A/N: Hello, my darling readers! As all plans do, the plans for this story seemed to go awry, seeing as I promised you in September of 2008 that I would have this up within a few months… well… 19 months is a few right? I digress.
If you remember, I left you all with Caen's exile, and an epilogue that gave you a glimmer of hope that her life would be better. Well, here is the proof. Your ends are all tied up here; your questions are all answered. Well, most of them, anyway! I hope you enjoy this, because I certainly enjoyed writing it for you.
I must spare a sentence or two for my lovely beta Siobhan (aka Mermaid Sushi) who has swept in on numerous occasions over the last two years this has been in the works and kept me on track. Her work has not gone unnoticed.
With that, I leave you to enjoy Caen's story!
-Ivy,
7/20/10.
Disclaimer: I only own Caen and her story. The rest belongs to our favorite Professor Tolkien.
Earth's Final Closure
Caen was breathing deeply – very deeply – and imagining herself somewhere else – anywhere else – where she was alone and peacefully centered.
'I am alone. I am in my talan's garden and I am digging into the soft earth. The sun is high and I turn my face up to it, and it warms me from the outside in. I am-'
Nelvil's lilting voice shattered the image. She must have just returned from her expedition out of the cramped room in search of ribbons - "Gaer! I brought the ribbon you asked for. You're right, it matches her dress perfectly!"
'Getting married today.'
Nelvil and Gaerden, the wives of Elrohir and Elladan, had happily (perhaps too happily) agreed to help the bride get ready for the ceremonies that evening. Caen, who was used to living a hassle-free life in her talan, and who was too used to taking care of her own needs, was feeling overwhelmed at both the attention and the girlish shrieks. She liked Nel and Gaer… she just found them a little overbearing, occasionally.
The pair were suited perfectly for Elrohir and Elladan. They balanced out the wilder sides that dominated the twins' personalities, and secretly Caen thought this was because they were a little wild, themselves. Caen had never met two elves who got along better than the ellyn in the room with her. Gaer was the quieter of the pair, but had a mischievous gleam in her eye that surely was the same gleam as was in her husband's – Elladan's – eye. Nel seemed to have no sadness in her soul, because Caen had never seen the elf frown. Elrohir, who was just as sneaky as his twin, but who had felt the repercussions of being the older sibling more than once, had found the perfect match in sunny Nel.
Caen just hoped that, though she and Legolas were still blissfully happy, that they would eventually find a balance like the twins had.
It had been a little over two years since Legolas had arrived on the last ship – 'the last ship… he couldn't have caught on sooner and realized that everyone else had left?' Caen thought with a tiny, though bemused frown – and she and Legolas had spent their time since his arrival establishing their life together.
The couple had sunk gratefully into a relaxing life, one without the worries of the lands over the Great Sea. Legolas had been living with Caen in her tiny talan since his arrival, though recently Legolas had completed construction on a new, larger home. Caen knew that Legolas had little elflings in mind for the future – and truth be told, so did she.
Too happy to finally have him in her arms, Caen had let Legolas be the one to bring up the ghosts of the War, and it had taken a while for Legolas to open up and share those stories with her. Caen had many memories of recent months of lying in bed together, face to face, hands entwined, listening to Legolas tell his story. Those stories had made her laugh, made her weep, and made her ache. It was a tale worth telling, no matter how terrible it got at times, and all Caen wanted now was to move forward, arm in arm with her husband.
'Husband…'
"Caen, where are you?" Gaer asked, touching her arm lightly, wearing the tiniest of frowns. Caen came out of her thoughts and realized that she had not been listening to the other two, too deep in her own thoughts.
"Just thinking," Caen answered simply.
"About that gorgeous elf of yours?" Nel winked.
"I hope you are not thinking of my gorgeous elf, because you have got a gorgeous elf of your own," Caen warned lightly. It was hard not to catch onto Nel's mood; it was contagious.
"He is gorgeous, isn't he?" Nel agreed, a dreamy look on her face. She snapped out of the daydream immediately, for there were more important things to worry about. "Now stand up. You have a dress to put on," she added. Caen rose off the stool she had been perched on and strode to Gaer, who slipped the dress over her head. Caen loved the way the silks kissed her skin, and was very grateful to Thranduil, who had given her Legolas' mother's dress. It fit like a glove, since it had been altered for Caen a few months earlier. A few areas had been altered – the bust had been taken in and the length shortened – and the finished product flattered Caen and made her feel like someone who deserved to marry Legolas. Her dark history was hard to shake some days, and often she felt like Legolas was too good for her, but today she felt like she was worthy enough to be his bride.
There was a knock at the door, and Nel answered it, because Gaer was lacing up the back of the dress. "If you are Legolas, go away!" Gaer yelled, just for good measure. Caen giggled.
"Don't insult me like that," the voice of Elladan called through the door. Nel opened the door so Elladan could enter. He stepped into the room, looking groomed and regal. He walked to Gaer to give her a quick kiss and to admire Caen. "Dear sister, you look incredible," he said, and Caen could tell that he meant it.
