Forever Afternoon
Chapter Ten
Word Count: 3,280
Rating/Disclaimer/Summary: Same as chapter 1, really
Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in posting this. I had family I hadn't seen in years come to town at the beginning of the week, and I got extra hours at work at the end of it, and so I have had very little time to write, edit, or post all week. It took a lot longer to get this up than I would have liked.

Also I need to apologize because I didn't have anything to include from Aragorn this time. He will be back in the next chapter and the story will also move into the events of the fellowship.

Mistakes and Conflicts

"They are gone."

Legolas nodded numbly, for he was aware of what his captain had already told him. He had not wanted to believe it, but he could not mistake it, either. Everything that was theirs when they came to the palace was gone, and the gifts that they had been given had been piled neatly upon the table, left behind with a note in Sérëdhiel's handwriting that would say much what her brother's had centuries ago. He did not understand. They did not have to leave. He had told her that.

He did not know why they always left, but he knew next time he would do more to make them stay. The whole palace felt different without Thenidriel, like hope had left with her, and he did not want to believe they knew that would happen when they left.

"This is addressed to you," Ehtyarion said, and Legolas looked at him, feeling a surge of pity when he realized that Ehtyarion had no note of his own. His nephew had left without saying anything to him as well, and Legolas could not imagine that pain, not when Nostalion was all the other elf had left of family.

He opened up the paper, getting more of a message than he had expected.

Legolas, gwador,

I hope someday you will understand why we had to leave again, though sometimes I doubt it when you are as optimistic as you are. You would believe that we could all find some sort of place where we can all coexist, and it is a beautiful dream that I think we would all want to share with you, but it is not the life we lead.

Whether you spoke for us or not, eventually what happened when you were taken captive by Ogol would be known to all, and not even Varyar's actions in the end could redeem him in most people's opinions. I know that he would not think himself redeemed, either.

I could not allow us to trespass here any longer, could not allow the lie to continue. You know that keeping your silence would only end in greater anger and betrayal when the truth was known, and that knowledge pressed against us all, forcing us to go long before we would have liked to have stayed. Greenwood has always been a paradise for us, a sanctuary, but it cannot be that based on a lie.

I know that you are not the only one hurt by our decision to go, but when your father sent Ehtyarion with those knives, we knew that we had stayed too long. Such a gift was always one that Varyar did not feel worthy of, and Nostalion cannot take them. Your father's gratitude is misplaced—Varyar did little to save your life that day we met, and Nostalion would not take something for a life he put in danger.

Nor would he want to be reconciled to his uncle, I am afraid. He feels responsible for his mother's death—as his father lured her away from her home and used her to create his perfect assassin, a fact that broke her heart and led to her fading—I think. Even I do not know all the details there, as Nostalion confides in no one.

I am sorry, but we are not comfortable taking advantage of your hospitality any longer. Please tell Ehtyarion that we are sorry as well.

I hope someday we will meet again—I am certain that we will.

Until then, gwador, my love and that of Idhrenion and Alassë and even Thenidriel. See? She slobbered on this page just for you.

Sérëdhiel

Legolas folded up the paper, almost able to smile. She had done her best to take the sting out of her departure, though he still felt the pain. He looked to Ehtyarion, holding out the letter. "She does mention you in it. I do not know that—I think you might want to read it, to know that you were not—that it was not anything you did."

"Oh? Then why did they depart after I tried to give my nephew a gift?"

"A feeling that they were unworthy of it—and of a place in your family."

Ehtyarion frowned, taking the letter from Legolas and reading it over. He looked up, troubled. "What is she speaking of? What did my nephew do? What did Firyavaryar do?"

Legolas grimaced. He should have known Ehtyarion would notice those words, even if Sérëdhiel had not said anything directly.

Firyavaryar felt something pulling at him, and he did not want to look to see what it was. The orcs must have been back, Ogol had decided it was their turn—or was it Draugminaion who had sent them this time? He could not remember. In the dark, all the pain blended together, and he did not know what was real and what had happened when. He could not tell. Nothing was right, but everything hurt. That much he did know.

He shoved it back, and someone yelled.

"Varyar! Careful!"

He forced his eyes open, frowning over at the orc. No one would forgive him for thinking that was an orc, not with the way he saw them all fussing over it and smiling and making fools of themselves. He narrowed his eyes at the baby, and for some reason he could not understand, Thenidriel laughed.

Alassë held her daughter against her chest. "You could have hurt her."

"I know that," he said coldly, shaking his head. "I thought that thing was too small to walk or even crawl yet, but every time I look down it is on me."

"She rolls," Sérëdhiel said, shaking her head and passing Alassë the blanket that Thenidriel was supposed to be swaddled in. "It happens."

"It shouldn't," he said, rising. "I could kill that thing any time it passes near me—"

"Stop calling my daughter a 'thing,'" Idhrenion said, his voice dark. "I do not care if you raised me. You do not call my daughter a thing."

