Chapter Eight

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Rest, Legolas," Elrohir urged, as the prince's head lolled against his shoulder, yet his body remained tense as a bowstring. "You are safe. We will not let any harm befall you."

"Nay," Legolas responded in a weary murmur. "I do not wish to rest. Not yet. I will not go. I am not ready; Ada has not come. I cannot rest yet. I will not. I will not cross yet."

"Ssh," the twin soothed, despite the fear clutching at his heart. "There is naught to fear. You are safe."

Legolas found no comfort in his words, though. He could feel the mist pressing in upon the edges of his waking mind, seeking an opening; the briefest of moments was all it would need, and it would claim him. He would not escape again. He had not the strength left to turn back, to resist the call of those waiting arms, of the peace they promised him. Soon, too soon, it would be beyond his control, but not yet… not yet! No, I will not sleep yet! I will not go! I will wait for ada!

Elrohir swallowed back the apprehension rising up his throat as he felt Legolas's body grow increasingly taut. He is afraid…but of what?

He closed his eyes, searching once more for some fell shadow that would provide an answer to his question, but as before, he felt naught of an evil presence. Stymied, Elrohir turned instead to the words Legolas continued to murmur weakly. He will not go? He is not ready? He will not cross? Go where? Ready for what?

But even as he finished the thought, Elrohir guessed the answer. His eyes opening wide with panic, he pulled the prince tighter against him as though he might somehow stay Legolas's soul should it decide to flee without the wood-elf's leave.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Baelorn's eyes slid surreptitiously toward Thranduil as he finished checking the horses' hooves for lodged pebbles. The king remained exactly as he had been set after his son-in-law had all but carried him the remaining distance over the rockslide. One skinned hand still clutched the bread Baelorn had placed in it. The other held tightly to a water skin, which sat just as Baelorn had set it before placing the king's hand atop it. Clearly, neither had yet met the king's lips, as had been the hope.

The king's eyes, fixed upon nothing in particular, were only partially open and glistened still with recent tears. Baelorn could not tell from his vantage point if they were also glazed with sleep or only lost in thought. He prayed it was the former, for Thranduil's mind needed rest. It did not need contemplation. An apprehensive fist clenched in Baelorn's stomach as he considered where the king's thoughts might lead his spirit if the words on the wind had truly shattered his hope.

Nay, he has contemplated and speculated too much already! Baelorn resolved and moved cautiously toward his father-in-law. He would not wake Thranduil if he slumbered, though the king would not be pleased to have precious time squandered in sleep. Baelorn would happily endure Thranduil's ire, but he would not allow the king to wallow in thought. Better that he stay focused on the journey…

"Our people will not lose their king to the call of West; you need not fear it."

Baelorn started at the unexpected sound of Thranduil's eerily calm voice. Hastily composing himself as the king turned an abrupt look up at him, he answered, "I cannot help but fear it if Legolas is…if he has…if…."

"If his soul had fled Middle-earth, and we must return home with naught but an empty shell for burial?" the king finished for him. Baelorn nodded uncertainly, dropping his eyes to escape Thranduil's unnervingly steady gaze.

"He is not all that holds me here," the king asserted. "Mirkwood our forest is now named, yet still it claims a share of my heart - and our people, also. Think you I would abandon them lightly?"

Baelorn's eyes rose at this, but Thranduil continued before he could speak.

"And my daughter and grandson," the king listed; as he tossed away the bread, set aside the water skin, rose to his feet, and stood before Baelorn. His gaze never wavering, Thranduil gripped his son-in-law's shoulder. "And you, ion-nîn, each hold a piece of my heart.

"And you, a piece of mine, Adar," Baelorn softly declared and clasp Thranduil's forearm. "And yet…"

"And yet, you fear the portion that Legolas carries with him is greater than all the rest…that my heart will shatter with its loss," the king ventured to guess. Though Baelorn spoke no words of affirmation, Thranduil saw the answer in his eyes. Dropping his arm, he turned toward Imladris and deliberated a moment, before murmuring, "Indeed, it was a large share my Leaf claimed with his first breath…"

Thranduil's words fell away as his voice cracked, and Baelorn squeezed his shoulder supportively. The king rested a hand atop his son-in-law's and then, gathering himself with a deep breath, spoke again.

"He almost never was, you know?"

