Author's Note: Here you are. I think the ending of this chapter won't be as upsetting as the end of the last.
And there are two chapters to go after this. I know, I know, I keep saying that, but it turns out I wrote a lot more little bits and pieces than I realized.
Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter XVI
Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present
"It is nearly time." Thranduil looks across the supper table at his son. For once, by mutual consent, they decided to forgo the meal in the dining hall in favour of a private one in the royal quarters. "Do you want to come?"
"To court? If you will permit it, I would rather not be there. I know what they will say, and… and I cannot face Saeldur again. My courage would not last if I did."
"Legolas," the King says gently, "you had every right to do what you did. You know that."
"I might have had the right, but you did not see how he looked when I told him… It was all I could do not to relent at once. It is all I can do now not to send for him and tell him I have changed my mind." Thranduil pushes a plate of cakes towards Legolas. Legolas is in no mood for cake, but he takes one, because refusal will only result in Galion spending all night bringing him dainties to tempt his appetite. "I cannot come."
"If that is what you truly want –"
"It is."
"Then I will not insist. You have already endured far more than I had any right to expect of you. But you should not be alone now – and not here." Thranduil makes a gesture that encompasses the royal quarters, quieter than usual under the present circumstances. "Where are Aeroniel and Rochendilwen?"
"Looking after Lady Éowyn," says Legolas, his face lightening. "I believe they intended to take her to see the river tonight. It is going to be a full moon."
Thranduil nods. He has noticed that Rochendilwen and Aeroniel have been taking on the responsibility of keeping Éowyn occupied, and he is grateful. He himself has no heart to be a cheerful guide, and Legolas has too much to handle already.
"Go outside, then. There will be more people about. If I see Elladan and Elrohir in court, I will tell them to meet you on the green. But we have a few minutes more. Legolas, I have never spoken to you about Candnaur's death. I thought the subject might be too painful to dwell upon. I see now that I was wrong."
"Adar, you do not have to –"
"You know that it was not your fault."
"I was in command."
"You were, and therefore it was your responsibility to make the best decisions you could. Sometimes, no matter what you do, you cannot save everyone. It was a difficult situation. I should never have sent you there – it was hopeless and the ground was lost. Candnaur should not have gone after you. He had no battle experience and only a bare minimum of weapons training. It was foolish. You…" Thranduil shrugged. "I cannot even say that you should have sent Candnaur back, because there is no certainty that he would have survived the journey. You did your best. Nobody can do more."
"I could have insisted that Saeldur stay in the stronghold."
"Perhaps, but knowing Saeldur, there is every chance that he would have gone after you anyway. You are certainly not answerable for Candnaur's folly in chasing after him."
"Saeldur was standing next to me when he – when we saw – when Candnaur fell." Legolas' voice is trembling. "That first instant – his face – he looked so horrified. I have never seen anything like it." Legolas hesitates and Thranduil nods. He has been in enough battles to know the look. "I would have done anything to spare him that sight, or to undo it, but… but there was nothing I could do."
Thranduil reaches across the table to squeeze his son's hand. "I know you would have done anything to spare him that. And, believe me, so does Saeldur." There is a soft knock at the door. "That will be for me. I must go now… And so must you. Do not stay here by yourself. Find some of your friends and try to think of something else, even if only for an hour."
Eryn Lasgalen, Outside the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present
Legolas does try. He goes outside and, without conscious thought, finds himself walking in the direction of the training fields.
Most of the archers are on the ranges. The usual crowd has gathered to watch and wager. If anything, it is even more boisterous than otherwise. Legolas is about to join them – he can watch the practice, even if he has no heart to participate – but he hesitates. If they notice him, they will either demand a demonstration, or, worse, want to speak about what has happened.
He knows he must speak to the archers. Rochendilwen and Aeroniel have told him – and he can see for himself – that they are worried about him.
But he cannot do it today. He has spent the past weeks putting up a façade of calmness he does not feel. He cannot do it again now.
He slips away before anyone can spot him –
Or almost anyone. Elladan and Elrohir fall in on either side of him as he walks towards the forest.
"Do not worry," Elrohir says, before Legolas can suggest that they find something more entertaining to do. "We are not going to ask you to pretend that everything is fine. You need not even talk if you do not want to. But you should not be alone."