Elladan and Elrohir had truly been rocks for Caen while she had been separated from Legolas. The pair had always been like brothers to Caen, and when they sailed west, they had lost no time making that clear to her. She was eternally grateful that even though she had a less-than-pristine past, they still wanted to associate with her. Along with doing this, they had also helped her get through some of the worst years that she had spent alone.
She had no trouble recalling the day they had arrived.
Whispers, whispers about boats. There were always whispers about boats coming in to dock, and Caen had long since stopped standing on the shore waiting for Legolas. It was too painful, far too painful to waste an afternoon watching the sails and the hull and eagerly anticipating seeing the passengers appear from the depths of the vessel but being disappointed every time. No, she was done with that.
Caen was sulking – actually sulking. Most days she managed to remind herself how lucky she was to be alive and how grateful she should be to Elrond, but today was a bad day. Nothing had seemed to go right for her – not the bread she had baked, not the flowers she had repotted, and not the sun, which was staying resolutely hidden behind clouds. There was a brisk knock on the door, and that had made Caen start. She should have noticed someone's approach and she was not pleased that she had been lost so deep in thought.
Caen opened the door and was brought face to face with none other than Elrond himself. "Good morning, Caen," he said kindly. He smiled a little larger this morning, and Caen assumed that he had noticed how miserable she appeared to him.
"Good morning," Caen answered. Elrond was outwardly happy today, positively radiating the feeling, she realized. For such a stern man, he was one of the most joyful these days since his reunion with his wife; Celebrían's presence had brought life back into the old Elf.
"Have you heard?" Elrond asked without any further niceties. Caen shook her head. "Elrohir and Elladan are almost here. They have been sighted." There was great joy in Elrond's voice, and Caen ached when she heard it. How good it would feel to be joyful again! So many years of solitude and regret for her actions during the War were hard to rid herself of. Most days she could hardly stand her sorrow, and what made it worse was that she knew that she deserved every bit of it. The most she could do was hope that someday she would forgive herself.
"That is wonderful, Elrond," Caen said, and even through her current misery she felt herself smile. Perhaps she would go to the docks this morning.
"Yes, it is! Now that you know, I will be on my way to the shore," Elrond said, turning to descend her ladder. Caen made up her mind in that very second.
"May I accompany you?" she asked. Elrond smiled again, that fatherly smile that she rarely ever saw, and answered warmly,
"Of course, my Caen."
Caen had gone to the shore with Elrond that morning and had only waited a few short hours before the twins and at least seven or eight others disembarked. Elrohir had the arm of a beautifully blonde elf, and when he took her hand, Caen could tell that she was his wife. The twins looked exactly the same as they had years before, and they were smiling and greeting everyone they recognized by name.
"Hello, Father," Elladan called as he caught sight of Elrond. "And Mother," he added as Celebrían threw herself at her son. She kissed his cheek and he hugged her tight. She gave the same treatment to Elrohir, and then greeted the elleth to Elrohir's right. Caen had been right in thinking that she was his wife. She was a glowing elf, and Caen overheard that Nelvil was her name. Caen stood toward the back of the crowd, more than a little afraid about the twins' opinions of her, seeing as she had left long ago and had not spoken to them after her trial. Elladan was the first to reach her.
"Caen, it is good to see you again," he said softly, pulling her into his embrace and giving her a tight hug. "We have missed you greatly," he added.
Caen, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and relief, began to cry into Elladan's shoulder. Elrohir appeared seconds later and Caen hugged him, too.
"Why are you crying, Sister?" Elrohir asked softly, which only made Caen cry harder. Her deepest fears were those related to her family - fears that she would no longer have a family because of the choices she had made. She had been so rotten to her family and her friends, betrayals and murders were only the beginning of her story. She had come from the lowest of the low, serving her evil father faithfully, and come out of that a broken, though mostly whole elf. Banished, she had escaped with her life, but only her life. She would be forever grateful for Elrond's decision during her trial.
"Hush, we are here," Elladan said to her. "You will always have us."
Caen owed those elves so much; for her sanity, for her happiness. After their arrival they had been there for every step of Caen's healing process, which she realized now that she had not started until after the twins had sailed. She had needed Elrohir and Elladan as her catalysts, and after their acceptance of her, she had begun to open up to other people.
Elladan put his arm around Caen, and she said, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."
Gaer finished lacing up Caen's dress, stole her from Elladan's embrace and steered her over to a chair, where she plonked her down and started combing Caen's hair. Nel held the ribbon she had fetched earlier and twisted it in her hands, since she had nothing else to do.
"How is Legolas?" Caen asked Elladan, who was leaning against the wall, and observing the beautification process with amusement.
"Simply beside himself. He cannot seem to sit still, and Thranduil will not let him touch the wine," Elladan said with a cheeky grin.
"And…?" Caen prompted, because she knew that that must not be all.
