon enough.
“Legolas? Are you awake?”
Legolas ignores the voice of one of his masters. He is too tired to try and guess which twin it might be and in any case, the other one is here as well. He continues to croon to the still form.
“Legolas? May we see him? May we see our son?”
“Very well.” Legolas kisses the still form one last time as the twin gently takes it from his arms. He can smell the faint tinge of horse sweat that rises from their clothes; it reminds him of days long past, when he was still accepted by his own ada, even though he was mostly ignored by the royal court. The days when he guarded the horses of Mirkwood were the best days he had ever known in his short life.
“Ai, he is beautiful, Legolas. So perfect...” The twin's voice fades to a sob, only to be taken up by his brother. “Yes, Legolas. We are so sorry we did not know... why did you not tell us?”
“I did not know myself before you left. Had I known, I would certainly have told you.” Legolas knows there is a bitter tone in his voice but he no longer cares. He cannot be hurt anymore, not by anyone. “It does not matter now.”
“We are sorry, Legolas.” Soft hands brush at his face and hair but Legolas has perfected his mask over the last few months and does not flinch at their touch. “So very sorry, ernil.”
The twins begin keening an ancient lament and Legolas joins in. Their beautiful voices are terrible as their grief rises to be heard by all in Imladris, who quietly mourn with them. Later, the guards will say that Elbereth veiled her eyes in sympathy and their grandsire, Eärendil, dimmed the light of Vingilot as they sang.
Hours later, the twins leave the healing room with their only child. As before, they turn to each other in their grief, forgetting all others while Legolas remains alone, with empty arms and an emptier heart.
*****
While Elrond takes great care to see that he rests after his ordeal, Legolas sees that he is no longer of any value to Imladris, for neither Elladan nor Elrohir return to visit him. Elrond checks on him twice daily but speaks very little to the Sinda. In truth, Elrond's vast diplomatic skills fail him now. Legolas has no way of knowing how valuable he has become to the hidden realm.
He is so frail that Elrond makes sure not tell him about the message sent to Thranduil of Legolas' illness, and that the Woodland king received the messenger with the barest possible courtesy, sending the unlucky ellon back almost immediately with a message of his own -- that Mirkwood is not to be troubled by gossip of Imladris' royal concubines and their bastards.
*****
“When will ada come to live with us again, atto? I have missed ada so much, and he is home again. I want to paint him a special picture, atto. Will you help me find my paints, atto?”
In Glorfindel's rooms, Gîl was asking his sire the same questions he had been asking for the last week, ever since he had learned of Legolas' presence in the healing rooms, and for once Glorfindel found himself very nearly angry with his son. //The child has no way of knowing,// Glorfindel thought. //He is much too young to remember. Isn't he?//
“I will be glad to have ada home, atto. Are we going to have more rooms? I am big, you know. I do not need to be in the nursery any longer. Nurse says that a nursery should never be empty for very long; does that mean I will have a baby brother soon? Do you think I could have twin brothers, atto? I would like to have twin brothers. I get lonesome all by myself. I think twins are fun; I love Uncle Elladan and Uncle Elrohir, they always have time to play with me.”
At this Glorfindel looked distinctly uneasy. //He cannot know, he cannot. No one would dare think of saying anything to him...// Gîlríon misread his sire's strange expression, for he continued. “Of course, I would like a baby sister as well. Girls are fun too. I would watch out for her and protect her when she grew up.”
“Let's find your paints, ion nin. I am sure that ada would love to have a picture from you.” Glorfindel was eager to distract Gîlríon from this particular line of questioning. With any luck, Gîl would soon forget. But for once, Glorfindel had underestimated his own son: he failed to realize the deep bond between Gîlríon and Legolas -- Gîlríon might have been too young to do little more than cry on the day Legolas left, but he had never, ever forgotten.
Glorfindel rises from the table to look for the paints and Gîlríon follows his atto happily, certain as only a young child can be, that everything will work out just the way he wants it.
That night, while Gîlríon sleeps in the other room, his atto sits beside the fire and thinks of the past. He remembers the first night they spent without Legolas. Glorfindel had returned to his rooms, only to discover that Gîlríon was wet, hungry and terrified at being abandoned. Just why Gîlríon's screams of “Ada! Ada!” were ignored was never quite resolved but Glorfindel's angry bellows soon roused the entire house. One of the younger maids was quickly pressed into changing and bathing the hysterical elfling, but it made no difference. Gîlríon cried all night and for days afterwards had been inconsolable, despite the return of the nurse to care for him. Glorfindel had never realized just how much Legolas actually *did until he was no longer there. But he was not about to admit he had made a mistake, and he would never forgive Legolas' brief show of defiance -- though he did wonder if a whipping might not have been a better punishment. But Glorfindel seldom went back on a decision, for it showed weakness, not strength, and only served to undermine his authority.
Sighing, Glorfindel quietly sips his wine. Gîlríon is a sweet child who is remarkably unspoiled, considering that he is an unofficial prince of Imladris. Gîlríon has only to look woebegone, with a hint of tears in the bright blue eyes and everyone rushes to make him smile once more. Elrond dotes on him as if Gîl were his own grandchild, and the twins have named themselves as honorary uncles. No, Gîlríon has never lacked for attention or companionship, for even the redoubtable Galadhrim of Lórien have fallen to his charm. Haldir, Orophin and Rúmil – all find a reason to stop and speak with the child, often slipping him a sweet or two.
*****
For the next week, Legolas is visited daily by Gîlríon, who takes up residence on Legolas' bed and is clearly intent on filling his ada in on every single detail of his life that Legolas missed while he was "the ambassador to Far Harad." Legolas smiles, hearing every word and more than content to watch his growing son.
"That was how I learned Lord Elrond is allergic to cats," Gîlríon concluded. "Ada? Are you hungry? Would you like me to ask Cook for something else?"
"I am fine, ion. I am still tired and I am never very hungry."
"Are you sure, ada?" Gîlríon looks worriedly at him, his forehead wrinkled in unmistakable mimicry of his sire.
"I am certain of it." Legolas deigns to sip at the glass of miruvor, which serves to reassure the elfling slightly.
"Okay..." Gîlríon looks a bit dubious but he is soon busily relating yet another story. "… and that was when I learned that Lindir and Gildor don't wear clothing at night when they wrestle. It doesn't seem to bother them though, and they seem really happy and they sleep really sound afterwards, sometimes they even sleep with their eyes closed. I don't know why they want sleep though. When I wrestle, *I* don't feel like sleeping -- I want to play some more. Ada? Why are you laughing? Ada?"
"No matter, ion nin. When you are older, you will understand these matters."
"That's what everyone always tells me." Gîlríon pouts for a moment and then smiles as his ada kisses his forehead. “I must go and eat now, ada. Do you wish me to bring you anything?”
“No, thank you Gîl.” Legolas tries to smooth the tousled curls into a semblance of order but his ion is already sliding off the bed and hurrying out the door. Legolas smiles tiredly as he watches Gîlríon and settles back on the pillows, feeling completely exhausted.
*****
Erestor sits near Legolas, keeping a careful eye on the young Sinda as he reviews the paperwork that seems to follow him through the Last Homely House.
“I am surprised you requested my attendance, ernil. I thought you would prefer someone friendlier to stay with you.”
“You are very restful, my lord.”
Erestor's eyebrows rise, unconsciously mimicking Elrond's at that moment because Erestor does not believe that anyone has ever called him 'restful' before. Legolas seems to sense that, for he continues.
“The others exhaust me. The grief, the guilt... it is too much -- it washes off them and makes me feel that I am about to drown. You make no such demands on me. It is a great kindness.”
