Authors Note: Just to clarify after there have been a heap of readers obviously struggling with certain aspects of the story.
1. Legolas is not a god. He makes mistakes. he has made a mistake here.
2. There is no justification for remaining silent when a child is damaged, especially when that silence worsens the damage.
3. Aragorn is not perfect. He has said he has had a gutsful of being perfect. Please allow him to be the flawed individual he is.
4. Legolas and Aragorn are the only ones that truly understand their friendship. The fact their friends and family dont understand their behaviour doesnt matter one iota. Aragorn and Legolas' friendship: Aragorn and Legolas get to be in charge. They have it in hand.
5. Re Finrod in the next couple of chapters. He is Finrod. He is First Age. He is not PC. He does what needs to be done and tells it as it is. Finrod is right. End of.
Reviews complaining to me about Finrod will not be answered.
And now on to the story...
Legolas
When I was young, a girl—fierce, determined, beautiful, and wild—walked into my life and somehow I was wise enough to grasp hold of her and never let her go. That very fierceness that entranced me then descends upon me now.
Maewen greets Aragorn with absolute delight, something that warms my heart given the years she shunned him, Laerion, she is as pleased to see as if he was her own brother. She was there when he died and I think for her, as for me, every time he appears is as if he returns from the dead all over again, a moment of pure joy.
Then she turns her attention to me.
I see her casting her eyes across our small group of travellers, taking in everything, the mess that is Elrohirs face, Aragorn's distance from me . . . No Estel. I see the cogs of her quick mind whirring.
"Where is Estel?" She says it sweetly enough but there is no welcome home, Legolas, I have missed you. She has put two and two together, come up with five, and her five is probably not far from the mark. Beneath her gentle enquiry about our son lies a reprimand for me. It is not undeserved.
"Yes, where is the boy?" Finrod chimes in to make matters worse, as if he did not already notice the absence. Sometimes he infuriates me.
"He travels with Eldarion, they follow behind us. Some time to get to know each other." There is a snort of disapproval from Elrohir at that—can he not keep his mouth shut— and Maewen's eyes narrow.
"Well I am pleased to hear that," is all she says. "Things have improved between them then."
"You could say that."
Maewen is grace and calm and politeness as she feeds our guests and arranges their accommodation. We do not have much yet for ourselves and suddenly she has my brother, two Noldor, a Man and the indubitable Finrod to squeeze in to our small community. I do not know how she does it. She has always been better at practicalities and logistics than me.
It is not until we all sit around the fire, Finrod weaving his magic in song, that Maewen slides in next to me where I lean against the trees in the shadows at the edge of things and my luck runs out.
"So," she says quietly, "the full story please, Legolas."
"The full story is as I said. Estel is fine. He travels with Eldarion. They go through the woods as we took the road."
"And how does Elrohir's lip and the fact it seems you are already not speaking to Elessar fit into that?"
"Aragorn is not speaking to me actually."
It is a petty response and she calls me on it. Maewen is, of everyone who loves me, the one now least afraid of my damage. She challenges me and presumes I am a Legolas who is whole. She lets me get away with nothing. She was always like that in the days long ago when we were young in the Greenwood. I was never Prince Legolas to her. Always just Legolas who she would reprimand with the best of them. I love her for it.
"It hardly matters, Legolas, who it is who does not speak to whom. You have waited for eternity to see him and now, after barely a week you have fallen out. A record even for the two of you. What did you do?"
What did I do?
"It is more what I did not do." I may as well tell her. Of everyone here she is the one who will understand. "Eldarion, in the midst of a rage, told him of Meluion, and the fact I knew and did not speak of it. Aragorn is hurting and I do not blame him."
She draws in her breath with a hiss.
"Oh Legolas," she sighs sadly, "I am sorry."
Her hand reaches out to rub softly, comfortingly across my back, massaging the tension out of my shoulders as she drops her head to rest upon them.
"It is a sword I have been waiting to drop upon our friendship for so long. It is almost a relief he now knows. But I have much work to do to repair things and I do not know how to start."
"At least he is here. That is something." She looks across the fire at where Aragorn sits. He looks most uncomfortable and I feel sorry for him. Elrohir, he is at odds with, as I am, for the disastrous display that landed us in the middle of this drama. There is a mile of space between them, Elladan, who would be Aragorn's port in a storm usually, sits next to my brother and he glows with that beautiful peace so badly missing from him all those years I knew him before Laerion. He will be no shelter for Aragorn tonight.
Finrod, on the other hand has pinned poor Aragorn underneath the brilliance of his gaze. He wants to know anything and everything but he has not wound in his power at all. He spills it all out upon my friends head and it overawes him, for Finrod unmasked is powerful indeed.
I should go and rescue him. But would he have me?
"It was wrong to keep it from him," Maewen says, "Now we have our own son, that is clear."
"It was wrong. I knew it was wrong for many years before he died and cowardice kept my mouth shut. Now I pay the price."
"Why?" She asks finally as I knew she would eventually. "Why did Eldarion choose now to spill his secret? Did he want to hurt you, or his father?"
"Both of us, I imagine."
"That makes no sense, Legolas. Why, in the midst of your reunion? It seems far too callous for Eldarion to even entertain it."
And now we come down to it—the nub of the problem. I do not know how she will react to this.
"He and Estel have begun something. Elrohir knew and created drama at the worst possible time, and Eldarion—afraid, I think, we would order them apart—reacted badly. Meluion came out in the midst of that."
"Estel and Eldarion have what?"