"Elrohir and I have been drinking the wine and tormenting him." Clearly, the two were doing all they could to wind Legolas up. Caen knew the elf would be as tightly wound as a spring when they said their vows.
"You tell Thranduil to let Legolas have a drink. If anything, it will counteract the damage the two of you have done." Caen sighed. Elladan, smirk still wide on his face, gave his wife another kiss and left the room.
"That elf," Gaer mumbled.
"You're right about that," Caen agreed, puffing a stray hair out of her face.
Caen found it hard to dwell on the present when so much reminded her of the past. It was her past, laden with mistakes and awful memories that had led her to this moment. Today, she tried as hard as she could to push those memories out of her head, though she was only moderately successful. One thought, though, kept her tied firmly to the present:
At sunset, she was getting married to the elf that she loved.
When she had been young, young enough that her mother was still alive, Caen had thought of the day when her mother and father would celebrate her bond with another elf. Caen felt like she could still hear her mother's voice waft through the air telling her about marriage ceremonies, and felt a dull stab of pain in her chest when she realized where her thoughts were going: to her dead mother, to those terrible days when she spoke to no one, to when she was temporarily liberated from her father.
Caen tried to tamp down those thoughts and toss them into a far-forgotten corner in her mind, but was only marginally successful. She remembered the first days that she had spent in Rivendell, being terrified of everyone, especially stern Elrond.
Her mind took her zooming back into her more recent past, after the trial that had given her life back, to her last days in Rivendell.
Late at night, Caen had disentangled herself from Legolas, with whom she was laying on her bed. She slipped on a dress and kissed Legolas' cheek. She couldn't rest, she couldn't think straight, and she desperately wanted a cup of tea.
'Funny,' she thought to herself. 'I narrowly escape death and all I want is a cup of tea.'
Caen walked the familiar halls, glad that they were empty, and silently wound her way to the kitchens, where she went about heating the water and preparing the tea leaves.
"Would you make me one, too?" a voice said from behind her.
"Of course," Caen answered without hesitation. She readied another cup, and a few minutes after the water had boiled she passed the cup to Elrond.
"Thank you," Elrond said. Caen did not know why he was in the kitchens with her, but she wished that he would speak. It was hard to be properly confused when there was someone else so adept at reading other people in the room.
"I feel as if I owe you an apology," Elrond spoke after a time, taking one last sip of tea and setting down the empty cup. Caen took it and refilled it.
"If anyone owes anyone an apology, it should be me," Caen said, not meeting Elrond's eye, the too-fresh memories of her trial flashing before her eyes. She was ashamed of herself, though she knew at that point that there was little point to being ashamed any longer.
"I did not enjoy myself this afternoon," Elrond continued. "I felt as though I were trying my own child," he said, his voice heavy with emotion: sadness, regret, pity. Caen did not know how she was supposed to react to such a statement. "I am the one who has raised you and perhaps I have not given you a father, though you so deserve one."
"For a while, before-" Before her own father had so terribly descended upon her wonderful life- "before… I was really happy. I felt like I had a family," Caen revealed. She was silent for a moment, and stared into the depths of her cooling tea. "And I couldn't bear to let anything happen to you- someone who had been so kind to an abandoned child."
Elrond spoke, choosing his words carefully. "I cannot say that your actions were right, but for what it is worth you still have a family."
Caen finally looked up and stared at Elrond. "I thank you," she said. She was not shocked, but deeply touched at Elrond's invitation to remain part of his family.
"This world is full of people who have made bad choices. You have a chance to repair yours; too many do not," Elrond added. It was a warning, and one that Caen did not need. She felt wholly responsible for her actions and intended to live out her life in peace from that point forward. A few silent minutes followed this conversation, during which both Caen and Elrond thought of much to say, but no right way to say it. In the end, Caen excused herself and left Elrond alone in the kitchen.
As awkward as that conversation had been, Caen had needed to have it. When Caen had been landed in the foster care of the Lord of Rivendell after her mother's murder and father's abandonment, Caen had begun to develop a relationship with Elrond. Caen had enjoyed being treated as one of Elrond's children, and desperate to find some form of love, she had happily slipped into their family. Celebrían and Elrond had become her parents and Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen her brothers and sister.
Even better, they had welcomed her into their lives without hesitation. A frightened and abandoned child could not have asked for anything more.
When Celebrían had been attacked by the orcs, Caen had mourned with them. She remembered it as the first real trial of her work for her father, Morthen. She had hated herself throughout the process, feeling torn in two – between the duty she was being forced to do and the grief she felt at the pain that Celebrían and her family were feeling.
Much of the fear she had harbored while sailing West was the reaction she would receive from Celebrían when she came clean and told her story.
Caen had prided herself on being fearless for many years – it was what had helped her survive. But at that moment, standing on the deck of the small ship, she was terrified. They were nearing shore, and her emotional state was a wreck, at best.