Erestor says nothing, for his heart is filled with shame at his callous attitude toward the Sindar youth as Legolas closes his eyes once more, feigning sleep.
*****
It is a few days later when Erestor notices that Legolas looks at him with an appraising gaze. It is most unusual for the youth to do such a thing and it piques the dark elf's curiosity.
“Do you have a question, pen neth?” He asks, setting down his quill.
“I was wondering...” Legolas drops his gaze and begins to smooth the heavy quilt. “May I ask you a question, my lord?”
“Of course you may. What do you wish to know?”
“I was wondering if you knew how much a bag of sweets might cost. You see, I have no present for Gîl's begetting day.”
“A bag of sweets would cost five coppers, I believe. Would you like me to purchase one for you?”
“Five coppers -- as much as that.” Legolas murmurs in dismay. “I am sorry, my lord but I do not have that much.”
“I am certain that there are some nice ones to be had for less than five, ernil. Whatever you do have will be sufficient.”
“I do not even have one copper.” Legolas replies, hanging his head in shame.
Erestor's mouth opens in shock. For any Imladrian elf to have no coinage at all is unheard of -- and then he remembers Legolas' circumstances. But before he can speak, Legolas continues.
“I brought nothing with me when I came, only Lainiell and I am sure that she became Lord Glorfindel's property when he deigned to take me in. I was so ill with Gîlríon, though -- I am sure I cost him much more than she is worth. And my new masters -- I must have cost them even more than I did with Lord Glorfindel. So you see, I really have nothing for I *am nothing. Unless...” Legolas pauses and eyes the dark elf speculatively.
“Unless what?” Erestor manages to croak out.
“You may use me in anyway you wish, for three coppers. I am told by many that I am very pleasing, even though I am not looking my best right now. But I am sure I can bring you pleasure; I am quite skilled.” Legolas misreads Erestor's stunned expression, for he hastily amends his sales pitch. “Or, you can beat me for the same amount for as long as you like and using whatever you wish. You may even draw blood if it pleases you. I can take it; I can endure much and I will heal. I will not scream and I will tell no-one. Lord Elrond no longer comes every day, so I am sure that any bruises will fade before he notices.”
When this fails to bring a response, Legolas decides to amend his offer yet again. “If you do not want me, I am sure the guards would enjoy a chance to use me in the same manner the Mirkwood king has used their friends. If you will take me to them, they can use me in anyway they desire for one night. As many of them as they wish, to do as they please -- just as long as I am able to attend Gîl's party. I will even return so they may finish what they start. I will only charge them six coppers, and you may have three for your trouble.”
Erestor stares openly at Legolas, completely aghast at the propositions and feels a belated sense of outrage begin to rise within him. Mistaking the dark elf's expression, Legolas drops his head in dismay at the perceived refusal.
“I beg your forgiveness, my lord. I am sorry for speaking so boldly to you. I beg that you punish me in anyway you see fit for such disrespect.”
“I... I will think on what you have said, ernil. I must go now, I am late for a meeting.” Erestor quickly grabs a variety of papers at random and hurries out the door, making sure to close it tightly behind him. Erestor walks down the hallway toward a secluded nook, where he buries his head in his hands and weeps.
*****
Elrond and Glorfindel were idly chatting in Elrond's conference room, waiting for Erestor's arrival, so they could go over the recent patrol reports.
“The weather promises to be fine for Gîlríon's party,” Elrond had just finished saying. “I suppose you have a special surprise planned, do you not? What is it to be this year? An oliphaunt?”
“Not yet, Elrond.” Glorfindel laughed as he sipped at his coffee. “I was thinking of a sword.”
Just then Erestor stalked in, his dark eyes icy with barely controlled rage.
“My lords.” Erestor spoke curtly to them as he placed a parchment on the desk. “Lord Elrond, I wish to begin training my replacement at once.”
“Your replacement? But why?” Elrond had not expected anything to happen outside of the normal, everyday routine. “What is this? Erestor, tell me what has happened.”
“I intend to sail within the year. I will no longer be able to fulfill my duties as your advisor.”
“I think you owe Lord Elrond more of an explanation,” snapped Glorfindel as he studied the dark-haired ellon.
“I owe you nothing and I am giving Lord Elrond ample notice.” Erestor snapped back at the golden elf. “Now, if we may get down to business, there is much to be done.”
After an unusually tense meeting that was much shorter than expected, Glorfindel left to supervise a new group of young recruits. Erestor rose to leave as well, but Elrond grasped him by the arm.
“I would have you stay.” Elrond spoke quietly, even as Erestor pulled his arm free from the stifling grasp. “That was not a request, Erestor.”
“Very well.” Erestor seated himself, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what is wrong.” Elrond studied his chief advisor closely. “I assume it has something to do with the Sindar prince?”
“Yes.” Erestor replied grudgingly.
“Continue.” Elrond looked at him in exasperation. “I do not intend to drag it out of you word by word. Speak plainly, Erestor.”
“The prince is very distraught since he has nothing to give his son for a begetting day gift.”
“Is that all? You make a fuss out of nothing, cousin.”
“Would you like to know how he intends to buy something, Lord Elrond?”
“Indeed, I would be most interested in learning this.”
“He offered to let me use him in any way I might wish, so he could earn three coppers to buy a bag of sweets for his son.” Erestor's voice was soft and laced with pain. “When I did not respond right away, he said he would make the same offer to the guards for six coppers, and I could have three if I would deliver him there and back. He only asked that he be left able to attend his son's party, then he swore to return so they would get their full value.”
“Sweet Valar.” Elrond dropped his head to his hands.
“I have never before been ashamed to be an elf, Elrond. Yet now I wish that I were a Man, or a Dwarf, for I would feel less shame.”
*****
Erestor walks slowly back to the healing wing, dreading his next meeting with the young Sinda. The youth will be waiting for an answer and for once, he has no idea what to say. He knows he will not accept either of the offers, nor will he convey the third offer to the guards.
As he enters the room, he notices that Gîlríon is there already and that both are quietly napping in the sunlight. //They make a pretty picture//, he thinks. //So much alike, yet so very different.// Erestor backs out of the doorway and retreats down the hallway to the small nook once more. A few minutes later, he watches as Gîlríon hurries away from the room toward the main kitchen.
“Good afternoon, pen neth. I see you have had a visitor.”
“Yes, I did. He is such a good boy.” Legolas' thin face is flushed with pleasure. “Did you want something, my lord?”
“Well, yes.” Erestor clears his throat nervously. “I wish to speak to you about your offer.”
“Oh, I see.” Legolas' face changes at once, the calm cool mask firmly in place. “How may I serve you, my lord?”
“You misunderstand me, ernil. I have no use for your body. I have no such appetites.”
“I see. You wish to watch while another takes your place. That is acceptable as well.”
“No!” At his sharp tone, Legolas cringes back against the bed. “I apologize, ernil. I have given you the wrong impression and I apologize.” Erestor motioned to a nearby chair. “May I be seated?”
“Of course.” Legolas belatedly realizes his poor manners as Erestor seats himself. “I apologize for keeping you standing, my lord.”
“As you know, ernil, I am a scholar, first and foremost. Yet I find that the library of Imladris is lacking in many things regarding your people. So I will make you a counter-offer. I will give you a copper for each story or song you tell me. Is that acceptable?”
“But I know very little, my lord. I have sung our children's songs and told a few stories to Gil, but that cannot possibly be of any value to you.”
“It is exactly what I wish to know, pen neth, for how better to understand others than to know what and how they are taught from their childhood?”
