Chapter Thirteen

Aragorn kept him in Minas Tirith for a month, keeping his friend by his side to ease the strain of ruling a kingdom that had been at war for generations. Legolas found himself becoming more of an advisor as the days went by although he understood so very little of the economics or politics between the Edain.

Arwen was a thorn in his side, keeping up her smiles and laughter until she glanced his way. He settled his conscience with a picture of Yarna's deathly pale face whenever the look of terror passed over Arwen's. She had done worse than he could ever dream of doing to her. When Yarna returned, which she would be forced to out of the friendship she felt towards the Peredhel, he would hand her his revenge and she would smile, unaware of the carefully constructed pain it caused Arwen. The celebrations following the Queen's announcement left a bitter taste in his mouth, one the wine did not wash away. He laughed and shook Aragorn's shoulder, he even made himself dance with Arwen. When the song ended he knew it was worth it for the flash of fear in her eyes. When he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling before sleep came, he wondered if he was cruel. Yarna, if she knew what he was planning, would plead for him to stop, but she did not know the wrong that had been done to her.

Beyond the horizon his family had been silent for weeks. No news came, not letters of summons from his father or Matlar, not word from his wife. He chaffed at the bit, busying himself in trying to help Aragorn to top himself going mad with frustration. Every morning he pushed his body until it ached, at first against the guard then simply exercising by himself when they realised he did not tire as they did. Erestor would have been proud of how he read, studied, anything to hide the fact that his family were fighting a dangerous game without him.

He was the last elf in Minas Tirith by the time the initial celebrations of Arwen's pregnancy were over. Only Arwen was left and the stares followed them both around, whispers the Men thought they could not hear. Legolas was tired of them, from the Hobbits they had been sweet at first, ones of awe and they soon went when they realised he was simply another member of their company. Boromir's had held more resentment and distrust yet even they had softened over the weeks before his death. Faramir and Aragorn chastised him for not giving them warning when he approached but that was all. The rest of the city, from the courtiers to the sullen faced people in the market place watched him as if he had two heads. He hated having to practice outside with the guard, heads would turn when he hit the targets in ways no one else could and he could hear them saying how unnatural it was to move his body in seemingly three directions at once. So he hid and read and worried, every day the smiles took longer to come.

Until finally he knew something had changed. Aragorn called him to the solar, but he had known before that. Something in the back of his mind, a pressure he had felt before but did not dare allow himself to recognise. Grief, or more specifically, Yarna's grief from far away.

"Legolas." Aragorn was not upset, which relieved him somewhat. His friend would look graver if he had to announce a death that would hurt him. "We were blind to the threat Saruman posed. He has done great evils in the Shire."

"The Shire? Are the Hobbits well?" No, Aragorn would not stand so tall if their friends were dead.

"They are, and brave are all their folk to cast the wizard out. He is dead, stabbed by his creature Gríma." Legolas stopped listening. Saruman was dead. The wizard how had been his father in law, who had raised Yarna, was at last gone. That was the grief he felt, seeping into his mind as she wept, alone in the forest surrounded by those who saw her father as nothing but a traitor. "Mellon nin?"

"I am sorry, Estel. I must leave, I am needed at home now, I have tarried here too long." Yarna needed him and he could not stand to be away from home in the infernal white city for any longer. Aragorn's face fell slightly but he nodded seriously. Legolas almost laughed at his childlike acceptance that the adults had to go and do difficult things.

"Of course. If you can, return in time to greet the child?"

"Naturally." Legolas gave him a broad smile, perhaps as real a one as any he had given in the weeks since Hestlean's death.

Arod made the journey quickly, not as fast as an elven steed but the Rohirim horse was good company. Again he missed Gimli's presence and voice as he cantered over the empty miles. He followed the path Yarna would have taken, avoiding Edoras and Lórien in case he was called upon to stay for any length of time. He hugged the Anduin for most of the way, only leaving it when it passed North Undeep. He did not yet feel ready to see the blackened earth where his brother had fallen. Eventually he saw Mirkwood to the east, having crossed the river. Around him he knew he would find Celeborn's camps, cleansing the forest of evil. He did not dare enter it that far south, it still held shadows he did not want to come across alone.