She had cried earlier, and she had not enjoyed it. In fact, she hoped to never cry like that again. She suspected that she would, though... her tears seemed far from being spent. She had cried for the love she had left on Middle Earth, the love who was at this very moment marching into the depths of Mordor. She had cried for the family she might not see again, and the family she knew she would never see again. She had cried for the life she could have had, with Elrond and Celebrían as her parents and Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen as her siblings. She cried for the atrocities that her father had made her commit in his name and for the atrocities she had committed in her own.
The shore was edging closer, and too many elves were gathered there. Caen would have much rather sailed to the other side of the island and snuck in through the back. She did not recognize many of the people who were grouped on the shore. At the very front stood Celebrían, smiling widely and waving at the boat getting ever nearer, clearly having recognized one of the passengers. Caen lifted an arm and waved halfheartedly back, knowing that each wave the boat crested brought her closer to the harsh reality she feared was ahead. Celebrían, she thought, could never forgive her. She knew that Celebrían would not. And so when she waved, she felt like she was waving goodbye to the loving mother she had treasured once.
Celebrían did not know. Caen did not want to retell her tale again, but knew she would have to. It would be unfair not to.
Soon, much too soon in Caen's opinion, they were disembarking. Celebrían rushed forward and embraced Caen, crying with happiness. "Caen, my Caen, you are here at last! I did not expect to see anyone sail so soon!" she cried. She kissed both of Caen's cheeks and smiled at her through her tears. "How I have missed you, daughter."
"I have missed you too, Naneth [Mother]," Caen said weakly, feeling some of those awful tears threatening to brim.
"Oh, my dear you must be hungry. Come along and I will make you some tea." Celebrían took Caen's arm and walked her to her lodging. In no time at all Caen found herself sitting in a chair in Celebrían's kitchen and being presented with a cup of steaming tea. Caen thanked her and sipped it. She did not speak – she was dreading the story she had to tell.
"Caen, are you feeling well?" Celebrían asked, pushing some of the hair out of Caen's face and peering into her eyes in a motherly manner. Celebrían had always been adept at sensing moods and correctly interpreting them, being the daughter of Galadriel.
Caen felt her eyes sting and she whispered, "I did not want to leave. I was forced to."
"Forced to?" Celebrían exclaimed. "Who would have made you leave?"
Not knowing exactly how to go about the retelling, the whole story fell out of Caen's mouth. The guilt and remorse she felt was palpable, and Celebrían, though shocked, took Caen's hand and held it while she was telling her tale. When Caen was done, Celebrían seemed lost for words. She sat in silence for a few long minutes while Caen dreaded what response was to come.
"I knew something was wrong," Celebrían said eventually. "I knew something had happened to you and I hadn't done a thing to help you." Her voice was bitter. "I wanted so much to help you, and yet I did nothing."
"Oh, Celebrían. You cannot take my faults and put them on yourself. Nobody can. The fault is mine, and mine alone." Caen had not anticipated this reaction, though she supposed she should have seen it coming. Celebrían was nothing if not kind.
"Now Caen, until you have a place of your own, I insist that you stay here with me. No-" Celebrían batted down Caen's feeble attempt at a protest, "You will."
"I… thank you, Naneth," Caen agreed weakly, knowing very well that any attempts at an excuse were pointless.
Caen had stayed with Celebrían for a time and was very grateful for the support that she had been shown. Caen knew that she had needed the time there very badly, and had gone through a great deal of emotional healing while there. Celebrían had helped Caen find her center and had helped her get through the first few awful years. Even when Caen had left Celebrían's home for her own, she had spent much time with her adoptive mother.
Celebrían had been her mother when Caen had desperately needed one when she was younger, and she still held that place of honor. It was Celebrían that would be standing in as her Mother later on in the ceremony, and there was no other way Caen would have it.
Celebrían knocked on the door and opened it at that moment and Caen was relieved to see her. Caen stood up and embraced her mother, who dropped a kiss on Caen's forehead. "Are you ready?" she asked. Caen, incredibly nervous and full of anticipatory excitement, nodded. Caen turned to look in the mirror to check her appearance. Someone who looked incredibly like her, but who was much more beautiful, stared out of the mirror at her. Celebrían touched her arm. "You are beautiful," she assured her.
Caen took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."
Arwen had been the first family member Caen spoke with after her trial. She had known that it would not be easy to speak with her sister… but she had not expected it to be so hard. Painful, it certainly had been, however.
"Arwen," Caen said, rapping her knuckles on Arwen's open door. Arwen looked up wordlessly from her work, setting the cloth on her lap. She said nothing, clearly unsure of what could be said. Not knowing what else to say, Caen chose the most obvious question: "What are you making?" she asked, truly curious.
Her conversation starter worked. "A standard," Arwen replied, "for Aragorn," she explained. She was not very far along in the process, but Arwen had made decent progress on a tree. Caen nodded, realizing that this topic would not be discussed any further. Arwen set the standard to the side and stood to stand in front of Caen. "Walk with me?" she asked, motioning towards the door. Caen nodded, and they set a course for outside, where they walked in silence for a few minutes, both perhaps contemplating how to begin their conversation.