“Really?” Legolas looks at him in bewilderment. “I never thought it was of any value to anyone.”
“Will you accept my offer then?”
“I would be pleased to help you in anyway, but...”
“Then it is settled. A copper for each song or story you tell.” Erestor extends his hand to Legolas, intending to shake hands with the Sindar prince. But Legolas merely stares blankly at the hand before leaning forward to kiss the small signet ring Erestor has worn since his own long-ago majority.
“Very well, my lord. It shall be as you wish.”
Once again, Erestor feels a deep pain in his chest and struggles to compose himself. He hears soft footsteps and turns to see Melpomaen in the doorway. The young scribe is his top assistant and well-qualified to take over more of his duties. He is also one of the few elves in Imladris who seems to hold no ill-will toward Legolas. The elf looks steadily at him and holds out a large folder.
“You have another meeting, advisor. I believe you will need this.”
“Thank you, Melpomaen.” Erestor has seldom been so relieved to have an interruption. “Please excuse me, ernil. I will be back later on.”
“Of course, my lord.” Legolas inclines his head as he waits for them to leave. When he is alone once more, he turns to look out the window. He smiles to himself as he catches sight of Gîl playing with a ball, then thinks over his conversation with Erestor. The chief advisor is not one to play tricks; indeed, from what Legolas had heard, he has no sense of humor. His offer was sincere, even if it does seem absurd to Legolas. Imagine, thinking that children's stories and songs are valuable! Why, his ada and brothers would laugh themselves silly at the very idea. But the offer was made and Legolas will honor it.
*****
The day of Gîlríon's third begetting is bright and sunny. Legolas is in attendance as well, although he is confined to a couch, supported by pillows and covered with a thin blanket. The party is small, with few elflings since Imladris does not appear to lend itself to encouraging a high birth rate and Legolas hopes that when he comes of age, Gîlríon will find a loving bond-mate.
Though Gîlríon is clearly enjoying himself with all of the guests, food, games and presents, he is keeping a close eye on his ada. He shows each present to his ada, and all are duly admired and exclaimed over. Gîlríon personally brings a large chunk of cake to him as well, showing remarkable skill in balancing the delicate china while avoiding the gathered assortment of housecats and hounds that lurk nearby, ever hopeful of a dropped plate.
“This has been the best begetting day ever, ada. I am so glad you are here.”
“I am glad too, ion nin.”
Gîlríon yawns suddenly and curls up at his ada's side, idly fingering the carved horse that is Legolas' gift to him.
“Are you tired, my Gîl?”
“No, ada. I am just very full now.”
Legolas smiles and smooths the tangled curls, unsurprised when his son tosses his head impatiently. His íon is so like his sire that Legolas can see little sign of himself in the elfling. Perhaps that is a good thing, that it is better that his ion does not know his Sindar heritage. It has brought Legolas nothing but pain and grief, and he would spare Gîlríon that.
“Will you be here tomorrow, ada?”
“Yes, ion nin. I will.”
“And the day after that?”
“We shall see, ion nin.”
A shadow falls over them and as Gîlríon squeals “Atto!”, Legolas looks down. He has no wish to be subjected to Glorfindel's cool, appraising gaze.
“Come, Gîlríon. It is time for your supper.”
“But I am not hungry, atto.”
“Very well. You may take your gifts to your room, and then we will have a light supper.”
“Yes, atto.” Gîlríon places a soft kiss on his ada's forehead. “I will you see you later, ada.”
“Yes, my Gîl. Run along now.”
Glorfindel and Legolas watch their ion run toward the house, still tightly clutching the carved horse.
“How are you, Legolas? Tell me the truth now.”
“I am well enough, my lord. You need not worry yourself.”
“You are Gîlríon's ada, so I will always be concerned about you.”
“As I said, there is no need, my lord.”
“Legolas...” Glorfindel hesitates, feeling oddly uncertain as he looks down at the thin, frail elf and thinks perhaps he is seeing the real Legolas for the first time. Despite everything, the elf lord has a deep affection for the young Sindar prince but he no longer feels he has any rights to him. He should have married the youth upon his arrival in Imladris with the news he carried Glorfindel's heir, begging for sanctuary from his father's wrath and stripping himself of all dignity in order to assure the survival of their child. Legolas asked for so little and he has been given even less. “I will speak to you later, ernil, when you are more rested.”
“As you wish, my lord. I await your earliest convenience.” Legolas closes his eyes so that he will not see Glorfindel leave, but he still hears the footsteps fading into the distance. Nothing ever changes, he thinks wearily.
*****
Glorfindel enters Elrond's office, knowing that he is expected. Elrond looks up and puts several papers to one side.
“I know why you are here, mellon.”
“Then you know that I intend to marry Legolas, and make him my husband according to our law.”
“You have waited this long and yet done nothing, Glorfindel. Why this sudden concern now?”
Glorfindel looks uneasy at Elrond's criticism.
“I have been a fool, Elrond. I should have married him at once, instead of waiting so long.” The blond Elda sighs unhappily. “I should never have put him aside.”
“No, you should not have done that. You should have done better – much better – by him.”
“I can make it up to him though. I will marry him, and we will have the life that should have been ours from the beginning. Gîlríon will be happy, too.”
“But will Legolas be happy?” Elrond's sharp, sad gaze makes Glorfindel feel nervous and uncertain. “He would do anything if he thought it would please Gîlríon – and perhaps you. But happiness? No, I do not think that Legolas can ever be happy.”
“No. I refuse to believe that.” Glorfindel shakes his head in dismay. “We will be a real family, and we will be happy. All of us.”
“Think for a moment. His father rejected him and treated him as if he were less than a Man. Then you came along and raped him, leaving him alone and terrified. When he was forced to acknowledge what had happened, his father threatened him with death if he stayed, so he ran away to the only place he could think of that might show him mercy, even if he were an enemy. He came here and nearly died in the attempt. And what happens on his arrival? He is taken prisoner and treated as if he were little better than a spy. When he was brought before us, we laughed at him and called him liar, deceiver -- and made him realize that only the babe he carried was of any value and that if anything should happen to it before birth, he would be given to the soldiers for their private whore.”
Elrond pauses while Glorfindel hangs his head in shame, for Elrond speaks the truth and he knows it. “Then, after Gîlríon was born -- you do remember how things went during his birthing, do you not -- Legolas was near exhaustion, too tired and scared to refuse anything you might ask, yet you continued to use him though he had scarcely healed.”
“You did not say anything of this to me before.” Glorfindel is hurt that Elrond seems to blame him for everything and feels a sudden anger toward his longtime friend. “Why speak of it now, and not then?”
“I hold more than my share of responsibility, believe me.” Elrond looks out the window, refusing to meet his seneschal's gaze. “I should have told you to leave him alone, even before he gave birth. He was in no shape for your games and I knew it. But I said nothing, because he was only a Sinda and it pleased me to know that one of Thranduil's people suffered as our people have suffered at his hands. It is one of the worst mistakes I have ever made, for it was deliberately made -- and I will regret it all my days.”
*****
The next day, Gîlríon is up bright and early to visit his ada once more. His quiet entrance is unnoticed by an aide, who leaves a breakfast tray beside his ada's bed. For the first time, he sees how pale and weak his ada is. There is nothing wrong with Legolas' hearing though and he turns to smile at his son.
“Good morning ada.” Gîlríon climbs up on the bed and settles easily beside his ada, taking extra care not to be too rough in his movements and gently kisses his ada's cheek.
“Good morning, Gîl.” Legolas returns Gîlríon's kiss and manages a smile. “Did you enjoy your party and all of your presents?”
“Yes I did, ada. But you are still the best present of all.”