"Keep your daughter away from me, then," Firyavaryar spat. He glared at the child, hating that insipid smile. He did not know why that creature seemed to want him, but he did not want her near him. They had all been amused at first that she liked her namesake uncle so much, but he had not been, and he did not know why they had insisted on giving her to him to hold, but now it was worse. "I could kill her without even realizing she's there, Idhrenion. Is that what you want? You know better than to leave a gwinig unattended. You want to lecture me on what I call her because you are her ada? Act like a damned father, then."

"Varyar!" Sérëdhiel cried, taking hold of his arm and dragging him away from the others. "What are you doing? This is not like you, and do not say it is Thenidriel. It is difficult to travel with her, yes, and she has changed our lives in many ways, but that does not merit this anger—and you would never have said such things to Idhrenion before, not knowing how he worries about his role as Thenidriel's father."

"There is no cure," Nostalion said, causing his wife to jerk even though most of the time she knew when he was there. "We did not find it before we left."

"No cure?" She whispered, and Varyar found himself glaring at Nostalion this time. He had not spoke to anyone in his family about the cure that Legolas thought Ogol had, and he did not think that Nostalion would have been foolish enough to do so, but then it was Sérëdhiel that he had told. He was weaker to her than he should be.

"Not that we could find."

"And it very well probably never existed in the first place," Firyavaryar said, shaking his head. "It does not matter. What I said was true—they need to watch that child better."

"It is not only that," Sérëdhiel said. "You are sleeping with your eyes closed again. Are the dreams back? The ones of Ogol? Is that why you shoved Thenidriel away back there?"

Sometimes he hated how well Sérëdhiel knew him. Sometimes he thought he hated her. He turned and walked away. He knew that Nostalion would find him even if he did not follow now, but he needed to be away from the others until he was calm again.

"You let him walk away?"

Sérëdhiel sighed. "Sometimes one can only battle so much at a time, little brother. We need to let Varyar have time. He will return. He always does."

"He almost died," Idhrenion reminded her, and she winced, but she could not convince herself it was right for her or anyone else to follow Varyar now. Nostalion would find him when they needed him if he had not returned on his own by then.

"We cannot travel like this with Thenidriel. We must find some place to make shelter—a place to stay," Eruaistaniel said, her eyes on her hands. "If we were not camped so closely together, she could not roll on him and upset him."

Alassë glared at her. "It is not Thenidriel's fault. She is only a baby."

Eruaistaniel lowered her head, unable to look at her cousin. Sérëdhiel gave Alassë a dark look. They needed to encourage Eruaistaniel when her spirit returned to her, not crush it further. Varyar could do so much for that, but he thought his presence upset her, so he stayed away from her.

"We do need to have you settled," Nostalion said, and everyone looked toward him. When Varyar was absent, he was their leader, though he left it to Sérëdhiel to do most of the talking. "Given the child's age, an elven realm would be preferable."

"It would not matter what age Thenidriel is," Alassë said. "An elven realm would always be preferable. None of us much care for living near edain, though some of us have more reason to dislike it, and we all know how badly that went the last time we tried it. We cannot do that again."

"I did not say we would. None of us did."

"You do not have to," Idhrenion said, shaking his head. "We all know Firyavaryar. We know he will not agree to go to into any elven realm. He cannot go to Greenwood because he betrayed Legolas. He cannot go to Imladris because he betrayed Legolas. He cannot go to Lórien because of that elleth that Ogol killed."

"Varyar would tell you that it is not necessary for him to be with you."

"Not necessarily?" Idhrenion demanded. "Varyar is our brother. He is more than our brother. We need him with us."

"Yet all he wants is for us to be safe. He would not have to come with us into the realm if he did not want to join us," Sérëdhiel said, and her younger brother frowned. "He is the one that is unwelcome—he is also believed to be dead."

"No. It was difficult enough when he was with us in Greenwood and yet would not come to us at the palace. He cannot stay somewhere other than where we are. We are a family. We are supposed to be together."

"We are not elflings anymore," she reminded him. "We do not need to be with Varyar constantly. Let him go back to Greenwood and continue his penance if that is his wish."

"Yes, let him," Alassë said, looking down at Thenidriel. "I cannot believe you are so determined to stay with him—you were just as angry with him as I was a moment ago."

Idhrenion sighed. "He is my brother, and I cannot forget that even if I do get angry with him. I love him, and I do not want to raise our child without him because—he is not like that, not most of the time. Something is wrong. Sérëdhiel knows. There is something."

She nodded. "Yes, there is. I do not think that we should discuss that, though. It is not—"

"Tell me why I should forgive him," Alassë said. "Tell me why we always forgive him. He is not that wonderful—no one would call him that, but you always forgive him. He could have killed our baby, and yet he is forgiven."

Sérëdhiel knew that Varyar would not want her to say this, but she must try to repair this rift. "There is still no cure for the poison within him."

"There never was one."

"No," Nostalion said, "but something happened to make him believe that Ogol had one. Ogol claimed to have Draugminaion, and he did not die instantly after Varyar bit him. Legolas believed there was a cure, and I think Firyavaryar allowed himself to believe it as well."