"When do you leave?" Arwen asked, though she already knew the answer.
"In three days' time," Caen answered simply.
"Why are you not with Legolas?" Arwen asked then. Caen sighed, realizing she would have to tell Arwen why she had come to visit.
"I… he told me to find you," Caen admitted. "He told me I need to say…"
"Goodbye," Arwen finished, nodding to herself, the realization kicking in that this would be the last time that they would speak.
"Arwen, I-"
"You have already apologized, Caen. I do not want to hear another apology from you," Arwen cut her off, almost harshly.
"Oh," Caen replied, nearly speechless. "Arwen, I do not want to say goodbye to you… not now. Not when I have treated you so terribly for so long. I wish that you-"
"I have made my choice," Arwen said firmly. "I have said this a thousand times and if I have to, I shall say it a thousand times more. I will not sail. This will be our goodbye, Caen," Arwen said, her voice full of determination and a weariness that had come from years of defending herself to their father.
"I know," Caen replied weakly. "I just wish that we could have many more years like we used to have when we were young."
"I wish that too," Arwen agreed. "But Caen, I am happy in knowing that you have returned to us, and I will be happy knowing that for the rest of my life."
Caen blinked back tears, and managed to say more or less levelly, "I love you, baby sister. Do not ever forget that." The two embraced for a long time, crying quietly to themselves.
"Goodbye, sister," Arwen said, placing her hands to Caen's cheeks and cradling her face. "I will remember you fondly."
"May your steps lead you to ever to joy," Caen replied, no longer attempting to hide her emotions. "You will be a glorious Queen of Men, my sister. The best queen that Aragorn could wish for."
"Thank you," Arwen replied with a heavy heart. "I love you," she added as Caen stood.
"I love you too," Caen agreed, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.
Those were the last words Caen had ever said to her sister. Upon her departure three days later, Caen left without speaking to Arwen again. They had said all they had needed to, and no more. She bitterly regretted not hugging her again, not kissing her cheek again, not being able to tell her every day that she loved her and that she thought that she made the right choice – no matter how bittersweet the choice turned out to be, but Caen could not. She could never. She could only whisper the words to the wind and hope it made it all the way back to Middle Earth.
Caen felt overdone. She knew she was beautiful – but really, were the crown of leaves and berries necessary? And what about this dress – could she not get married in her day dress? All of this pomp and circumstance was really unnecessary. Ridiculously unnecessary, actually.
And really – was it that important to have this ceremony so far into the woods? If she was getting married in this nice dress, and this nice dress had a ridiculous train trailing along behind her, was it not only counterproductive but also downright silly to have to progress about a mile into the forest to the exact right clearing for the ceremony? Come on. The dress would get dirty!
And now that she was on a roll thinking about this ceremony, Caen realized how absolutely crazy it was to get married at all. She and Legolas were doing just fine not being married. They were living together in their little talan – although Legolas hadn't built a very little talan; that took some getting used to. It was nearly the first thing that he did when he arrived! – and they were having a lot of sex and they were having a grand old time just being together. What was the point of getting married? Was it not totally ridiculous? Was it not –
Whuh.
Caen's breath caught in her throat. It was dark, the moonlight barely breaking through the canopy of trees. But that hardly mattered: the clearing in the forest, that was traditionally used for ceremonies of all kinds, was decorated with hanging lanterns befitted with colored glass, lighting up their little world in color. There were flowers hanging from tree branches on delicate strings interspersed among the colored lanterns, looking like little dewdrop stars amongst many moons. There was no seating available; instead, the elves in attendance were all standing in two bunches, creating an aisle through the middle of the guests. Caen knew she would have to only walk a little more – just through the guests. And then she would be able to see Legolas. And, depending on how she felt, get married to him.
Right now? She was thinking that getting married was a really stupid idea, but one that she wasn't entirely averse to. Caen was still walking, walking, walking herself down that aisle. And there, at the end, stood Legolas.
Marriage? Sounding like a better and better idea all the time.
Legolas was dressed in the forest greens of his people and he looked positively regal. Well, he was a royal, but most of the time he seemed a lot more down to earth than would be expected. At this moment, however, he appeared to be every inch the prince that he had been raised to be.
He, too was wearing the crown of berries and leaves, and he, too, was wearing the same "I cannot believe this" expression that Caen knew that she had plastered all over her face.
Caen also knew the exact moment that Legolas saw her, because his eyes spoke volumes about how he felt. There was love, pure love there. And lust, never believe that lust was far from his mind! Especially considering the herbal treatments he had undergone prior to the ceremony. They were supposed to put the lovers into a state so that they could connect with the earth better, although Caen had a suspicion that it was to make them more cooperative. When in such a state it was harder to run away.
Not that Caen really wanted to run away at this point. No, at this moment she was rather impatient – start the ceremony already!
The ceremony was pretty boring, actually.