“Thank you, ion nin.”
Gîlríon chatters a few moments more about his plans for the day and then hurries off, promising to be back after breakfast. Glorfindel waits until Gîlríon leaves and then enters the room.
“Legolas. How are you today?” Glorfindel mentally berates himself for such inanities. “Are you well?”
“I am fine, my lord.” Legolas peers up cautiously at the Gondolin lord, wondering why he is being questioned. Surely Elrond has told him that he is not up to any sort of strenuous activity and then he realizes that the older elf must be here to tell him about his new master. “I am sorry I am too weak to greet you properly. I beg your forgiveness, my lord.”
“You need not apologize. Look at me, ernil.” Glorfindel speaks more sharply than he intends, for he still feels tremendous guilt over his treatment of the Sindar youth. It was a mistake to send him away, to turn him over to Elladan and Elrohir. He remembers his discussion with Elrond about marrying Legolas. While Elrond did not disapprove of the nuptials, nor had he seemed happy about Glorfindel's plan either. “As soon as you are fully recovered, I will come for you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Legolas knows that this can only mean that Glorfindel will be giving him to someone else. He knows that in his master's eyes, he is forever tainted. Once, Legolas' only fear was of being sent away; then he smiles in his bitterness. He knows that he will never leave Imladris again.
Glorfindel mistakes Legolas' expression for pleased surprise at their coming reunion and he is confident that their lives will soon be restored to the family they had before, but this time it will be better.
TBC...
*****
Erestor stalks angrily through the halls in search of Legolas' new quarters. Only Elrond's direct request could send him on such an errand, for there are many others who are just as capable of this simple, mundane task. But when Elrond says to him, "Erestor, bring Legolas to me at once," there is no way of refusing.
Erestor has no idea of where to look until one of the elf-maids points timidly toward one of the older sections of the Hall. It is a section that has fallen into disuse and though plans were made for remodeling, they were never carried out. Erestor is not sure why the plans were never finalized, other than it had never been a high priority project in the first place and there were many other matters that were more urgent.
Finally though, Erestor arrives in front of the iron-bound door and knocks. The others might laugh at the idea of such courtesy to the Sindar thrall-prince and mock him for such foolishness but Erestor does not care. There are many ways to get even that do not require physical force and Erestor is a master of all of them.
A few moments pass with no answer and Erestor frowns, knocking slightly louder this time. When there is still no answer, Erestor hesitantly pushes the door open. His eyes are instantly drawn to the still form on the floor and he curses bitterly.
"Damn them." Erestor kneels beside the fallen elf, grimacing at the sight of the grossly swollen abdomen, so at odds with the nearly skeletal form. To his eyes, it looks as if the Peredhel seed has decided to cannibalize its host and is very close to succeeding. Erestor can see the contractions that shake the unconscious frame and he kneels down, gently wrapping the Sinda in a blanket. He rises slowly, taking great care not to jostle the elf in his arms.
Elrond waits impatiently for Erestor to return with Legolas. He has felt uneasy from time to time about the Sindar prince but Imladris is a large realm that takes vast amounts of time and energy to govern. It is only upon hearing Glorfindel's plans for Gîlríon's third begetting day that he realizes just how long it has been since Legolas has been seen by anyone besides the twins and the occasional servant.
Elrond's office door swings open, but he continues to look out the window rather than turning around immediately.
"It's about time you came back, Erestor." Elrond's tone is sharp and annoyed. "Has he given you any trouble?"
"Trouble seems to be this one's kilmessë, Elrond." Erestor's voice is unexpectedly harsh and bitter. "Why don't you see for yourself?"
Elrond turns, only to be faced with the wrapped bundle in Erestor's arms. "Oh Valar, no." Elrond pulls the edge of the blanket from Legolas' white face, noticing the tightly closed eyes and the harsh, labored breathing.
"Give him to me." Elrond takes Legolas from Erestor's arms and cradles him gently, walking quickly to the healing rooms. Erestor follows, knowing that whatever happens, this will be a long anxious night.
Once in the healing rooms, Elrond places Legolas gently on the nearest bed, gasping in shock as he removes the blanket and sees the contractions ripple across the swollen abdomen. He works quickly, feeling despair at how much weaker and frailer the youth appears than he did during his first pregnancy. Fortunately Legolas is only wearing a robe, which makes the examination much easier.
"How long has he been like this?"
"I found him this way in his rooms. He had fallen and I did not try to rouse him."
"I see." Elrond straightens up, sighing. "I can barely sense him, Erestor. Do you know when the twins are expected back?"
"I have no idea, Elrond. They are late but then we already knew that they would be when we received the message from 'Lórien."
"Do you know where Glorfindel is?"
"He is on patrol as well, though it is a local one and he should be back within the hour. As you know, he doesn't like to be away from his son for very long."
"Very well. Leave word that Glorfindel is to come here at once when he returns, no delay. Send a rider to 'Lórien -- the twins must return at once." Elrond sighs again. "I fear it will do little good but we must try to reach them anyway."
"Is there anything else?"
"No." Elrond looks steadily at his chief counselor, a deep sadness in his eyes. "You might as well know the truth now. He is starting to fade. The child is in the breech position and the passage has not opened as it should. I must intervene surgically, although I believe it is too late to be of any real use to either of them."
"This is hard news indeed." Erestor bows his head in genuine sorrow. He has no liking for the Sinda and the very idea of another Sindar/Noldor child is repulsive to him, but his mourning will be no less genuine. Rising quietly, Erestor leaves the room in order to see that the messages are dispatched.
Elrond fills the time waiting for his assistants by retrieving an old mithril case that holds rare surgical instruments crafted by Fëanor. Maglor gifted them to him when he reached his majority, saying that they would be of great use in the future. The instruments are rumored to have an enchantment on them, so that no matter how deep they cut, the patient will feel no pain and the wound will not bleed and will heal nearly instantaneously. Elrond had dismissed the idea of enchanted instruments but as he looks at Legolas lying pale and still, he prays to the Valar that it is fact.
"Legolas? Can you hear me?" There is no response and Elrond opens the case to study the rainbow-colored obsidian knives. He picks one up, marveling anew at the exquisite craftsmanship and the sharpness of the blade's edge. He wonders how much longer he dares wait for his assistants; fortunately they arrive, rushing in. Elrond glares at them but says nothing -- there is no time. Recriminations can come later. Taking a deep breath, Elrond turns to the unconscious form on the bed and watches as the knife slices easily through the layers of muscle, leaving very little blood in its path. Elrond pushes at the open wound in order to discover the source of the problem and peers into the womb.
As expected, there is an elfling inside, turned in an unnatural position. It is obvious to Elrond that it could never have been born in the usual manner. He gently reaches in and removes it, handing it to an assistant and feeling a deep sorrow at the tiny perfect form that lacks only the spark of life. Elrond turns his attention back to Legolas, making certain that a second elfling is not somehow hidden from his view. But there is no other and Elrond slowly removes his hands, noticing how the incision seems to be closing by itself until only a faint reddish mark remains on the deflated abdomen.
*****
Glorfindel hurries to the healing rooms, wondering why Elrond demands his presence. He pauses briefly before the doorway and enters as he catches sight of the Imladris lord.
"What is wrong, Elrond? It is not Gîlríon, is it?" The Elda's voice is thick with worry.
"Legolas." Elrond motions toward a curtained area. "He is in a bad way, mellon. It would be a good idea to bring your son to see him one last time."
"Surely he cannot be that bad. He has always been very resilient." Glorfindel's tone is skeptical, though he does not doubt Elrond.