"Begun something, that is how Estel described it to me when I pinned him down. Eldarion is head over heels, proclaiming love, floating upon a cloud. Estel seemed somewhat bewildered. I told him to steer clear of mortals, that they see love differently. It seems Eldarion's elven fëa had him tricked into thinking it would not count as a mortal dalliance, or he used that excuse to justify it to himself anyway. I think he may be in above his head."
"Oh no," she says, "what was he thinking? That child!"
"He is no longer a child and that is the problem."
"And this problematic—no longer a child—boy of ours is in the woods with Eldarion instead of here with you, why?"
She always goes straight to the heart of it.
"Aragorn was furious . . . With me . . . and that upset him, then Elrohir charged in just as I was trying to help Estel and I reacted badly. We argued and the boy ran, taking all his things and heading back here, distressed and thinking he had managed to destroy both my friendship with Aragorn and my relationship with Elrohir. Neither is true of course. Any problems we have are of our own making."
"Legolas!" She is disappointed with me as I knew she would be. "Why did you not follow him and make it right!"
"Because Eldarion begged me for a chance to fix things. Estel had asked to tell me about them himself, in private, before Eldarion spilled it to all and sundry in the most dramatic fashion. Eldarion rightly claimed if I did not give him the chance to follow and attempt to make amends there would be nothing between them worth saving by the time Estel reached you here."
"And perhaps that would be a good thing, Legolas." she says softly.
"I thought that too but then . . . Estel had left behind a carving. Eldarion had given it to him and he had tossed it aside in anger. When I saw it. . . Maewen, he had captured our son perfectly. It was the essence of Estel. The Estel only you and I know, so perfect, so beautiful. There was so much love wrapped up in that piece of wood. For Estel to have a chance at that. . . It is all I wish for him.
"And I thought of you, of Gimli, of Aragorn, of Erynion, and the chances you gave Elrohir and I when commonsense would say we were no good for each other. Especially you who saw what he could be for me and invited him in, who gave up so much for the both of us. I could not stand in their way. I gave Eldarion one night to find him, then I insisted we ride upon the road so they might have the chance to sort themselves before they face us. Perhaps it was wrong."
She leans across me then, lifts my face to hers and gives me a kiss. Maewen's kisses are always the sweetest.
"No it was right." she smiles, "If the love is as you say it is definitely right."
And I feel the prickle of an Elven gaze upon us. I know who it will be before I even look to see. Elrohir's eyes dart away as I meet them. Elrohir, who even now after all these years feels an intruder between Maewen and I, no matter how much we reassure him it is not so. It is unusual for him to be here, in my world. I always go to him in his. I can count on the fingers of one hand the times he, Maewen and I have been together. Sometimes it hurts me that he cannot share in the Silvan side of me but then I remind myself how difficult it is for him, how much he gives up for me and I forgive him.
Usually I would remind Maewen he sits across the fire and retreat from her affection, but tonight I do not. He knew what he was doing when he came here, and he came here because he does not trust me to deal with things myself. The softness of Maewen's love soothes my soul and I will not pull away from it, not tonight.
"Well your mannish friend is remarkably quiet for one who has been a King, I could hardly get a word out of him."
The smooth tones of Finrod in my ear send me three feet in the air and Maewen laughs out loud at my discomfort.
"Do you have to creep up on me? Can you not announce yourself like any normal person!l I frown at him as he settles himself down beside me, and he ignores me. He is focused on Aragorn.
"Was he always so silent?" He asks me.
"You dazzle him, and you know you do. You are doing it on purpose. He is quiet because you blind him with your power. I know it amuses you but he is my friend, Finrod, and not a plaything."
"Hmm . . ."
For a moment I wonder if I have gone too far but then he shrugs as if it is not matter at all.
"You are right. I will apologise to him tomorrow. Anything for you, small one. However I must say you are the strangest pair of long lost friends I have ever seen. No one would guess you liked each other. Fingolfin and Feanor had more conversation than the pair of you."
"He is my friend. It is complicated."
"Complicated like the damage to Elrond's boy's face must be complicated?" Finrod raises a laconic eyebrow that speaks volumes.
"I should like to know about that too." Maewen joins in. I am done for. They gang up on me.
"That was an accident."
"He accidentally fell on your fist? So clumsy for an elf." Finrod's usual sarcasm is not funny tonight. Not funny at all.
"Legolas!" Maewen's disapproval is just as uncomfortable. "You are better than that!"
"He woke me from nightmares. I thought him someone else. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was not intentional, in fact I was horrified."
"Nightmares?" And instantly I have Finrod's full attention. "I thought we had the measure of those long ago."
"We do, we do. I have it under control, Finrod. I know what triggered them and it is private. I will not discuss it now. You were the one who told me to recognise my weak points and confront them. Now you must let me do it."
"And are you?" He asks. "Are you confronting your weakness, you and Elrohir?"
"Yes we are." He edges too close to the agony of the Dagor Dagorath and I do not want to go there tonight.
"You do not seem happy with each other this evening."
"Because Elrohir is uncomfortable here in the woods,"
"Then why is he here in the woods at all?"
"To watch over me!"
"Which he does not need to do." Finrod is relentless. He pins me down with his cleverly chosen words and questions until I am squirming to get away.
"You commented on his face yourself." I retort, "Obviously he has reason to think he needs to."
"And that annoys you."
"At the moment you annoy me!"
And he laughs. Finrod is nothing if not surprising.
"Very well," he smiles, stretching his long legs out on front of him. "I will drop that topic for now. Let us choose another . . . How about you tell me of the Dagor Dagorath, Legolas."
And I feel sick.