Legolas and Caen's hands were bound first with silver rope, and then by golden rope to signify the bond that they were going to create and to share for their lives from that moment forward. Words were spoken, gifts exchanged… and finally, everyone left.
Life was great, Caen thought to herself. Life was perfect. Every day should be this wonderful! It was only after the guests had filed out and the echoing noises of celebration had faded into the distance that, unbidden, a memory of when times were not so great resurfaced.
Legolas and Caen were hard at work on their home again – a day like any other day, really, blended into a series of days that were very much alike in the cadences of work. Caen tended to an ever-expanding garden while Legolas was up in the trees. Caen assisted where she could and interfered where she felt she must ("That window should not face north, silly elf – where will my potted flowers get any sunlight?"), but Legolas did most of the heavy lifting. While they were building, Caen and Legolas lived out of the home that Caen had created for herself instead of moving closer to where many other elves lived, to the chagrin of Thranduil in particular.
The routine they had fallen into was an easy one, but Caen was afraid that the tensions building between the pair would soon become a larger problem. It was little things here and there – Caen preferred a little time to herself tending her garden, but Legolas wanted to spend every hour with her. In the evenings, Legolas whittled little carved animals and got the wood shavings all over Caen's meticulously clean floor. One of the only things they agreed on was that loving and not fighting was preferable. They bickered and argued and while the subject matter was not heavy, the heart that Caen carried was.
They had fought so hard and so long for each other that this rough patch was hard to deal with.
Caen was not sure what she thought about him anymore. She loved him, she knew that, but it was so hard to love him all the time. Not when he was so stuck in his own head. He rarely ever talked about the war, and Caen could tell that the war had changed him. His priorities were straight, but for the past few months that they had been living together, Legolas seemed unaware of the ways that the years had changed Caen too.
"Caen," Legolas called from far up in the tree. "Can you come up here?"
"Just a moment," Caen responded. She stood, dusted the dirt off of her skirts, and climbed the ladder up to the platform. The basic structure was built – there was a floor, there were walls, there were several bedrooms (Legolas insisted that there be at least four bedrooms, Caen wondered exactly what size circus Legolas wanted to inhabit their home), but the atmosphere of their talan was very open. It was much more beautiful and complex than Caen's talan, which suited her single, solitary life very nicely.
"What do you want?" Caen inquired, once she surfaced and noticed the most recent changes (which mostly consisted of posts and lintels of doorframes, carved with beautiful precision by her handsome elf)
"I just wanted to hold you," Legolas said sweetly, drawing her into his warm embrace. Caen melted a little, her worry about their relationship melting away. The moments like this made their wait so worth it. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his hair. He smelled like he always did: of the forest.
"Just hold me?" Caen hinted. She felt Legolas' smile.
"And kiss you, and love you," he added without hesitation. With a light touch of his fingers under her chin, he angled Caen's face up so that he had access to her lips, and they spent a long time reveling in each other's taste. "Come, look here," Legolas said, taking her hand and pulling her over to a door. He gestured to the posts, on which there were nine figures carved into the wood: four hobbits, two men, a wizard, a dwarf, and an elf – all carefully and painstakingly detailed figures.
"A beautiful tribute," Caen said proudly. Just as Caen had taken up gardening, Legolas had switched his hobby from fletching to woodcarving. Her elf would make their home more beautiful than she could have ever expected. "I do not think that Mithrandir's nose is quite crooked enough, though," she teased. Legolas shrugged.
"I am sure Mithrandir will not mind," he said casually. Caen took a few moments to study the images closer and admire the progress Legolas was making. But even then, Caen had hoped that he would be farther along with their home by now. She voiced this to him. Instead of giving her an estimate of when their talan would be built as she had hoped, he got defensive.
"Caen, I am building as quickly as I can. There is only so much that I can accomplish in a day," he said.
"With the amount of time you spend up here, I would expect you to be farther along with this. It is little details like this that keep you back," Caen gestured to the doorway. It was beautiful, no doubt about it, but it clearly took hours of preparation and work to execute correctly. "Can you not do that later?"
"Construction of a home does not work like that, Caen. You should know better than that," Legolas criticized. "Every little detail is important and valuable to the overall aesthetic of the finished piece," he defended.
"Yes, but," Caen stepped away from him and brusquely strode across the platform. "Your pace frustrates me. I am a patient elf-"
Legolas interrupted: "You have not always been so patient, Caen," he said in a low voice. It was not so much his question of her patience that offended her so much – it was rather the question of her past character, the one that she had long since buried. In that voice, Caen had heard all of her past sins resurface and she couldn't believe that those words had escaped his lips. Those simple words had brought to the surface a wave of emotion that she had wanted to forget.
"How dare you!" Caen exclaimed in shock. She was hurt, deeply. She was in shock, Legolas had been supportive of her ever since he had arrived and she thought it was unfair that he chose this moment to use her past sins against her.
"You cannot play the victim this time, Caen," Legolas warned. Caen truly did not know who this elf was, standing before her. It certainly was not the man she loved. Who had she been waiting for all these centuries? Where was that elf?