"I sent Erestor to bring him for an interview since I hadn't seen him for quite some time. Erestor found him unconscious in his rooms and brought him to me. He has just been delivered of a stillborn child -- a boy. I had to cut it out of him."
Elrond pushes the curtain aside and watches as Glorfindel flinches at the sight of Legolas laying pale and still; the light blanket covering him is barely moving with each slow breath. Elrond does not know why Glorfindel put the Sindar youth aside but it does not matter now. Nothing more can be done but Elrond hopes to make Legolas' remaining time as comfortable as possible.
I will bring Gîl at once." Glorfindel turns to leave, then hesitates. "Will he know -- will he even be aware of our son?"
"Yes, I believe he will know. Even if he does not regain consciousness, he will still know."
Glorfindel nods and leaves. Elrond watches him go and turns to place warmed stones against Legolas' thin frame. It can do no harm and he hopes it will bring some comfort. Then Elrond takes a flask of miruvor and lets it trickle into the youth's mouth, rubbing his throat to make sure he swallows and doesn't choke. It is risky but Elrond hopes that he will be able to rouse enough to see Gîl when he arrives. Several minutes later, Elrond sees Legolas open his eyes slightly, the thin hand moving to touch his stomach. His blue eyes widen briefly in panic as Elrond takes his hand, patting it gently.
"Rest, Legolas. The child was stillborn, a son. I am so very sorry, ernil."
Legolas' blue eyes fill with tears and he makes a small, distressed sound in his throat.
"Here, drink this." Elrond presses the flask of miruvor to the blond elf's lips once more and Legolas manages to swallow a small amount before closing his eyes again. "You are not at fault, Legolas. You did nothing wrong."
But even as Elrond speaks the words, he sees that Legolas does not believe him and for some reason, this knowledge hurts Elrond more than he expects. He can see that even this slight effort has tired Legolas greatly and he hopes that Glorfindel will hurry back with Gîl.
"Ada! Ada!" There is the busy sound of running feet and Gîlríon runs past Elrond to climb onto the bed, hugging Legolas' neck until the Sindar prince gasps slightly and opens his eyes in shock.
"Ion nin." Legolas' voice is barely a whisper and he stares at his son in disbelief. Surely this must be his imagination at work but the solid warmth and soft breath against his neck is very persuasive. Legolas works his hand free to touch the shining yellow curls. "Gîlríon."
"Ada, I have missed you so terribly much. Where have you been, ada? It must have been a long, long, long way away! Were you at the Grey Havens? Ada, are you well? You look tired. Did you know that it will be my third begetting day soon? Will you be here? Atto says I may have anything I wish for my begetting day, anything at all but I don't need *anything now that you are here! I love you, ada."
Gîlríon snuggles even more tightly against Legolas' neck and thus misses the look of consternation that crosses the faces of the Imladris elves. Legolas, however, does not miss the worried glances shared by Elrond and Glorfindel.
"I love you too, my star." Legolas manages to whisper in his son's ear. "I will be glad to share your begetting day with you."
Legolas understands what their expressions imply, for even now he can feel himself following his stillborn son but Gîlríon's begetting day is less than a fortnight away and Legolas knows he will last long enough for that.
"Come, Gîl." Glorfindel steps forward to take the elfling from the bed. "Your ada needs his rest."
"You won't leave again will you, ada?"
"I will see you soon, ion nin." Legolas kisses Gîl's forehead, effectively avoiding a direct answer. "Go with your atto now."
"Yes, ada."
Legolas watches as the golden haired elfling leaves the room in his sire's arms, smiling and waving. He promptly closes his eyes again once he can no longer hear their footsteps, his breath sounding harsh and labored in the sudden quiet.
"I will see that you have new rooms, Legolas," Elrond begins, only to have the young Sindar prince open his blue eyes in an angry glare.
"No." Legolas manages to gasp out. "Enough... cruelty."
Elrond watches in dismay as Legolas fights for enough breath to continue.
"I will stay here so my son does not have false hope. Now leave."
"Very well, ernil. As you wish." Elrond walks over to pick up the small, still bundle and turns to leave.
"Wait." Legolas' face burns with the same fierce determination. "Give him to me."
"I do not think it wise..."
"I wish to say goodbye to him." There is a slight pause before Legolas continues, "Or is it *her*?"
"Your son, ernil." Elrond carefully places Legolas' second-born child in his arms and quietly leaves Legolas to his grief.
Legolas' eyes fill with tears, which drip slowly onto the soft blanket as he examines the delicate form. All is in its proper place and in perfect miniature, the silky hair is the deep grey of mithril and for a brief moment he wonders if the closed eyes would have been silver-grey or blue. Legolas remembers that his grandsire Oropher and Celeborn were kinsmen, and he wonders briefly if the cause of death is due to a degree of consanguinity. Regardless, the blood should not have been dangerously close. Legolas hums quietly, an old Silvan lullaby remembered from his own long-ago days as an elfling. In a few hours he will have to give the little body up even though he knows this son is already playing in Mandos' great hall or perhaps Estë’s garden.
*****
Hours later, the sound of hoof beats echo in the courtyard, announcing the twins' arrival and within moments, they race into the hall. Elrond is at the entrance to greet them, embracing them gently as he does so.
“Ada, Nana Gala said we must hurry home...” “...or we would be too late.”
“What has happened, ada?” they chorus, their silver-grey eyes pale with worry.
“Legolas has been delivered of a son, stillborn.”
The twins protested, “No, no.” “It cannot be true.”
“I am so sorry, my sons.”
“And Legolas?” “Is he...?”
“The Sindar prince lives yet, but he is seriously ill. I have little hope for him.”
“May we see him, ada?” Again the question is spoken as one. “Please?”
“Yes, but do not stay long. He is quite weak.”
The twins hurry off to the healing wing. Elrond quietly follows, knowing his presence will be needed soon enough.
“Legolas? Are you awake?”
Legolas ignores the voice of one of his masters. He is too tired to try and guess which twin it might be and in any case, the other one is here as well. He continues to croon to the still form.
“Legolas? May we see him? May we see our son?”
“Very well.” Legolas kisses the still form one last time as the twin gently takes it from his arms. He can smell the faint tinge of horse sweat that rises from their clothes; it reminds him of days long past, when he was still accepted by his own ada, even though he was mostly ignored by the royal court. The days when he guarded the horses of Mirkwood were the best days he had ever known in his short life.
“Ai, he is beautiful, Legolas. So perfect...” The twin's voice fades to a sob, only to be taken up by his brother. “Yes, Legolas. We are so sorry we did not know... why did you not tell us?”
“I did not know myself before you left. Had I known, I would certainly have told you.” Legolas knows there is a bitter tone in his voice but he no longer cares. He cannot be hurt anymore, not by anyone. “It does not matter now.”
“We are sorry, Legolas.” Soft hands brush at his face and hair but Legolas has perfected his mask over the last few months and does not flinch at their touch. “So very sorry, ernil.”
The twins begin keening an ancient lament and Legolas joins in. Their beautiful voices are terrible as their grief rises to be heard by all in Imladris, who quietly mourn with them. Later, the guards will say that Elbereth veiled her eyes in sympathy and their grandsire, Eärendil, dimmed the light of Vingilot as they sang.
Hours later, the twins leave the healing room with their only child. As before, they turn to each other in their grief, forgetting all others while Legolas remains alone, with empty arms and an emptier heart.
*****
While Elrond takes great care to see that he rests after his ordeal, Legolas sees that he is no longer of any value to Imladris, for neither Elladan nor Elrohir return to visit him. Elrond checks on him twice daily but speaks very little to the Sinda. In truth, Elrond's vast diplomatic skills fail him now. Legolas has no way of knowing how valuable he has become to the hidden realm.