Eruaistaniel put a hand to her mouth. Alassë winced. Idhrenion cursed. "Now he has even less reason to want to live, and he already does not want to. What are we to do?"

Sérëdhiel sighed. "I think he must do what he can to atone for his betrayal. That is all I know of."

"I would say that you could tell him that—no, you cannot. He would not see it as a reason for hope, only for more pain," Eruaistaniel said, rising and leaving the camp.

Sérëdhiel turned to Nostalion, touching his arm. "Take care of Varyar for us, and we will see you when you come to Imladris."

"You are not—"

"I will lead them to Imladris. I can, and I will. Thenidriel will be welcome and safe there while we look for a more permanent place and Varyar does what he must. I do not want to be separated from either of you, but we are all strong enough to survive this."

Nostalion nodded. He kissed her, and she told herself that they would not be separated for long, even if she knew that was a lie.

"Filthy elves. We hates elves."

Legolas grunted, as tired of that refrain as all the elves that guarded Gollum were. These patrols were becoming the worst part of any of their lives, but at least they no longer had the pure monotony of watching him in his cell. Whatever he had told Mithrandir must have been important for the Istari to rush off the way he had, but that still left Gollum in their care, a fact that none of them liked.

"I do not think it is wise to take this thing out of the dungeons."

Legolas nodded. "Your concerns have been noted, Ehtyarion, but we cannot keep him locked in a dungeon forever. Though he has become quite twisted, he has not committed any offense against us."

"No offense?" Ehtyarion demanded. "How can you say that? We know that you were attacked by that thing more than once when you brought it to our land. How can you claim that he did not commit an offense against us? He did. It was against you."

Legolas sighed. He thought that he knew the true cause of the captain's upset—the abrupt departure of his nephew and the others in the night, followed by Legolas' thoughtless decision to let him read Sérëdhiel's letter. "I know it was, but not every offense against me needs to be punished so severely."

"Because you will forgive everyone who betrays you?"

"Firyavaryar did not want to betray me, and he did kill Ogol. He died. Why does this have to be so hard for everyone else to accept?" Legolas asked, though he did not know that it was Varyar who upset Ehtyarion as much as it was his nephew. He had wanted to reconcile with Nostalion, but he had not known of the younger elf's part in Legolas' betrayal, only in his rescue, and he did not like knowing what he did of his sister's child.

"You are being a fool."

"Being angry with Nostalion or with me will not bring your sister back. You know her fate was an unhappy one, but I do not think her son's was any better. I think in his way, he has spared you of knowing how it was for her, and he did not do what he did to disappoint you or hurt you. He may have been willing to exploit your concerns as an uncle for a while, but not for his own sake—for Thenidriel's. We were all fools for that gwinig."

"And now that gwinig is out there, somewhere, far from the protection of the elves and at risk."

"Ehtyarion, you cannot protect everyone."

"Indeed. I cannot even protect the prince I am sworn to protect."

"That is not your fault but mine," Legolas told him, for he often went out without his personal guards. He preferred to see to his own safety rather than relying on them, and he found their presence stifling at times. When he got in trouble, it was not their fault for failing to protect him. It was his for going alone.

"I do not think that—"

"Orcs!" One of the other guards called, and Legolas whirled, taking out his bow. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver and lined it up even as he searched for the attack. Things had been so quiet since before they captured Gollum that he feared they were all unprepared for what was upon them.

Around him, Legolas could hear arrows slicing through the air, the cries of orcs as they rushed into the elves. He tried to focus on the ones that he himself was fighting, not pausing long between each arrow he let fly, but as he readied his third, something hit him in the back, and he heard the familiar snarl of Gollum as the creature hissed at him.

"Filthy elves. Filthy."

Legolas turned, trying to get at the creature on his back. He couldn't reach it, but when he did, he would probably kill it. Gollum cried out, screeching in his ear, and Legolas looked back at Ehtyarion with relief as the creature fell off of him.

The captain nodded, but before they could come close to celebrating, he was attacked by four elves. Legolas grabbed his knives, going for the orc nearest to him, meeting blade with blade. He heard Ehtyarion grunt, and he grew angry to see blood on the captain's leg, weakening him for the others that had attacked him. The orcs were more vicious than he remembered, and Legolas had to wonder if they were somehow here for Gollum or if that thing was just taking advantage of the situation, but why? Why would the orcs help him when they had supposedly tortured him?

Something bit his leg, and Legolas swiped at it with his knife, but Gollum dodged the blade, going for his back again, and before Legolas could reach it, the wretch's hands closed around his throat. He twisted his knife up toward the creature's arm, drawing blood but not dissuading it from its grip.

"Filthy elf. We kills you."

"Get away from Legolas," Ehtyarion said, finishing off the orc that forced him to the ground. He shoved it off with a groan, trying to rise despite the wound in his leg.

"Legolas," Gollum whispered, eyes widening. He let go with a hiss, running away from them. Legolas sat up, drawing in a breath with a frown. He rubbed a hand over his arm, uncertain why the creature had fled. He did not think that Gollum would have feared Ehtyarion. Why would he run?