He would not have been alone, foolish Elf, comes a grumble, and Elrohir huffs.
"Yes, yes, I know," he tells the tree. "And normally I would say you are very good company –"
We want to talk to you, Elfling, the tree goes on, ignoring Elrohir. About the traitors. Every tree in the forest knows how grieved you were when you returned here, and you have hardly been out to speak to us.
Something in the tree's tone alarms Legolas.
"There is no need to overreact," he begins.
No need to overreact! Yes, Legolas is right to be alarmed. Trees are unpredictable at the best of times. You could have been killed! I do not think it is possible to overreact to all that has happened. We know about it. We have heard the other Elves talking.
"You know better than to listen to gossip."
All right. We will not listen to gossip. You tell us. Were you nearly killed?
Legolas sighs. "That is beside the point. The point is that the King will handle this. If Saeldur decides to stay here, I do not want to hear about any foolishness from you."
We are not going to kill anybody. All we are saying is that a few well-placed dropped acorns –
Perhaps some strategic vines, chimes in another tree.
Strategic vines. Yes. These things would not go amiss.
"No strategic vines," Legolas says. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
We will speak to the birds. Birds are flighty, unreliable creatures, but they have good ideas. Perhaps a rotten bough might fall at the right moment – that is ordinary, is it not? Boughs fall every day.
Legolas groans.
Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present
Thranduil looks up at the knock.
"Yes, come."
The door opens the bare minimum required for Saeldur to squeeze himself through. He shuts it behind him.
"You wanted to see me, my king."
As angry as he is, Thranduil finds himself feeling pity for the young Elf before him. What he did was worse than foolish, and Legolas could have been killed – and it is quite clear that Saeldur knows that. Nothing else could so effectively quench his spirits. Thranduil has never seen him so downcast, not even in the days after Candnaur's death.
"Sit down," he says.
Saeldur sits on the edge of his chair.
"My king."
"You have already spoken to Legolas, I know."
"Yes, my king."
"He discussed his decision with me. I know it must be difficult for you, but I think you will find that it is best."
"Please," Saeldur says desperately. "Please do not be kind to me now. It does not make it any easier to bear."
"You would rather I lost my temper, I suppose?" asks Thranduil wryly. "I do not doubt Legolas managed to keep his – he is hurt more than angry. I am angry. I will not deny that. If you had acted against me I would not have minded as much, but – Legolas trusted you." As he says it, he feels himself getting angrier. "I trusted you. I trusted you with Legolas' life, more than anyone. Before this, no matter what anybody said, I would have sworn you would never…"
He stops talking and draws in a deep, steadying breath.
"I would never – never – knowingly allow Legolas to come to harm."
"Few Elves know Legolas as well as you do. You might be telling the truth… but you did intend to hurt him with your allegations about Candnaur, even if it was only for a moment, even if you regretted it deeply… even if you had no idea what the consequences would be. You meant to hurt him."
Saeldur does not try to deny it.
"I understand that friends will argue," Thranduil goes on, forcing himself to sound calm. "I have done my share of it… as, I know, you and Legolas have. I had an uncertain enough temper in my youth that I said a great many highly regrettable things. But this was different. I think I am entitled to ask why." He pauses a moment to consider his phrasing. "We all say things we do not mean. We hurt those we love the most. But this was –"
"It was cruel," Saeldur interrupts dully. Thranduil lets it pass, realizing that he is too distraught to worry about courtesy. "I know."
"You have never been cruel." Thranduil sighs. "Now that your commanding officer has made his decision, I have no right to demand anything of you. I am aware of that. But as a father, I am asking you to find a way to forgive Legolas for your brother's death, because until you do, he will not forgive himself."
"I do not blame Legolas for Candnaur's death," Saeldur says fiercely, and with the ring of truth.
Thranduil decides to let it pass.
"I think, now, that I was wrong not to insist on your serving my court when your duties allowed, as I did with Legolas. Celephindeth and Candnaur both said you were unsuited to it. They were right, but perhaps it would have taught you to better control your temper. It certainly did Legolas good."
Saeldur jerks a nod.
"You are welcome to stay in Eryn Lasgalen if you wish," Thranduil goes on.