"When have I ever played the victim?" Caen snapped. "Even when I was not… not myself… I have only ever taken responsibility for my actions."
"You lie," Legolas snarled. "You lied to me, you lied to your family, and you lied to yourself."Legolas stood there stiffly with his arms pinned to his side. He was so enraged, and Caen had never seen this side of him before. Where had his argument come from? Why were they fighting? Caen desperately wanted it to stop, and slammed her hands up over her ears in an attempt to make his words stop echoing around her head.
"Who are you?" Caen whispered brokenly. This was not the elf that she had fallen in love with. This was not the elf that she had waited two centuries for. This was not Legolas. She could not deal with this any longer.
Caen left.
Caen did not know what made these thoughts return. Their fight had separated them for what seemed like an entire Age, but in reality, it was only for a couple of days. Caen had realized then that her temper was just as fiery as before, and Legolas' temper was its equal in every way. Caen had wanted and expected everything to be perfect between the two of them, and Legolas had held the same expectation of her. It was after this fight that they both realized the truth: Their years apart had changed them in countless ways. Legolas had been through a war, and Caen had warred with herself. Legolas had lived an entire life away from her, and she thought that the brief time that they had shared in Middle Earth together would have been enough to solidify their relationship in Valinor. The reality was that actually, they did not know each other anymore.
That fact had taken them much time to grasp, and it was only after this realization they were able to truly begin their relationship. Things had not gone great all the time, and it was far from a smooth process, but eventually they had recaptured what they loved about each other and they had made it this far.
Caen knew their relationship would make it, still.
There were to be witnesses, two each for Legolas and Caen. Legolas had elected Thranduil and Elladan to be his witnesses, and Caen had chosen Celebrían and Elrond. Elrohir lingered as well, despite not being chosen, as it seemed that the twins were inseparable.
"Leave, Elrohir," Celebrían chastised her son, placing both hands on his back and trying to push him out of the circle.
"I think I won't, Mother," he said, resisting the force his mother exerted without much effort.
"Elrohir," Celebrían warned, placing more pressure on his shoulders in an attempt to make him leave.
"Fine, fine. If I must, I will leave," he said, holding up his hands and stepping backward and out of the circle.
Although it seemed that neither newlywed had noticed what was going on, unexpectedly, Legolas spoke up from his position in the center of their circle, where he was standing with Caen, still roped together by the wrist. "You must."
"Yeah, goodbye," added Caen, although neither of them broke their intense eye contact. Thranduil chuckled under his breath, his only verbal contribution since the ceremony had ended. Elrohir left the circle, presumably to make his way back to the halls to join in the celebrations already underway. Weddings were never a small occasion.
"Shall we begin?" Elrond suggested, noting with keen eyes that the newlyweds were having a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. Their interlocked gazes and the way that Legolas' fingers kept rubbing Caen's were evidence to their desire, among other slightly more evident physical proof. It was not entirely their fault – the herbal incenses and potions they had been exposed to earlier in the day limited their inhibitions and heightened their sexual awareness of the other. This coming-together signified their unification and dedication to the other. The witnesses were there to, well, witness.
"Yes, can we?" Caen said, rather impatiently. Elladan chuckled, not inconspicuously.
Elrond pulled the silver rope out from nowhere, or perhaps it just seemed like that to Legolas and Caen's dimmed perceptions. They were wholly focused on each other, and nothing else mattered. Elrond motioned for Thranduil and Elladan to untie the golden rope that bound Caen and Legolas' left hands and once they had done this, they helped remove the newlyweds' clothes. While their hands were separated, Caen mourned the loss of the contact, but was rewarded by the sight of her husband-to-be's naked body. Thranduil and Elladan tied the silver rope, rejoining their hands. The rope, like the gold rings they now wore, was a physical representation of the bond that they would create tonight.
No spoken words were necessary for this portion of the ceremony – the witnesses were required to stay only for the tying of the rope. Even so, when the silver rope was in place and the official deeds done, Legolas and Caen remained like standing stones, gazing at the other unblinkingly. Both knew that any movement would send them crashing into each other like a violent and unstoppable wave.
With a roll of his eyes, Elladan led the way out of the circle. Caen could have sworn that she heard, "Too damned patient," muttered under his breath. Celebrían followed, after placing her hand on Caen's shoulder to signify her support and approval. Elrond followed Celebrían closely, taking her hand sweetly and kissing her knuckles. They both recalled their own marriage and bonding in that moment and shared a knowing smile. Thranduil was last to leave, and he, too, mimicked Celebrían by touching his son's shoulder, but he also placed a hand on Caen's. With a wry smile, Thranduil pushed the pair toward each other. They stumbled, falling right into each other's arms. It was awkward, because of their bound wrists, but they made a beautiful couple.
"There you go, son." Thranduil chuckled under his breath. Neither Caen nor Legolas responded, and Thranduil ambled out of the circle. A few steps into the forest, he found the other three witnesses as well as Elrohir, lurking and watching the proceedings. "What a bunch of spies we have here," Thanduil noted.
