Legolas
"How about you tell me of the Dagor Dagorath, Legolas."
Why does he ask that? Just when I was thinking how much I hoped he would not.
"You know about the Dagor Dagorath, Finrod. You were there. In fact you know more than I do."
"Do I? And there I was hoping you could explain to me why, in the middle of a most interesting visit with the Dunedain, I am dragged away by your brother, who is usually so sensible, insisting my father and I have somehow damaged you instead of saving you. Why does he think that Legolas?"
What has Laerion been doing?
"I did not ask him to do that! I told him all was well. It is not my fault if he chooses not to listen."
"Well I have put him straight on that." Finrod frowns. "I know your fëa far too well to allow Any more harm befall it. I know the damage you suffered previously because a mortal dragged you back from the gates of Mandos. I am not a mortal working in the dark with things he does not know. I am Finrod. I am power. I had Finarfin beside me. We walked with gentle footsteps across your soul. Everything is assembled exactly as it should be. We left no damage behind. Which leaves me asking . . . Just what is the problem? Illuminate me if you would, Legolas."
"And do not—" he continues when I pause, "tell me nothing."
I feel Maewen's burning curiosity beside me. It is a tangible thing. I have not told her much of the Dagorath, perhaps not as much as I should have, but to confess the nightmares I am left with seems a criticism of Elrohir and to speak of that to her, a betrayal. It stills my tongue.
So I turn to her now.
"This is of Elrohir and I," I say for I have nothing left but honesty.
She does not fail me.
"I will go and rescue Elessar," she say placing a kiss on my cheek. "I need to ask him about Arwen." She gives no hint of her desire to hear what I have to say, but as she stands and passes Finrod I hear her whisper.
"Keep him safe."
"Always." he replies softly, and he takes her hand gently. "Always, my lady."
"I do not need people to keep me safe." I tell him when she has left. "I am capable of doing that myself."
"Wounds leave scars, Legolas." he says sternly, "and you are not the only one to carry them. Is she not allowed a few scars of her own?"
He shames me.
The damage I suffered before meeting Finrod has hurt more than just me.
"So," he moves swiftly on from Maewen leaving me no time to justify myself, "the Dagor Dagorath?"
He is not in the mood for games today, that much is obvious, and so for once I do not play them.
"I do not know what it is that worries Laerion for I have not discussed this with him, but I find I am left with troubling nightmares I cannot conquer. Not the ones that caused me to lash out at Elrohir." I stress when he attempts to jump in and interrupt me. "That made sense. These do not. They are different, more malevolent. They leave me distraught. They are constant. . . . Every night, every single night."
He crosses his arms with a frown.
"And why have you not discussed this with your brother then?"
"Because they involve Elrohir. It would be a betrayal to speak of them with anyone but him, and with him I have discussed them but we get nowhere."
"Well you will discuss them with me, foolish child."
I am in no doubt It is an order. You do not disobey an order from Finderáto.
Still when it comes to it, the thought of revisiting that memory terrifies me.
"I do not wish to think on it."
Finrod is all imperious brilliance and power for the most part but when he wishes, that can become a soothing, gentle, softness that washes away your fears, as if he cups his very hands about you, sheltering your fëa from the worst of the world. The hard edge of his sarcasm can melt into the quietest comfort. He does that now.
"I am here," he says as he takes my hand, "and you have survived this once. You can survive the telling of it to me again, for you are Legolas." He says my name as if I am one of the greats of the first age, not a small, unimportant, part broken silvan prince, and he says it with such conviction I almost believe him. His light is an impenetrable wall that keeps me safe.
"I am so afraid." I begin with the fear, for the whole of the dream is consumed by it. "I lie upon the ground, in the midst of the battle and I know the blow that fell me is the the one which will kill me. There is so much blood, but Erynion is there. I see my fear echoed in his eyes. He tries to hold me together but I know that it is hopeless and when I tell him look after my boy he does not protest I will be able to do that myself. He agrees and that frightens me even more. He swears he will guide him for me. My son was angry with me when I left him. He would not farewell me and all I can think of is the guilt he will be left with when I do not come home. I do not want that!