He is so frail that Elrond makes sure not tell him about the message sent to Thranduil of Legolas' illness, and that the Woodland king received the messenger with the barest possible courtesy, sending the unlucky ellon back almost immediately with a message of his own -- that Mirkwood is not to be troubled by gossip of Imladris' royal concubines and their bastards.
*****
“When will ada come to live with us again, atto? I have missed ada so much, and he is home again. I want to paint him a special picture, atto. Will you help me find my paints, atto?”
In Glorfindel's rooms, Gîl was asking his sire the same questions he had been asking for the last week, ever since he had learned of Legolas' presence in the healing rooms, and for once Glorfindel found himself very nearly angry with his son. //The child has no way of knowing,// Glorfindel thought. //He is much too young to remember. Isn't he?//
“I will be glad to have ada home, atto. Are we going to have more rooms? I am big, you know. I do not need to be in the nursery any longer. Nurse says that a nursery should never be empty for very long; does that mean I will have a baby brother soon? Do you think I could have twin brothers, atto? I would like to have twin brothers. I get lonesome all by myself. I think twins are fun; I love Uncle Elladan and Uncle Elrohir, they always have time to play with me.”
At this Glorfindel looked distinctly uneasy. //He cannot know, he cannot. No one would dare think of saying anything to him...// Gîlríon misread his sire's strange expression, for he continued. “Of course, I would like a baby sister as well. Girls are fun too. I would watch out for her and protect her when she grew up.”
“Let's find your paints, ion nin. I am sure that ada would love to have a picture from you.” Glorfindel was eager to distract Gîlríon from this particular line of questioning. With any luck, Gîl would soon forget. But for once, Glorfindel had underestimated his own son: he failed to realize the deep bond between Gîlríon and Legolas -- Gîlríon might have been too young to do little more than cry on the day Legolas left, but he had never, ever forgotten.
Glorfindel rises from the table to look for the paints and Gîlríon follows his atto happily, certain as only a young child can be, that everything will work out just the way he wants it.
That night, while Gîlríon sleeps in the other room, his atto sits beside the fire and thinks of the past. He remembers the first night they spent without Legolas. Glorfindel had returned to his rooms, only to discover that Gîlríon was wet, hungry and terrified at being abandoned. Just why Gîlríon's screams of “Ada! Ada!” were ignored was never quite resolved but Glorfindel's angry bellows soon roused the entire house. One of the younger maids was quickly pressed into changing and bathing the hysterical elfling, but it made no difference. Gîlríon cried all night and for days afterwards had been inconsolable, despite the return of the nurse to care for him. Glorfindel had never realized just how much Legolas actually *did until he was no longer there. But he was not about to admit he had made a mistake, and he would never forgive Legolas' brief show of defiance -- though he did wonder if a whipping might not have been a better punishment. But Glorfindel seldom went back on a decision, for it showed weakness, not strength, and only served to undermine his authority.
Sighing, Glorfindel quietly sips his wine. Gîlríon is a sweet child who is remarkably unspoiled, considering that he is an unofficial prince of Imladris. Gîlríon has only to look woebegone, with a hint of tears in the bright blue eyes and everyone rushes to make him smile once more. Elrond dotes on him as if Gîl were his own grandchild, and the twins have named themselves as honorary uncles. No, Gîlríon has never lacked for attention or companionship, for even the redoubtable Galadhrim of Lórien have fallen to his charm. Haldir, Orophin and Rúmil – all find a reason to stop and speak with the child, often slipping him a sweet or two.
*****
For the next week, Legolas is visited daily by Gîlríon, who takes up residence on Legolas' bed and is clearly intent on filling his ada in on every single detail of his life that Legolas missed while he was "the ambassador to Far Harad." Legolas smiles, hearing every word and more than content to watch his growing son.
"That was how I learned Lord Elrond is allergic to cats," Gîlríon concluded. "Ada? Are you hungry? Would you like me to ask Cook for something else?"
"I am fine, ion. I am still tired and I am never very hungry."
"Are you sure, ada?" Gîlríon looks worriedly at him, his forehead wrinkled in unmistakable mimicry of his sire.
"I am certain of it." Legolas deigns to sip at the glass of miruvor, which serves to reassure the elfling slightly.
"Okay..." Gîlríon looks a bit dubious but he is soon busily relating yet another story. "… and that was when I learned that Lindir and Gildor don't wear clothing at night when they wrestle. It doesn't seem to bother them though, and they seem really happy and they sleep really sound afterwards, sometimes they even sleep with their eyes closed. I don't know why they want sleep though. When I wrestle, *I* don't feel like sleeping -- I want to play some more. Ada? Why are you laughing? Ada?"
"No matter, ion nin. When you are older, you will understand these matters."
"That's what everyone always tells me." Gîlríon pouts for a moment and then smiles as his ada kisses his forehead. “I must go and eat now, ada. Do you wish me to bring you anything?”
“No, thank you Gîl.” Legolas tries to smooth the tousled curls into a semblance of order but his ion is already sliding off the bed and hurrying out the door. Legolas smiles tiredly as he watches Gîlríon and settles back on the pillows, feeling completely exhausted.
*****
Erestor sits near Legolas, keeping a careful eye on the young Sinda as he reviews the paperwork that seems to follow him through the Last Homely House.
“I am surprised you requested my attendance, ernil. I thought you would prefer someone friendlier to stay with you.”
“You are very restful, my lord.”
Erestor's eyebrows rise, unconsciously mimicking Elrond's at that moment because Erestor does not believe that anyone has ever called him 'restful' before. Legolas seems to sense that, for he continues.
“The others exhaust me. The grief, the guilt... it is too much -- it washes off them and makes me feel that I am about to drown. You make no such demands on me. It is a great kindness.”
Erestor says nothing, for his heart is filled with shame at his callous attitude toward the Sindar youth as Legolas closes his eyes once more, feigning sleep.
*****
It is a few days later when Erestor notices that Legolas looks at him with an appraising gaze. It is most unusual for the youth to do such a thing and it piques the dark elf's curiosity.
“Do you have a question, pen neth?” He asks, setting down his quill.
“I was wondering...” Legolas drops his gaze and begins to smooth the heavy quilt. “May I ask you a question, my lord?”
“Of course you may. What do you wish to know?”
“I was wondering if you knew how much a bag of sweets might cost. You see, I have no present for Gîl's begetting day.”
“A bag of sweets would cost five coppers, I believe. Would you like me to purchase one for you?”
“Five coppers -- as much as that.” Legolas murmurs in dismay. “I am sorry, my lord but I do not have that much.”
“I am certain that there are some nice ones to be had for less than five, ernil. Whatever you do have will be sufficient.”
“I do not even have one copper.” Legolas replies, hanging his head in shame.
Erestor's mouth opens in shock. For any Imladrian elf to have no coinage at all is unheard of -- and then he remembers Legolas' circumstances. But before he can speak, Legolas continues.
“I brought nothing with me when I came, only Lainiell and I am sure that she became Lord Glorfindel's property when he deigned to take me in. I was so ill with Gîlríon, though -- I am sure I cost him much more than she is worth. And my new masters -- I must have cost them even more than I did with Lord Glorfindel. So you see, I really have nothing for I *am nothing. Unless...” Legolas pauses and eyes the dark elf speculatively.
“Unless what?” Erestor manages to croak out.