"Oh?" Baelorn replied, and smiled indulgently. He knew, of course, for the Queen had oft teased Thranduil with the tale during Legolas's first years, when the king could scarce be separated from the child he had so long resisted begetting.

"I did not want another child, not with the loss of my son and father, and so very many of our people still so near. My heart was too full of grief; there was no room in it for another child…that was what I thought." A slight smile touched the king's lips as his thoughts drifted in memory. "My love persisted, though. New hope - that was what the elves of the Wood needed, she argued. And a new life to herald it as surely as the first green leaves of spring herald the promise of a new year."

"But many a child had already been born, an heir for their king among them," Baelorn observed, dutifully playing his well-rehearsed part in the narration.

"Indeed, a fine heir," Thranduil confirmed, turning his head enough to grace his son-in-law with an affectionate smile. "And a symbol, as was every child, that hope remained in the hearts' of our people…but she argued it was not enough. They needed to know that their king's heart also held hope for the future."

"But did it?" Baelorn asked.

Thranduil fell silent. Gazing again toward Imladris, he took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh.

"It did, though I was not certain of it until his first breath…" he stated, as he strode forward purposely and retrieved the discarded water skin. Turning again to face Baelorn, Thranduil added, vehemently, "And hope will continue to dwell within it even upon his last."

The certainty of the declaration struck Baelorn with enough force to send him reeling. Backing into a horse, he gripped its mane to steady himself as he swallowed hard against the tightening fist in his stomach. It was not enough, though, to prepare him for the king's next words.

"But it would matter little if all hoped faded from it, for where would it flee? No peace awaits it in Aman; Legolas's path leads not there. He journeys where I cannot follow," Thranduil stated matter-of-factly, as he moved steadily to his horse. Gripping its mane firmly, he paused before mounting. "One son is there, and his mother, also. Perhaps Mandos has released them, and they wait to greet me, but never will my elder son know more of his brother than what tales can say, and what can they say? That he laughed? But what of the sound of that laughter? Or the warmth of his smile? Or the light in his eyes? No, no peace will I find in Aman."

A look of grim defiance settling upon his face, Thranduil mounted his horse and, without glancing to see if Baelorn followed, prodded the beast into motion. But after a few steps, he murmured almost too quietly for Baelorn to hear, a hysterical edge creeping back into his voice, "Nay, my peace will be found here…beneath the trees that know the sound of his laughter and the stones that know the soft touch of his feet as he trod its halls… I must let him go, she whispers, and so I must, but not his memory. Nay! I will not go to Aman and let go of his memory!"

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Elladan's brow knit with worry as Elrohir tightened his hold on Legolas. Hastily drawing up alongside the pair, his gaze met eyes wide with alarm and fell at once to the prince. Elladan found nothing new amiss with his friend, though. Perplexed, he flicked his gaze back up to Elrohir.

"What trou…," the question fell away, as the beat of a horse's hooves sounded in the distance. Halting their steeds simultaneously, Elladan and Elrohir passed an apprehensive glance between them. But even as Aragorn gripped his knife handle, the twins grinned broadly with relief.

Legolas's head lifted from Elrohir's shoulder as he felt the sudden shift in tension. It fell back again as the approaching rider drew near enough for round ears to hear the soft tinkle of bells. Legolas swallowed hard against the fresh wave of anxiety rising up his throat in anticipation of the elf lord's first glimpse of him, but he reminded himself consolingly, We would have met soon enough in any case.

"Hail and well met, sons of Elrond, son of Thranduil," Glorfindel bid cheerily, greeting the party with a warm smile. It melted swiftly away, though, as he noted the limp form in Elrohir's arms.

"Hail, Glorfindel. What brings you out on such a rainy day as this?" Elladan replied courteously, but the elf lord seemed not to hear.

Nudging Asfaloth up alongside Elrohir's mount, Glorfindel gently smoothed back Legolas's disheveled hair and tucked the loose locks thoughtfully behind a round ear, before responding absently, "A misplaced gift."

At the feel of the soft caress, Legolas opened his eyes reluctantly and met the elf lord's concerned gaze, while the twins and Aragorn shared a bewildered look between them.

"A misplaced gift?" Aragorn parroted.

