Chapter Eight
Matlar had given up trying to sleep in his own room, every hour had him back to check that Orophin was sleeping peacefully and had not given up on breathing in his absence. The healers, Leoa among them said he was a fool and that Orophin would recover. Not entirely, they dared not lie to him. Matlar had taken to sitting on the edge of the bed, Orophin's healthy hand in his, all ideas of sleep forgotten as he kept watch.
The footsteps alerted him before the gentle knock on the door, Orophin had been put in a small antechamber close to the healers' offices and the door was left unlocked.
"May I disturb?" a soft voice asked from the doorway. Matlar turned around, smiling.
"Yarna." She slipped her arm around his shoulders as she bent down next to the bed. Her face was strained, more so than it had been when she had left but it was a welcome sight. "We missed you." When his siblings had been scattered two years before, sent to the edges of the world to fight their enemy he had been so afraid that none of them were coming back. Hestlean had not.
Sensing his train of thought she squeezed his shoulder before pulling a chair near.
"It was no seven year siege this time." That was true, three thousand years ago their parents' generation had besieged Barad-dûr for seven years. A short end to a war they had been fighting for over an age. "Legolas nearly left Aragorn each time news reached him." Matlar chuckled lightly.
"And we called Hestlean the headstrong one." Both of their faces fell at the thought. "How are you faring?"
"He was dead to me the day he left," she replied. Matlar did not call her out on her lie. "Did we teach Legolas prose? His letters have a similar writing style to a dry rock."
"I shall go ahead and blame you for that." No doubt Legolas would have written to her in a way that resembled approaching her with a long stick, ready for her to snap at any moment. "Do not tell me you were perfectly composed when you read Celeborn's letter." Yarna stared at the floor instead of replying. "I thought not."
"The Enemy is dead, yet now we fight among ourselves."
"It is better than doing so whilst we are at war." Matlar brushed a strand of hair back from Orophin's cheek. "No one knows what will happen now, do they?"
"No, but we are all gathering around like cautious puppies around their master before a storm." Yarna sighed, pulling the travel plait that had held her hair up out and letting it fall across her shoulders. "Mayra and Hestlean started something, the idea that the Sindar have no right to rule the Silvan realms. An idea used against the Noldor more than once."
"An idea used between the Noldor," Matlar hastened to add.
"True. Mayra hated Elrond and the Lords of Imladris, by extension Galadriel and Celeborn. Hestlean's quarrel was with Legolas. They are gone, but those who take up their call will not be so specific. Wanting Elrond, Legolas, even your father dead is one thing. Wanting to cast down every Sindar or Noldor lordship in Middle Earth? As Hestlean proved, that is the basis for another Alqualondë." Matlar shuddered at the name. The first kin-slaying, when elf killed elf.
"It will not come to that," Matlar said at last. "Never. Father is not cruel, there is no discontent, and no Doom foretold against us."
"No. Then why must I plan out our game with Soliel and Serwen? Why did I feel as if I had walked back into Mordor when I stepped into the Hall?"
"Because you have disliked Serwen for years and you are jealous that Father heeds Soliel's counsel when he dismisses yours out of hand. You are tired and still have shadows clinging to your hair."
"Anyone in armour innately distrusts people," Orophin murmured sleepily. Matlar ran a soothing hand along his pale cheek instinctively. "You both talk too loudly."
"Forgive me, I should go and find something less distrustful to wear." Yarna shot them both a smile and shut the door on her way out.
"Matlar?" He turned to Orophin, smiling down at him gently. "She is in danger here without Legolas. Saruman will not easily be forgotten." The effects of Saruman's betrayal would have been more widely felt in Lórien, enflamed by Lady Galadriel's hatred for the White Wizard. Nonetheless, Yarna's adopted name was only going to hurt her. "She- must distance herself from Isengard."
"Iseniel. Daughter of the Isen. Eorl gave her that name before the fortress was given to the wizard. It does not matter now, you should rest." That only served to make Orophin stir even more and attempt to sit up.
"It matters. You have to play a part in this, instead of sitting here with me. I am not going to die, my love." His words were faint and every one of them hit Matlar. He knew Orophin was right and accepted the gently hand that found his wrist. "Yarna and her daughters will be the first they come for, if not the reason. What better way to rid the realm of the Sindar than call them Noldor? Legolas would be tainted, and so would you for marrying me, the subject of a Noldo, the niece of Fëanor: no less." Matlar opened his mouth to protest. "Let, me, finish." Orophin's voice came in short gasps as he sagged back. "We do- not know what will happen. We just, have to keep her safe." His eyes fluttered shut as the effort of being awake wore him out. "Matlar?"
"Melda?"
"It is cold in here." Matlar stood immediately to close the door and find the draft. "Idiot. That was your cue." Sheepishly he lay down gently next to him, wrapping his arms around the now thin and cold figure. Orophin was asleep within moments, his head cradled in the crook of Matlar's neck.