“You may use me in anyway you wish, for three coppers. I am told by many that I am very pleasing, even though I am not looking my best right now. But I am sure I can bring you pleasure; I am quite skilled.” Legolas misreads Erestor's stunned expression, for he hastily amends his sales pitch. “Or, you can beat me for the same amount for as long as you like and using whatever you wish. You may even draw blood if it pleases you. I can take it; I can endure much and I will heal. I will not scream and I will tell no-one. Lord Elrond no longer comes every day, so I am sure that any bruises will fade before he notices.”
When this fails to bring a response, Legolas decides to amend his offer yet again. “If you do not want me, I am sure the guards would enjoy a chance to use me in the same manner the Mirkwood king has used their friends. If you will take me to them, they can use me in anyway they desire for one night. As many of them as they wish, to do as they please -- just as long as I am able to attend Gîl's party. I will even return so they may finish what they start. I will only charge them six coppers, and you may have three for your trouble.”
Erestor stares openly at Legolas, completely aghast at the propositions and feels a belated sense of outrage begin to rise within him. Mistaking the dark elf's expression, Legolas drops his head in dismay at the perceived refusal.
“I beg your forgiveness, my lord. I am sorry for speaking so boldly to you. I beg that you punish me in anyway you see fit for such disrespect.”
“I... I will think on what you have said, ernil. I must go now, I am late for a meeting.” Erestor quickly grabs a variety of papers at random and hurries out the door, making sure to close it tightly behind him. Erestor walks down the hallway toward a secluded nook, where he buries his head in his hands and weeps.
*****
Elrond and Glorfindel were idly chatting in Elrond's conference room, waiting for Erestor's arrival, so they could go over the recent patrol reports.
“The weather promises to be fine for Gîlríon's party,” Elrond had just finished saying. “I suppose you have a special surprise planned, do you not? What is it to be this year? An oliphaunt?”
“Not yet, Elrond.” Glorfindel laughed as he sipped at his coffee. “I was thinking of a sword.”
Just then Erestor stalked in, his dark eyes icy with barely controlled rage.
“My lords.” Erestor spoke curtly to them as he placed a parchment on the desk. “Lord Elrond, I wish to begin training my replacement at once.”
“Your replacement? But why?” Elrond had not expected anything to happen outside of the normal, everyday routine. “What is this? Erestor, tell me what has happened.”
“I intend to sail within the year. I will no longer be able to fulfill my duties as your advisor.”
“I think you owe Lord Elrond more of an explanation,” snapped Glorfindel as he studied the dark-haired ellon.
“I owe you nothing and I am giving Lord Elrond ample notice.” Erestor snapped back at the golden elf. “Now, if we may get down to business, there is much to be done.”
After an unusually tense meeting that was much shorter than expected, Glorfindel left to supervise a new group of young recruits. Erestor rose to leave as well, but Elrond grasped him by the arm.
“I would have you stay.” Elrond spoke quietly, even as Erestor pulled his arm free from the stifling grasp. “That was not a request, Erestor.”
“Very well.” Erestor seated himself, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what is wrong.” Elrond studied his chief advisor closely. “I assume it has something to do with the Sindar prince?”
“Yes.” Erestor replied grudgingly.
“Continue.” Elrond looked at him in exasperation. “I do not intend to drag it out of you word by word. Speak plainly, Erestor.”
“The prince is very distraught since he has nothing to give his son for a begetting day gift.”
“Is that all? You make a fuss out of nothing, cousin.”
“Would you like to know how he intends to buy something, Lord Elrond?”
“Indeed, I would be most interested in learning this.”
“He offered to let me use him in any way I might wish, so he could earn three coppers to buy a bag of sweets for his son.” Erestor's voice was soft and laced with pain. “When I did not respond right away, he said he would make the same offer to the guards for six coppers, and I could have three if I would deliver him there and back. He only asked that he be left able to attend his son's party, then he swore to return so they would get their full value.”
“Sweet Valar.” Elrond dropped his head to his hands.
“I have never before been ashamed to be an elf, Elrond. Yet now I wish that I were a Man, or a Dwarf, for I would feel less shame.”
*****
Erestor walks slowly back to the healing wing, dreading his next meeting with the young Sinda. The youth will be waiting for an answer and for once, he has no idea what to say. He knows he will not accept either of the offers, nor will he convey the third offer to the guards.
As he enters the room, he notices that Gîlríon is there already and that both are quietly napping in the sunlight. //They make a pretty picture//, he thinks. //So much alike, yet so very different.// Erestor backs out of the doorway and retreats down the hallway to the small nook once more. A few minutes later, he watches as Gîlríon hurries away from the room toward the main kitchen.
“Good afternoon, pen neth. I see you have had a visitor.”
“Yes, I did. He is such a good boy.” Legolas' thin face is flushed with pleasure. “Did you want something, my lord?”
“Well, yes.” Erestor clears his throat nervously. “I wish to speak to you about your offer.”
“Oh, I see.” Legolas' face changes at once, the calm cool mask firmly in place. “How may I serve you, my lord?”
“You misunderstand me, ernil. I have no use for your body. I have no such appetites.”
“I see. You wish to watch while another takes your place. That is acceptable as well.”
“No!” At his sharp tone, Legolas cringes back against the bed. “I apologize, ernil. I have given you the wrong impression and I apologize.” Erestor motioned to a nearby chair. “May I be seated?”
“Of course.” Legolas belatedly realizes his poor manners as Erestor seats himself. “I apologize for keeping you standing, my lord.”
“As you know, ernil, I am a scholar, first and foremost. Yet I find that the library of Imladris is lacking in many things regarding your people. So I will make you a counter-offer. I will give you a copper for each story or song you tell me. Is that acceptable?”
“But I know very little, my lord. I have sung our children's songs and told a few stories to Gil, but that cannot possibly be of any value to you.”
“It is exactly what I wish to know, pen neth, for how better to understand others than to know what and how they are taught from their childhood?”
“Really?” Legolas looks at him in bewilderment. “I never thought it was of any value to anyone.”
“Will you accept my offer then?”
“I would be pleased to help you in anyway, but...”
“Then it is settled. A copper for each song or story you tell.” Erestor extends his hand to Legolas, intending to shake hands with the Sindar prince. But Legolas merely stares blankly at the hand before leaning forward to kiss the small signet ring Erestor has worn since his own long-ago majority.
“Very well, my lord. It shall be as you wish.”
Once again, Erestor feels a deep pain in his chest and struggles to compose himself. He hears soft footsteps and turns to see Melpomaen in the doorway. The young scribe is his top assistant and well-qualified to take over more of his duties. He is also one of the few elves in Imladris who seems to hold no ill-will toward Legolas. The elf looks steadily at him and holds out a large folder.
“You have another meeting, advisor. I believe you will need this.”
“Thank you, Melpomaen.” Erestor has seldom been so relieved to have an interruption. “Please excuse me, ernil. I will be back later on.”
“Of course, my lord.” Legolas inclines his head as he waits for them to leave. When he is alone once more, he turns to look out the window. He smiles to himself as he catches sight of Gîl playing with a ball, then thinks over his conversation with Erestor. The chief advisor is not one to play tricks; indeed, from what Legolas had heard, he has no sense of humor. His offer was sincere, even if it does seem absurd to Legolas. Imagine, thinking that children's stories and songs are valuable! Why, his ada and brothers would laugh themselves silly at the very idea. But the offer was made and Legolas will honor it.
*****
The day of Gîlríon's third begetting is bright and sunny. Legolas is in attendance as well, although he is confined to a couch, supported by pillows and covered with a thin blanket. The party is small, with few elflings since Imladris does not appear to lend itself to encouraging a high birth rate and Legolas hopes that when he comes of age, Gîlríon will find a loving bond-mate.