"Indeed," Glorfindel confirmed thoughtfully, but his gaze did not lift from Legolas. "It is good to see you, elfling, though I had hoped to find you whole and hale. Still, however we may have you will do for now."

Legolas gazed with wonder at the lack of surprise in Glorfindel's voice and face, earning a compassionate gaze and paternal smile from the elf lord.

Gently cupping the wood-elf's cheek, he whispered, "Fear not, young one. We will find a way to set this right again."

Covering Glorfindel's hand with his own, Legolas smiled faintly, yet the despair in his weary eyes did not lesson. Nay, my friend, you are too late, they whispered to the elf lord. The gift has been given. It cannot be undone.

This will be made well, I swear it! Glorfindel's eyes replied, but Legolas merely sighed softly and turned his head away. Swallowing down his own sigh, Glorfindel glanced up to find three pairs of bemused eyes fixed upon him.

"You know perfectly well that I am far too old now to be so easily taken aback," he teased, with a puckish grin that did not reach his eyes, and not one of the three expressions lightened. Elladan, in fact, deepened his frown and his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he continued to study the ancient elf.

Elrohir, too, scrutinized the elf lord, but he then turned his attention back to Legolas. His eyes met his brother's briefly, though, before shifting downward, and the thought passed between them that it was not age that had prepared Glorfindel for the sight of Legolas's round ears. Nor was it happenstance that he journeyed along their path.

"Glorfindel, what do you know that you do not say?" Aragorn growled, picking up on the twins' sudden wariness.

"Ai, child! All that I know but do not say would take more than your lifetime to tell," Glorfindel replied, with a forced grin, before pensively adding. "But of this…"

The elf lord ran his fingers lightly over Legolas's ear and then abruptly turned Asfaloth back toward the valley. "Come, let us get this one home so that Elrond may see he has not melted in the rain."

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

Thranduil, the breeze whispered in the king's ear. Clenching his fists angrily, he ducked his head into the withers seeking to escape it, but the soft voice found its way to his ears, all the same. Hear me, son of Oropher! Do not let needless grief stop your ears…

Ai! What more would you demand of me? Thranduil hissed angrily. Have you not taken enough?

Nay, Thranduil, the breeze answered. Set aside your anger, for it is misplaced. I have taken naught, yet comfort I could give to you if only you would receive it.

What comfort have you to offer? The king spat in reply. Can you give me my son? For that is all the comfort that I seek, and in naught else may it found.

The breeze sighed mournfully through the rocks, before answering, I bid you let him go so that he might have peace, do not then deny yourself the same.

Lifting his head defiantly, Thranduil sneered, Needless is my grief, you say. Well, cold is your comfort, I say. My ears are stopped. Hide yourself again in your garden; I will hear your words no longer!

Your ears may be stopped, but your heart is not. When you are ready, it knows where to seek the comfort I offer, the breeze whispered and then softly caressed his face before fading away.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Elrohir's heartbeat quickened as the faint sound of Elvish singing reached his ears. Tensing in anticipation, he closed his eyes and reached out, seeking the comfort of his father.

I am here. All will be made well, his father's calm spirit whispered in reply, and the twin shivered with glad relief. Before him, Legolas shuddered also, as a familiar shadow mingled with Elrohir's essence. It was a presence he had come to know well these last days.

Nay! You will not claim me! His mind bellowed at the memory of the hand of swirling mist reaching out to snare him, and the mounting tension that accompanied it – the fear and the anger – pressing in closer and closer, stealing the air from his lungs.

"Nearly there," Elrohir whispered reassuringly as Legolas shuddered. Receiving no indication that his words were heard, he tilted his head away to better see the prince's face and found drooping eyelids blinking heavily. Elrohir gently pressed his cheek to the golden head and murmured, "Soon, my friend, we will be home, and you can rest properly."

"Not yet," Legolas countered in a faint murmur, shifting anxiously.

"Sh, it will not be long now, and we will have you tucked into a warm bed," Elrohir soothed. Thinking him cold, the twin fussed with the blankets bundled around his friend, tucking them as snuggly as he could manage with one hand.

"Not ready. Must wait for ada," Legolas mumbled. Tucking his head into the temporary safety of Elrohir's neck, he quieted, but his trembling did not cease.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

All will be well, peredhil. Be at peace.