At the Old Forest Road he came across another traveller, some miles ahead. Legolas could see blond hair spilling from a blue hood and followed the bay horse for hours, never quite managing to catch them. They were an elf, for he saw no saddle and no Man wore their hair that long and free, nor did they allow their womenfolk to traverse the wilds alone. Eventually the rider stopped, having become aware of him and Legolas approached cautiously.

"Legolas? A fine surprise you are." Gandir grinned at him, his sharply carved face twisting so that every part of it joined in. Yarna had the same smile when she tried, her resemblance to her brother would have been remarkable had it not been so ironic.

"As are you. What brings you to Mirkwood? Surely Círdan has you busy." Gandir whistled to his horse and they set off again towards the trees.

"My sister has need of me, or so she said. She calls and I come running, I suppose. Doubtless she would do the same and be of greater use than I." Legolas felt his stomach fall through Arod's back. Yarna had sent for her brother but not for him.

"The use of families. You have heard the news of Saruman?" Gandir nodded.

"The world is glad to be rid of him." Legolas berated himself for forgetting that the wizard had imprisoned Gandir's father, and Gandalf had left Isengard a little worse for wear after refusing to help his fellow Istari betray them to Sauron. It begged the question why Yarna would send for a brother who would not sympathise with her grief.

"Yes," he answered quietly. The world might be glad, but Yarna would not be.

They fell into light conversation for the next three days, passing through the forest without incident. Legolas found himself relieved to be finally going home, the familiar smells of the woods filled his lungs and he allowed himself to smile.

"It is the same with the salt air," Gandir said as they dismounted in the courtyard before the main doors to the halls. "You come down a hill and see the Havens and the smell of the sea fills you up. The gulls too, you only realise they are there when you leave." Legolas suppressed a shudder at the mention of the gulls. He did not want to remember their cries as he walked once more beneath the trees. "I am sorry, my friend." He turned to stare at Gandir who had fixed him with a look of such pity he had to swallow hard. Any elf born in Mithlond would know the signs of sea-longing when the ocean was mentioned.

"Come, let us-" Legolas broke off, turning around. "Yarna." She and Laurina flanked Matlar as they approached. She refused to look at him, giving her brother a faint smile instead.

"You have come straight into a whirlpool, brother," Matlar whispered as they clasped shoulders. "What possessed you to come?" He nodded towards Yarna. "You are a fool, but a lucky one. Father is not here, he has gone to see the border garrisons. You have a day or so. Let us go in, there are too many eyes and ears out here."

Matlar took Gandir to the guest corridor, Laurina slipping away until it was only Legolas and Yarna walking down the hallway. She never spoke until she had closed their apartment door behind them.

"Why call Gandir and not me?" he asked gently. For a moment she stood against the door before her posture crumbled and she wrapped her arms around him.

"And be seen calling for you when a traitor is dead? I knew you would come. You always do, even if you are late." He stroked her hair back as she rested her head against him. "I need Gandir to keep someone occupied and perhaps to remind me that- well, that there is still Mithrandir." Her tone was weary rather than bitter and Legolas could not hold anything against her.

"To keep who occupied?" She smiled thinly. "How far do your plots go, my darling?"

"Hush. Come and see the girls and leave my brother to me." He stopped her, bending down to eye height with her. She kissed him briefly, causing a muffled giggle to escape from the door to the bedroom.

"Ah." Legolas found himself tackled by two small lumps, one red one blonde. "Careful, darling, they will outgrow you." Xanthi was fast matching her mother's height, Lilleila still far behind.

"She has forbidden it," Xanthi answered. "She says it would be inconsiderate of us."

"It never stopped Feuil towering over Matlar." Legolas hoisted Lilleila up in the air. "Or Lindir outgrowing Erestor. It is the way of the world."

"They could at least have the decency to not outgrow my old clothes before they reach the age I was when I wore them." Xanthi sprung away and twirled, the blue dress she had on spinning after her. Legolas could only assume it had once been her mother's.

"Xanthi, cease growing." She crossed her eyes at them both and for one moment Legolas let the outside world slip away. He was home with Yarna and their girls, and he smiled. For a moment at least they were alright.

… …

A/N: The Noldor (which Yarna is) are always described as tall, incredibly tall. Therefore she is not exceptionally short, or Hobbit sized, merely short for a Noldo.