"Thank you, my king," Saeldur says, but he does not sound pleased.
"I know you find little comfort in that."
"With all due respect, my king, it does not matter."
Thranduil nods. "You may go."
Saeldur gets to his feet, bows formally, and goes to the door, shoulders slumped.
"Saeldur." About to open the door, Saeldur pauses and turns back. "Perhaps I should not be telling you this. But I think it is what Legolas would want me to do… if he were less personally concerned. I know you are unhappy, but it is not as bad as it could be."
"I know that," Saeldur says fervently. "Legolas is alive, and he has recovered. If Bregolien had… If Legolas had died thinking…" Saeldur shudders. "I could not have lived with myself. I can barely live with myself now."
"You and Legolas, like most Elves born in Eryn Galen in the Third Age, have seen a great deal. It is easy to forget that you are very young. You know, and so you do not need me to tell you, that Legolas is incapable of being unforgiving for very long… especially not where you are concerned."
"I know he will forgive me. But I will not ask it of him, not until... Legolas deserves that much."
Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present
Legolas sinks into his chair and buries his head in his hands. He stayed outside as long as he could, but in the end he retreated to his study, desperate to be alone. He is not ungrateful for his friends' efforts to cheer him, but at the moment he needs to think.
Or, perhaps, he needs not to think.
He does not know what he is going to do.
He found the courage to tell Saeldur he could not stay in Ithilien, but it took every last bit of willpower he could muster. He does not know where he will find the courage, now, to return to Ithilien himself. His friends will be there, of course – and Estel and Arwen in Minas Tirith, and Gimli nearby, and Elladan and Elrohir dividing their remaining time in Middle-earth between Imladris and Gondor –
But that is not the same.
He and Saeldur have argued before, but he cannot remember feeling like this. In the past, no matter how much they quarrelled, he was always utterly confident that their friendship meant as much to Saeldur as it did to him, that Saeldur would support him in public no matter what he said in private.
And Saeldur has always done it. Legolas was telling the truth when he said he could not have done any of it without Saeldur's help. Even when he made the difficult choice to continue on with the Fellowship after Gandalf's fall, instead of returning home, he was helped by the knowledge that he was leaving the command of the archers in safe hands. Saeldur had known that Legolas would have returned if he could, and he had not allowed the archers to lose faith.
But this…
He does not believe Saeldur knew about Arahael's plan. That is true. He also knows that Saeldur would never knowingly have sent him to Bregolien. Saeldur is hot-tempered, but he is not that ruthless.
But Saeldur is holding something back.
Legolas knows that. He has known for some time. He did not need Lady Celephindeth to tell him.
And he has always been afraid to press the matter, because…
Because he is afraid of what he might hear. What if Saeldur does hold him responsible for Candnaur's death – and not in the sense that Legolas was responsible for what happened under his command, but truly responsible? Or worse? What if Saeldur does think that Legolas felt threatened by Candnaur – especially now that he knows that Legolas knew of Míron's veiled hints to Candnaur?
What if Saeldur wishes it was Legolas, and not Candnaur, taken by the orcs that day?
Legolas does not think he has the courage to face that. He would rather go back to Moria and see if there is another Balrog.
As though the thought of the Balrog heightens his senses, he becomes aware of something tingling at the edge of his consciousness. He raises his head, looking around the room. He is alone in his study. There are no doors other than one through which he entered, and no place for anyone to hide.
But he can feel impending danger.
Legolas knows better than to ignore his instincts. He pauses to pick up his knives. He will not make that mistake again, and besides, he suddenly remembers a near-distraught Saeldur telling him about a very unpleasant dream. Then he pads to the door, opens it, and steps out into the corridor.
It is empty, but he can hear noise from the other end.
Someone screams.
Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present
Saeldur is relieved to see his parents waiting in the entrance hall. His mother is not pleased with him, but at least she understands that what is happening to him is far worse than any remarks she could make on the subject.
As he steps into the hall, he hears a commotion behind him. He turns to see Arahael and his mother, escorted by two guards, coming out of Lord Arbellason's study. He knows the King has already delivered their sentence; they must have gone to Arbellason to appeal against it. Judging by their furious expressions, he was not sympathetic to their cause.