"I ask for Elrohir. Within the chaos of the battle, in the midst of all that fear, I ask for him, because he alone—" And there I stumble to a halt. Do I speak of the calm Elrohir can bring to my soul? Do I tell Finrod of Elrohir's power over my fëa, the one I have pleaded with him to get training for, have begged him to speak with Finrod about while he steadfastly refuses? Do I betray that confidence?
"You ask for Elrohir, why?" He probes, and I decide I have no choice. It is time Elrohir's secret was told to someone. He will never do it himself so I will do it for him and suffer the consequences, what ever those will be. We cannot be in a worse place than we already are.
"I ask for him because I need his light. I need the power he has to soothe edges of this cutting fear that lacerates my soul. Elrohir has power that he will not acknowledge, that no one sees. He is a healer though he denies it, not of the body but of the soul. He is the one who propped me up, who enabled me to survive to reach Valinor and you. Without him you would have had nothing left to heal. He washed away my sea-longing and he still does that for Elladan. But he has no idea how powerful he can be. He has no clue how he does it, but he does. I have pleaded with him to speak with you and he will not. He is so afraid he will fail. He would rather not try at all."
"So it was Elrohir whose footsteps I felt all over you soul!" he exclaims. "I could never work it out it. I thought perhaps Olórin . . . But they were too rough, far too unsubtle for him." He is so excited by this news, he almost vibrates with it.
"I needed him then," I tell him "then, at the very end of things, to help see me to the light, and he came. Erynion calls for him and he comes. But he brings no light with him. He brings no comfort. When I look upon his eyes they hold more terror than my own. He takes my own fear and he magnifies it. I plead with him to help me. I ask him to stay with me, but he leaves me. He pulls his hand from mine. He turns his face away. He shuts away his light. And he leaves. There, at the end of my road, he leaves me to die in the dirt without him."
Every time I tell this it is as if I am there, with the last of my life ebbing from me, as Elrohir walks away. I hope I never have to speak this tale again to anyone. Surely Finrod is the last that needs to know it.
"And what does Elrohir say when you tell him this memory?" Finrod asks softly. "What he say to justify himself?"
"That he saved me, and it is true. He tells it differently. He says he did not desert me, instead he ran for help, he says he did not turn from me, he aided me. He fetched Elladan. He called for you. I know it is true. I know without Elrohir I would not be here. It does not help. At that moment I did not wish him to save me. I had been saved once before and it damaged me. I could not do that again. I wanted him to stay and he did not. He says I am not fair, what else could he do? Give up? I see his side of it. I am glad to be alive. I am glad he alone thought to find you. But knowing that does not stop the nightmares. It does not stop the feeling he abandoned me. It makes no sense."
And Finrod leaps to his feet. He does not answer me. It is as if I have not spoken at all.
"A walk is in order," he says.
"Did you hear what I said?" I do not want a moonlight walk tonight.
"I heard." He snaps, "and we will walk." Then to my surprise, he turns to Elrohir, where he sits across the fire. "Elrohir!" he calls and it is a command not a question. "Walk with us."
Elrohir is not the most adept at being something he is not. He struggles to appear nonchalant when he is raging. His displeasure at being ordered by Finrod who he dislikes at the best of times shows clear upon his face but still he rises to his feet, Despite it all, he obeys.
"I am hopeless with this child of Celebrian," Finrod mutters to himself as we turn away and I do not think he wishes me to hear it. "I must try harder." To be honest I did not realise he was trying at all.
He strides ahead, leaving both me—and Elrohir, when he catches us—trailing in his wake.
"What is this all about?" Elrohir demands of me grumpily. "I am not in the mood for this."
The telling of my memory has left sharp spikes of unhappiness in my mind as if he had only just walked away and left me. As if I still lay dying in that dust. I answer in kind . . . Too sharply.
"If you want to know what Finrod is doing, ask him yourself. Do not think I wish for moonlit walks with you tonight!"
Finrod takes us to a clearing carpeted with the softness of grass, where the canopy opens up above us to reveal the stars in all their glory. I cannot resist tilting my face towards them, basking in their glinting, silver starlight. Here; in this brand new land, under the stars, I feel as if I could almost be one of those born at Lake Cuiviénen. Their light reaches in to smooth away the lingering bitterness and pain that remains after the memory of the battlefield, and immediately I regret my sharp words to Elrohir.