Though Gîlríon is clearly enjoying himself with all of the guests, food, games and presents, he is keeping a close eye on his ada. He shows each present to his ada, and all are duly admired and exclaimed over. Gîlríon personally brings a large chunk of cake to him as well, showing remarkable skill in balancing the delicate china while avoiding the gathered assortment of housecats and hounds that lurk nearby, ever hopeful of a dropped plate.
“This has been the best begetting day ever, ada. I am so glad you are here.”
“I am glad too, ion nin.”
Gîlríon yawns suddenly and curls up at his ada's side, idly fingering the carved horse that is Legolas' gift to him.
“Are you tired, my Gîl?”
“No, ada. I am just very full now.”
Legolas smiles and smooths the tangled curls, unsurprised when his son tosses his head impatiently. His íon is so like his sire that Legolas can see little sign of himself in the elfling. Perhaps that is a good thing, that it is better that his ion does not know his Sindar heritage. It has brought Legolas nothing but pain and grief, and he would spare Gîlríon that.
“Will you be here tomorrow, ada?”
“Yes, ion nin. I will.”
“And the day after that?”
“We shall see, ion nin.”
A shadow falls over them and as Gîlríon squeals “Atto!”, Legolas looks down. He has no wish to be subjected to Glorfindel's cool, appraising gaze.
“Come, Gîlríon. It is time for your supper.”
“But I am not hungry, atto.”
“Very well. You may take your gifts to your room, and then we will have a light supper.”
“Yes, atto.” Gîlríon places a soft kiss on his ada's forehead. “I will you see you later, ada.”
“Yes, my Gîl. Run along now.”
Glorfindel and Legolas watch their ion run toward the house, still tightly clutching the carved horse.
“How are you, Legolas? Tell me the truth now.”
“I am well enough, my lord. You need not worry yourself.”
“You are Gîlríon's ada, so I will always be concerned about you.”
“As I said, there is no need, my lord.”
“Legolas...” Glorfindel hesitates, feeling oddly uncertain as he looks down at the thin, frail elf and thinks perhaps he is seeing the real Legolas for the first time. Despite everything, the elf lord has a deep affection for the young Sindar prince but he no longer feels he has any rights to him. He should have married the youth upon his arrival in Imladris with the news he carried Glorfindel's heir, begging for sanctuary from his father's wrath and stripping himself of all dignity in order to assure the survival of their child. Legolas asked for so little and he has been given even less. “I will speak to you later, ernil, when you are more rested.”
“As you wish, my lord. I await your earliest convenience.” Legolas closes his eyes so that he will not see Glorfindel leave, but he still hears the footsteps fading into the distance. Nothing ever changes, he thinks wearily.
*****
Glorfindel enters Elrond's office, knowing that he is expected. Elrond looks up and puts several papers to one side.
“I know why you are here, mellon.”
“Then you know that I intend to marry Legolas, and make him my husband according to our law.”
“You have waited this long and yet done nothing, Glorfindel. Why this sudden concern now?”
Glorfindel looks uneasy at Elrond's criticism.
“I have been a fool, Elrond. I should have married him at once, instead of waiting so long.” The blond Elda sighs unhappily. “I should never have put him aside.”
“No, you should not have done that. You should have done better – much better – by him.”
“I can make it up to him though. I will marry him, and we will have the life that should have been ours from the beginning. Gîlríon will be happy, too.”
“But will Legolas be happy?” Elrond's sharp, sad gaze makes Glorfindel feel nervous and uncertain. “He would do anything if he thought it would please Gîlríon – and perhaps you. But happiness? No, I do not think that Legolas can ever be happy.”
“No. I refuse to believe that.” Glorfindel shakes his head in dismay. “We will be a real family, and we will be happy. All of us.”
“Think for a moment. His father rejected him and treated him as if he were less than a Man. Then you came along and raped him, leaving him alone and terrified. When he was forced to acknowledge what had happened, his father threatened him with death if he stayed, so he ran away to the only place he could think of that might show him mercy, even if he were an enemy. He came here and nearly died in the attempt. And what happens on his arrival? He is taken prisoner and treated as if he were little better than a spy. When he was brought before us, we laughed at him and called him liar, deceiver -- and made him realize that only the babe he carried was of any value and that if anything should happen to it before birth, he would be given to the soldiers for their private whore.”
Elrond pauses while Glorfindel hangs his head in shame, for Elrond speaks the truth and he knows it. “Then, after Gîlríon was born -- you do remember how things went during his birthing, do you not -- Legolas was near exhaustion, too tired and scared to refuse anything you might ask, yet you continued to use him though he had scarcely healed.”
“You did not say anything of this to me before.” Glorfindel is hurt that Elrond seems to blame him for everything and feels a sudden anger toward his longtime friend. “Why speak of it now, and not then?”
“I hold more than my share of responsibility, believe me.” Elrond looks out the window, refusing to meet his seneschal's gaze. “I should have told you to leave him alone, even before he gave birth. He was in no shape for your games and I knew it. But I said nothing, because he was only a Sinda and it pleased me to know that one of Thranduil's people suffered as our people have suffered at his hands. It is one of the worst mistakes I have ever made, for it was deliberately made -- and I will regret it all my days.”
*****
The next day, Gîlríon is up bright and early to visit his ada once more. His quiet entrance is unnoticed by an aide, who leaves a breakfast tray beside his ada's bed. For the first time, he sees how pale and weak his ada is. There is nothing wrong with Legolas' hearing though and he turns to smile at his son.
“Good morning ada.” Gîlríon climbs up on the bed and settles easily beside his ada, taking extra care not to be too rough in his movements and gently kisses his ada's cheek.
“Good morning, Gîl.” Legolas returns Gîlríon's kiss and manages a smile. “Did you enjoy your party and all of your presents?”
“Yes I did, ada. But you are still the best present of all.”
“Thank you, ion nin.”
Gîlríon chatters a few moments more about his plans for the day and then hurries off, promising to be back after breakfast. Glorfindel waits until Gîlríon leaves and then enters the room.
“Legolas. How are you today?” Glorfindel mentally berates himself for such inanities. “Are you well?”
“I am fine, my lord.” Legolas peers up cautiously at the Gondolin lord, wondering why he is being questioned. Surely Elrond has told him that he is not up to any sort of strenuous activity and then he realizes that the older elf must be here to tell him about his new master. “I am sorry I am too weak to greet you properly. I beg your forgiveness, my lord.”
“You need not apologize. Look at me, ernil.” Glorfindel speaks more sharply than he intends, for he still feels tremendous guilt over his treatment of the Sindar youth. It was a mistake to send him away, to turn him over to Elladan and Elrohir. He remembers his discussion with Elrond about marrying Legolas. While Elrond did not disapprove of the nuptials, nor had he seemed happy about Glorfindel's plan either. “As soon as you are fully recovered, I will come for you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Legolas knows that this can only mean that Glorfindel will be giving him to someone else. He knows that in his master's eyes, he is forever tainted. Once, Legolas' only fear was of being sent away; then he smiles in his bitterness. He knows that he will never leave Imladris again.
Glorfindel mistakes Legolas' expression for pleased surprise at their coming reunion and he is confident that their lives will soon be restored to the family they had before, but this time it will be better.
TBC...
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Date: 2009-05-06 08:13 am (UTC)Mistake, Glorfindel, Mistake...
I like your Erestor, firm, wise and with a heart much less prejudiced than the rest of them...(all right, I like Erestor in any incarnation)
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Date: 2009-05-06 02:18 pm (UTC)Erestor is the only one who realizes that Legolas has something to contribute other than his body.