They are lucky, in Saeldur's view. Being sent to Aman, to the judgement of the Valar, is a light sentence for what could have happened. All Elves will have to leave Middle-earth soon enough, or stay and fade into legend.
"You," Amarthiel hisses when she spots Saedur. One of the guards tries to restrain her. She shakes off his hand and takes a few steps towards Saeldur. It is the first time he is meeting her since he confessed to killing Míron. "You… you murdered my husband."
Out of the corner of his eye Saeldur sees his mother starting to come towards him. He warns her with a glance to stay back. He can handle this.
"I killed him, my lady," he says, voice even. He has endured too much today to be upset by her reproaches. "He was about to murder Legolas. I had no choice."
"You killed him," she repeats, "and you did not even have the courage to come and tell me of it yourself." There is a soft murmur from the Elves are standing near the great door, four or five of the archers among them. This will be fodder for gossip tonight. "I am astonished that you can live with yourself, Saeldur."
She erupts into sudden motion, elbowing the guard in the stomach. He doubles over, clutching his middle. She seizes the knife from his belt and rushes at Saeldur.
The other guard starts forward to restrain her, only for Arahael to throw himself at him and bear him to the ground.
Saeldur pivots so that Amarthiel misses his neck, the knife going into his shoulder instead. She pulls it back to strike again. He seizes her wrist and forces her to drop it. The guard, recovering, takes her by the arm and manages to pull her away.
"That will be enough," he snaps. "Be thankful the King was not there to see that." He glance at Saeldur. "Go to the healers," he orders, sounding as though he does not particularly care if Saeldur does or not.
But before Saeldur can move, there is a scream – perhaps his mother, he cannot be certain – and Arahael is advancing on him with a knife in each hand. The room is utterly still. Saeldur is barely conscious of the pain in his shoulder –
And then he realizes that nobody is going to help him. His parents are moving, but they are too far, one guard has his hands full with Amarthiel while the other groans on the ground, and the archers are standing and watching.
Time has slowed to a crawl. Saeldur steps back.
His foot hits something – the knife Amarthiel dropped – and he has enough time to pick it up and disarm Arahael –
But he made a promise, and, if he does nothing else, he intends to keep it.
All of a sudden, time speeds up. Light flashes on the blades of Arahael's knives as they descend –
Saeldur is jerked sharply back, and something is between him and Arahael, steel clashing on steel as the blow is parried.
By Legolas, coming between them.
Arahael draws back a pace.
Unexpectedly Saeldur remembers a nightmare he had long ago.
Legolas, no!
Legolas' blood seeping between Saeldur's fingers as he vainly tries to stanch the flow and the life goes out of the blue eyes –
And he knows it is now, and here, that it might happen. His veins turn to ice.
He tries to shoulder Legolas aside, but Legolas keeps him in place, his grip surprisingly firm as Arahael attacks again.
One of Arahael's knives clatters to the ground. With a hoarse shout, he slashes out with his remaining knife.
Legolas pushes Saeldur further behind him and holds him there with one hand. Saeldur looks around for the fallen knife – no promise is worth Legolas getting himself killed – but it is too far to reach. He dare not dive for it and distract Legolas.
He stays where he is, heart thumping painfully against his ribs.
Legolas' blade meets Arahael's, twisting it out of his grip with contemptuous ease. Legolas kicks it out of reach. Then the knife is at Arahael's throat.
"Do not try anything," Legolas says coldly. Then, raising his voice, "Why is nobody restraining the lunatic?"
At once, a pair of archers hurry forward, take Arahael by the arms, and pull him away, out the door and presumably to his mother's cottage. The guard holding Amarthiel takes her after them. Only then does Legolas release Saeldur. He takes a moment to glance at the other guard, who is staggering to his feet and appears only winded, before he turns to level a glare on the remaining archers standing by the door. They variously flush, shuffle, and try to sidle into the nearest wall.
"Well?" Legolas says. "Who is going to explain to me why you thought we have implemented a new policy of standing by idly while murder is committed in the King's halls?"
Without waiting for an answer, he rounds on Saeldur. "And what were you thinking, standing there and waiting for him to stab you?"