How did Finrod know this was here when I did not? I must bring Maewen here one night!
And Finrod laughs.
"You look as if you could be a wild Laiquendi at Cuiviénen," he smiles, echoing my own thoughts. "I knew you would enjoy this." He is pleased with himself.
"I feel like a wild Laiquendi!" I grin back at him.
"And you" he says, turning to Elrohir, scowling beside me, "you look exactly as Turgon on one of those days when he felt all the world was against him. Stop it before you tear my heart to shreds."
Seldom if ever does he mention those ancient ones he waits for. Those he used to love. It is a rare insight into his pain. Even Elrohir feels it, and attempts to arrange his features into something more neutral.
"They say I look like Fingolfin," he mumbles almost as an apology and Finrod thinks carefully as he considers him.
"You do. The resemblance is uncanny. But Fingolfin did not ever scowl like a sulky child." It is a barb that hits home if the look on Elrohir's face is any indication.
"Sit," Finrod says then, as if to let us know that subject is at an end. "We have much to talk of."
And Elrohir glances at me as if to say what is this about? I am given no chance to answer.
"Legolas has been telling me of the Dagor Dagorath."
Finrod wastes no time in plunging us straight in to turmoil. Elrohir's face, as he looks at me drains white.
"What have you told him?" he cries.
"Nothing. I explained my dreams, that is all."
"Is that not between us? Do you have to tell everything to Finrod?"
"I do not—"
Finrod interrupts me before I can even defend myself.
"As much as I am a fascinating subject we are not here to discuss me. Legolas has described his dreams to me and I would hear your side, Elrohir. Tell me what happened on the battlefield."
For a second I think he will not. For a moment I think he will storm off and leave us.
But he does not. Something holds him here.
"Erynion called me." He says reluctantly. "The minute I heard his voice I knew it was bad. There was a moment I did not want to turn around, for if I turned around I would see, and once I saw I could not unsee, As long as I did not turn towards him whatever terrible thing it was would not have happened."
"I understand that feeling" Finrod says solemnly. It surprises me as it surprises Elrohir, that shared feeling, and I wonder, just who did he lose in battle he did not wish to turn around to see? Many I imagine.
"And you know what it was," Elrohir finishes diffidently waving a hand at me.
"I know what it was but I would know what you did." Finrod presses him.
"You know that too. I came to you."
"But there is a lot missing in this story, Elrohir. Fill in the gaps please."
"I went to Erynion. I saw Legolas. I told him I would fetch help. I did that." He snaps. "What do you want from me?"
Any anger he has simply bounces off Finrod who does not even blink.
"And how did you feel?"
"How do you think I felt?" Elrohir cries in frustration, his equilibrium, if he ever had one, has gone. "Why all these questions when I owe you no answers? I am no healer but I am a warrior.. I knew it was a mortal wound he suffered. I knew I could not fix it. I knew likely no one could. How do you think I felt!"
"Why did you go for your brother?" Finrod asks swiftly not bothering with Elrohir's own questions, "if you felt Legolas beyond help."
"Because Elladan could ease his pain. Because Elladan could see him to the other side in as much comfort as I could give him."
"But Legolas asked you to stay. He asked you to guide him."
"And I am not Elladan. I cannot heal. I could not do what it was he needed. I am worth nothing in that situation no matter what Legolas thought he wanted."
"Hmm," Finrod at least pretends to mull it over. This feels, like an inquisition and I do not like it. But when he next speaks he is softer, gentler.
"How did you find Elladan on the battlefield?" he asks Elrohir who is momentarily unmanned by the change.
"I called him," he says. "Is that not obvious?"
"In all the chaos? And he heard you?"
"Through our bond."
"Ah I had heard you could do that," Finrod smiles. In the midst of all his questions it is most disarming and I believe he means it to be. "Then why did you leave?"
"What?"
Elrohir has run out of words.
"If you called him through your bond, Elrohir, why did you need to leave Legolas who lay dying, who asked you to stay?"
Finrod's words drop upon my soul like ice.