Staring at the bright flowers of his garden, Elrond replayed the gentle assurance and tried to hold onto the fleeting serenity that had accompanied it. His mind soon gave way to worry once more, though, and Elrond turned his gaze to the path. It was yet as empty as it had been when last he looked, and a sound that might almost have been a growl, but for its softness, escaped his lips. Closing his eyes, Elrond breathed in long and deeply.

Be at peace.

I will be, Elrond commanded his spirit. I must be! For he will have need of a serene heart to soothe his fear and ease the way.

Elrond inhaled another slow, calming breath, and then another, banishing all thought but that of the movement of air. Far in the distance, his ears caught the faint sound of elves singing in the trees. His mind joined itself to their merry melody, and the disquiet of Elrond's spirit gradually stilled. Then he felt the gentle touch of his son's anxious spirit.

I am here. All will be made well, he soothed. Feeling Elrohir's spirit lighten, Elrond opened his eyes and peered out upon the path. It was still empty, but it would not remain so for much longer.

They will arrive soon enough, his heart whispered, and what must be, will follow as it may. There is no need to hurry it along.

All the same, his feet moved toward the path, drifting along with the Elvish tune over the bridge and into the trees beyond. The song wavered as Elrond halted beneath the boughs - the lord of Imladris did not often venture across the river - but it soon started up again. A slight smile touched his lips as Elrond closed his eyes to better listen to the voices singing eagerly, each louder and more joyous, competing one with another until the song reached its crescendo.

He opened his eyes as the last note slowly faded, and there upon the path, creeping ever n earer, the long-awaited wanderers appeared. Elrond grinned with relief at the sight, but a tendril of fear slithered up his spine as he stepped forward to greet them.

Elrohir smiled as he caught sight of his father waiting upon the road. The expression dimmed, though, as Elrond's spirit abruptly chilled. Feeling a shift in tension, Legolas roused from the weary stupor seeking to claim him. His heavy eyelids, though, refused yet to open.

"You see, you worried for naught, my old friend, for the rain has not melted our merry band of hunters after all," Glorfindel teased as the party halted before the lord of Imladris, but Elrond's keen ears did not miss the troubled edge that lay beneath the light tone. Nor did the pensive shadow darkening the elf lord's gaze escape notice as his eyes met his lord's.

"Indeed, I see that it is so," Elrond responded in kind, but his tone was resigned and his eyes mournful as they peeked past Glorfindel to find Legolas tucked securely in Elrohir's arms.

A fresh shudder raced through Legolas at the sound of Elrond's voice. Nay, Elros, Nay! I cannot cross yet! I am not ready. I must wait for Ada!

He forced his eyes open as fear quickened his already labored breaths, threatening to stop his lungs altogether. His glance flitted to the lord of the Valley and then away. It is Elrond…only Elrond. The comprehension did little to ease the worry niggling at his mind, though.

Circling around Glorfindel, Elrond scrutinized each wanderer as he passed, noting with a subtle frown the unhealthy pallor of the ranger's cheeks and an oddly pensive shadow behind Elladan's eyes. A shadowed darkened Elrohir's features, as well, but it was one of concern and suspicion, and not unexpected. Reaching Legolas's side, Elrond laid a gentle hand upon the wood-elf's knee and gave it a supportive squeeze. Legolas trembled at the touch, and the prince's downcast eyes did not rise to greet him. Seeking to soothe him, Elrond's hand rose toward the golden tendrils that had escaped their braids and fallen forward to veil the wood-elf's face. Legolas tensed further, and his quivering increased. Dropping his arm, Elrond peered instead into his son's penetrating eyes. Meeting them squarely, Elrond mustered a vague semblance of nonchalance and remarked, "I expect a warm fire and food will be most welcome."

"To be sure," Glorfindel declared with a forced smile. "Let us get our younglings thawed and fed and tucked into their beds."

Elrond smiled inattentively as he finally settled his hand against Legolas's thigh, needing the assurances that the wood-elf was really there, and not just part of another vision that would soon fade. He shook his head as the horses sauntered toward the bridge. You cannot cross with him; the way is too narrow. You must let him go.

Elrond finally forced his arm away and dropped back as Elrohir's horse lifted a foreleg to step onto the bridge. His hand clenched tightly as the pair moved slowly away. You see, he does not fade before your eyes. All will be well. We will find a way to make it so.

OOOOOOOOOOOO