"I was thinking that I made a promise," Saeldur says, the shock of all that has happened loosening his tongue. "You might not believe me, but my loyalty is to you, as it has always been. If my bow is not yours, it is nobody's – certainly not mine. Not my bow, and not any other weapon."
For a moment Legolas simply stares at him in mute astonishment. Before he can speak, Húrphen hurries forward, reaching them at the same moment as Saeldur's parents.
"I will take him to the healers."
Legolas nods. "See that he has what he needs. I must speak to the King."
Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-king: Present
"No," Saeldur says impatiently, pulling his arm from Feredir's grasp. "I need no stitches." He sees his parents exchange a glance. "It is not that bad. It will heal perfectly well on its own."
"It will heal sooner," his mother says quietly, "if you allow Feredir to do his work."
Saeldur glances at the door.
Húrphen, after seeing him into Feredir's hands, has left. He did not meet Saeldur's eyes as he did. Saeldur knows the archers are angry – and disappointed – but he cannot keep from hoping that at least Legolas – after all, never before has it happened that Legolas has not come to see how he is, when he has needed the healers' care.
"Legolas is not coming," his mother says, interrupting his thoughts. "Stop being a child, Saeldur. Allow Feredir to attend to the wound and we can go home."
"He might –"
"Listen to me," she snaps. "You are no longer Legolas' second. You are no longer one of his archers. You are no longer his responsibility. He stepped in to save your life, as he would do for any of his father' subjects. He owes you no more than that – in fact, I question whether he even owes you that. Feredir!" She turns to him. "Put in the stitches and bind the wound."
Feredir hurries to comply.
Saeldur, unable to tear his eyes from the door, which stays resolutely shut, barely feels the needle.
Feredir is tying off the bandage when the door finally opens.
Legolas stands outside.
Celephindeth starts to say something, but she stops when she realizes Legolas is not paying any attention to her.
Saeldur gets to his feet.
"Good," Legolas says. He sounds calm, but Saeldur can hear the tense undertone. "I hoped I would be in time to see you."
Saeldur nods.
"I am sorry," Legolas goes on stiffly. "No matter what has happened, you should never have been in danger in the stronghold – and certainly not in the presence of a dozen warriors. That they thought they could simply stand by and allow…" He shakes his head. "That was my failing. I knew they were unhappy and confused. I should have spoken to them. Forgive me."
Saeldur finds his voice. "Legolas, no –"
"And I cannot believe that you thought…" Legolas shakes his head. "Did you think you were going to please me by letting the lunatic kill you?"
"You should not have stepped between us." Saeldur meets Legolas' eyes and drops his voice. "When it happened – Legolas, it was just like my dream – the one I told you about – and I thought – I remembered –"
"That was why I picked up the knife," said Legolas. "I remembered that as well."
"And you still came? A knife might not have been enough. Legolas, there was so much blood and I could not stop it. I was afraid you would… You should not have taken the risk."
"You know as well as I do that every dream need not be a vision of the future. Even those with the gift of Foretelling only see one possible future that might come to pass. In any case… did you expect me to stand by and watch it happen?"
"I had no idea you were there," Saeldur says. "I would not expect you to stand by and watch anyone stabbed, but… But if you had been hurt… or worse… and after everything… Legolas, I would rather die than see that."
"Do you think I would not do the same?" asks Legolas, voice very low.
"Legolas. That was not what I meant. I did not intend to hurt you – not like this, and not in any other way."
Legolas steps back. "I am glad you are well."
"Come," Celephindeth says, not unkindly, giving Saeldur a slight push. "We should go."
Saeldur ignores her. "Thank you," he tells Legolas, gesturing at the knives still tucked into his belt. "You saved my life."
Legolas shakes his head, moving to the door. "You owe me no thanks." For the first time he sounds like himself. "You should go… and rest."
"Legolas, wait." About to leave, Legolas stops. "May I… may I come to Ithilien – not now, but in a few months? Just for a week or two, to gather my things?"
Legolas considers. Saeldur holds his breath, though he is not particularly afraid of a refusal. Even Arahael and Amarthiel will be given time to pack such possessions as they wish to take with them.
Legolas nods. "Yes, of course."
He does leave then. Saeldur, watching him go, thinks that he has at least bought himself time.
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