Why did he leave? Why did he leave when he could talk to Elladan from one side of Imladris to the other? Why did he leave? I have never thought of that before.
"I had to be sure I could find him!" Even I can tell Elrohir lies.
"Why did you leave, Elrohir."
"There was no time. If I ran it would be quicker! If I was closer he would be more likely to hear me."
"Elrohir," Finrods voice drops low as if he speaks to a wounded animal he does not wish to scare. "I am Finderáto, son of Arafinwë, brother of Artanis and you are explaining mind speak to me? I know how it works. I know if you cried in anguish Elladan would hear you wherever you were. Why did you leave?"
"No!"
He has Elrohir backed into a corner with nowhere to go yet still he will not give in.
"Why did you leave. Tell us. Tell us why, Elrohir."
"You call me a coward!" Elrohir cries.
"That is the last thing I call you—"
"I am not one. I am not. I am a warrior. I know death. I rescued my mother and sat with her through the worst of what came after. Elladan left. I did not. I am not afraid!"
"Then why did you leave?"
Finrod is relentless and I have heard enough. I will not have this done in my names sake.
But I am too late.
Elrohir breaks.
He is on his feet and he is screaming.
"Because I could not breathe." He cries. "That is why I left. There was too much fear. Too much, and I was lost in it. I could not find Elrohir. I could not breathe!"
I am on my feet also but I am not fast enough. Finrod beats me to it, almost as if he has anticipated this.
He has Elrohir in his arms and holds him tight.
"Elrohir is here." He says, "I have him. I have found him. There is no more fear. Breathe, little one, breathe."
I am furious with him. How dare he strip Elrohir down like this on my behalf. I would never have agreed to it had I known what he intended and well he knows that.
When Finrod finally lets go his embrace and holds Elrohir back so he can see him, that beautiful face I so adore is tear-stained.
Finrod cups that face with his hands.
"This is what you get when you play with power you do not understand," he sighs, "and do not seek training. What were you thinking, child of Celebrian? Why did you not come to me? How did I fail you?"
But Elrohir is bewildered.
"I have no power." He says.
"Oh you do. Trying to take on a dying man's fear? That is something even I would hesitate to try lest it overwhelm me. No wonder you drowned in it. I am in awe of you, Elrohir Elrondion, and your courage. How you managed to drag this small silvan to me in one piece and survive the journey, when you are not trained I do not know. Such power."
"No," Elrohir shakes his head. "You do not understand. I just wished to make it easier for him. He was so afraid. I wanted to wash it away as I did the sea-longing. It is only my love, not power."
Like a problematic puzzle it all falls into place, piece after piece after piece. And just like that, the burden I have carried since the battle, the feeling of abandonment, the wrongness between us, vanishes on the breeze.
I have been remembering it wrong.
And slowly that memory warps itself in my mind, it stretches, it pulls itself into place and I see the things I have missed. I hear them.
I feel the touch of his hand as he dropped himself beside me. I feel the rush of that beautiful fëa as he engulfs me, I hear him whisper my name. I feel the ebbing of that terrifying fear that strangles me. I realise that fear I saw magnified in his eyes was not his, it was my own. My fear he had taken from me, and for an instant it works. For a moment I find myself. I see within him the exact second it overwhelms him. When my fear becomes his fear and drowns him. When Elrohir is lost beneath the weight of Legolas and he flees.
"You took my fear upon yourself!" I cry. "Why did you do that, Elrohir?"
"Because I love you. Anything for you."
And he turns back to Finrod. "You are wrong about the power, unless love itself is power."
"I am Finrod." He replies. "I have been wrong about many things but I am not wrong about this. Know this, Elrondion. I see you now. You will not escape me." He gives a wry smile, "We start by getting you to see who you are and the things you can achieve when you know what you are doing and not stumbling around in the dark."
I have not forgotten I am angry with him.
"Why did you attack him so? It was not necessary to cut him down to nothing to make your point! That was cruel. How dare you!"
"Sometimes we have to strip away the pretence we wrap ourselves in to discover what lies at the heart of us. Elrohir is very adept at hiding. It was necessary. I do not make a habit of cruelty."
And just like that he shuts me down.
He shuts me down, but Elrohir . . .
Elrohir, he sees.