"Well, we thought it was only fitting, considering," Elrohir whispered in reply. His mother bopped him on the back of his head and hissed "Elrohir!"
"What? She was a spy! So we spy on her."
"Move," Celebrían ordered, pointing in the direction that the rest of the guests had gone.
"It was a joke!" Elrohir exclaimed. Celebrían all but dragged him away by the ears. Elladan and Elrond chuckled.
"It was a well-timed joke, at least," Elladan said softly. Elrond gave him a wry smile.
"Do I need to drag you away like your brother?" he warned, though he was more amused than stern. Caen's past was unfortunate, but the wounds she had caused had long since healed, in Elrond's opinion.
"No, I will go willingly," Elladan said, stepping in the same path as his brother.
"Come, Elvenking," Elrond said. Thranduil paused, glancing back at his son and daughter-in-law, who were tangled in a mess of pale limbs on the ground. If he looked hard enough, he could just distinguish the separation of their bodies – they were truly beautiful together, out there in the moonlight.
Without a word, Thranduil quickened his pace to walk by his friend.
Caen laid in Legolas' arms on the damp grass and could not believe that the elf who had his arms wrapped around her (as best he could, considering the rope that still bound them) was now her husband, and she was bound to him. It was during their lovemaking that their souls had finally joined and intertwined irrevocably, and in that moment, Caen had known every thought that Legolas had ever had, every emotion he ever experienced, and ever desire he ever held. He, she knew, experienced the same thing of her. They were truly one, inseparable.
"Narwen," Legolas breathed into her ear. Lady of Fire. This was Caen's Given name, a name he would only ever use in the most intimate and private moments of their lives. Caen's stomach clenched at the name he had just presented her, never before had she felt more loved and blessed. She began to cry, the tears rolling off her cheeks and onto the grass.
"How did I ever come to deserve you, Legolas?" Caen said, her voice cracking from the emotion.
"How did I ever get so lucky as to still have you?" he replied. His words brought back memories of the times she still lived on Middle Earth, the times that were some of the hardest of her life.
"It is not luck, it is the sheer power of will," Caen teased. "You would not have ever let me go," she reminded him. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat create the rhythm of his soul. She could feel her own body's heartbeat and noticed for the first time that their hearts beat as one. She smiled into his chest, and whispered softly, "Can you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Legolas asked,
"The synchronicity of our hearts… it is beautiful. We no longer are two beings, but one." Caen sighed, so content and in the moment that she did not realize that Legolas had flipped her onto her back and was leaning over her again until she was looking up at his face.
"We may be one united soul, but we are still two bodies… we should fix that," he suggested with a steaming look. Caen responded by meshing her lips to his, and once again they became one under the gazes of the immortal stars.
After a time, Legolas and Caen left the circle, barely able to take their hands off of each other.
"Must we join the festivities?" Caen whined. She ran one hand up Legolas' back and he shivered. After taking a deep, centering breath, he replied,
"Yes, unfortunately we must at least make an appearance. But…" Legolas stopped then and kissed Caen lazily for a few seconds, "nobody expects us to remain there for long," he added huskily. Caen's eyes flashed as she thought about what the rest of the night would entail.
The two of them had already removed the silver rope as it was no longer necessary, but they would treasure the braided cord forever. The two of them felt now even more drugged than they had upon entering the circle, but now they were drunk on their lovemaking, the herbs and potions having mostly worn off already.
"That is good," she muttered, "because I have plans for you." Legolas quirked one eyebrow, but did not reply, because they had just stepped into the light of the lanterns. In the gentle light, there was a crowd of elves who were already deep into the barrels of the finest Dorwinion wine that Thranduil could find. The food that had been provided had already been ravaged by the partygoers and the only items left on the tables were the scraps. As Legolas and Caen were illuminated by the lantern lights, the whole crowd let out a great cheer and they were jerked out of each other's embrace and whisked away. Congratulations were shouted at them from left and right, and Caen felt rather dizzy, being washed around like waves between faces she recognized and faces that she didn't.
Everyone was having a good time, and she was glad to see that their union, the first one in Valinor since she had arrived, was being so well received. She was embraced and she was congratulated and she eventually found herself deposited at the feet of Elrond and Celebrían. Celebrían folded Caen into her embrace and she whispered, "I'm so proud of you," into her ear. "You've come such a very long way." Caen's eyes misted a little and she hugged her adoptive mother tightly. She felt someone touch her back, and turned to see that Legolas, too, had made his way through the crowd and back to her side. She took his hand and laced their fingers together, knowing with all certainty that they would never be apart again.
"You will always be happy together," Elrond said to them with a touch of foresight, leaning forward and kissing Caen's cheek. When he drew back and slipped an arm around his wife, his eyes remained locked with Caen's. The truth and certainty of his statement glowed in his eyes, and Caen felt reassured that everything would be as it should, for evermore.
The End.