Ok so please give Aragorn the benefit of the doubt here. No telling me how awful he is until you have read the next chapter :-)
Elrohir
In the morning all does not look as bright.
Why do my moments of peace never last?
Legolas is a languid, merry, well of contentment, but I remember what waits us outside the glade. Eldarion, Estel, Aragorn, even Elladan and Laerion, it all seems like a tower of problems waiting to fall on us as soon as we step out into view.
But Legolas will not be repressed. He bounces on his toes and grins at me.
"I think I shall find Aragorn this morning and we shall get this Eldarion nonsense over with."
It is such a bad idea.
"Legolas, he is very angry. Let him alone until that calms down. Do not stir the pot, it will not go well for you."
"Hmm," he tilts his head at me as if he thinks on it. I know in actuality he does not. I have known him long enough to know when he is pretending simply to placate me. "I believe we will be fine, Elrohir. I can handle Aragorn."
"You did not handle him very well the other night," I mutter grumpily.
But he only waves his hand airily at me as if my protests are of no consequence at all.
"That was the other night," he smiles, "and this is now. I feel like speaking to him today, even if he does not wish to speak to me."
"Legolas—"
He cuts me off giving me my first glimpse of bad temper.
"Elrohir, do not do this. Let Aragorn and I manage ourselves. We are both grown men."
"Sometimes you do not act like grown men."
"I admit that is fair comment." he shrugs his shoulders. "But let us deal with the consequences of that."
I cannot help but bring my hand to touch my lip. Elladan removed the tiny stitches last night, before Finrod ordered me out on random romantic walks, but it still tingles as if in memory of them.
"It seems," I tell him, "that I bear the consequences whether I like it or not."
He knows what I mean.
"Well that will not happen again," he replies defensively. "I have spoken to Finrod of it anyway."
"Do you seriously have to tell him everything?"
"Everything he can aid me with," he counters. "I would be a fool not to."
I do not wish to fight with him, especially not when he is so buoyant, and we begin to spiral closer and closer to that.
Still it seems he does not wish that either and he spins on his heels, walking away from me, heading beyond the safety of our glade.
"Breakfast, Elrohir?" he smiles over his shoulder. "I will not face Aragorn on an empty stomach."
If I have my way he will not face him at all, but he is gone before I can stop him, forcing me to scramble after him down the path, through the trees. I can hear his laugh, light and musical, ahead of me. He is at his most annoying when he is so wood-elven. Annoying and bewitching.
I do not catch him until he has arrived back at the fireside, at the centre of his little community though no one is there save Maewen, and he dances around her, grabbing a piece of lembas right out of her hand, laughing at the frown she gives him.
"Where are your manners? It is bad enough teaching Rhawion not to snatch food without you setting such a bad example, Legolas."
I do not think she means it. It is a game they play.
"How can I resist your cooking," he smiles, simply leaning over and taking more, "and Rhawion is not here."
"You are in a good mood, today." She rolls her eyes at him but the light within them tell me she enjoys his antics.
"Because it is the best kind of day." Quick as a flash he changes the subject. "Where is Aragorn?"
"You have just missed him. He went down to the beach only minutes ago—" He does not even allow her to finish her sentence.
"Then that is where I must go." A quick kiss on her cheek and he is off before I can grab him. He uses her as a shield.
"Elrohir," Maewen asks as I move to follow, "do you not want some food?"
"Perhaps later." For the longer I stay to talk to her the further Legolas gets away from me. But she catches my sleeve as I go.
"Stay. Eat something."
"Legolas means to confront Aragorn about Eldarion and this tension between them and it will not go well." Surely she will see the sense Legolas does not.
But it seems not.
"Then we should let him," she says softly but firmly.
"Did you not hear me? I know my brother. He is angry and he has not had enough time calm down. It is too early for Legolas to be having this conversation with him."
"Then Legolas will learn that, although I should think he well knows Elessar's moods by now."
"He knows them, he just pays them no attention!"
"Then you and I are here to catch him when he falls." I cannot understand her calmness. It infuriates me.
"Well I am not prepared to let him fall!"
If I hurry I can still catch him.
"Elrohir," she calls after me, "he is not made of glass. Not any longer."
When I turn to tell her just how wrong she is something makes me pause. Legolas' words last night float unbidden to my mind. Are they real? Is it the truth or just some of his wild woodelven dreaming. Is it simply that he wishes they were true? Even as he escapes me down the path I am compelled to stop and ask her. She is beautiful there under the trees and she alone has walked the same path I have all those years in Valinor.
"Maewen, do you consider me family?"
The surprise on her face is not, I believe, at the question I ask but that I feel the need to ask it at all.
"Of course. Of course you are family, Elrohir. How could you be anything else? How would we survive without you?"
So it is true then!
"Do you wish for my input with Rhawion? Or is that simply Legolas overstepping his boundaries?"
Her smile instantly is wide as she clasps her hands together.
"He has spoken to you about that? Oh I am pleased! Rhawion could learn so much from you, and we hoped—" But just as quickly that beautiful smiles falters. "Do you not wish to? Is that it?"
"Oh no, I do wish it. I wish it very much." The brightness of that initial smile gives me the courage to say to the next. "I thought . . . He is very young yet, too young to come to me, and yet why wait? I should not have tarried so long getting to know Estel when he was small. That was a mistake. I thought I could come here . . . Occasionally . . . When it suits you. . . . For short periods of time only . . . Or nearer here perhaps and visit for the day if staying is too much . . . "
I am babbling and I cannot stop it. Luckily she saves me.
"Elrohir, do not be foolish! Of course you must stay if you wish it. Our home is your home. It will be a joy to have you here. I welcome it. I welcome you. I have always welcomed you."
"I know that. I know that, but you have given me too much. It has felt an imposition."
"You have given me Legolas." She replies. "Nothing is an imposition."
I cannot help but laugh at that.
"You already had Legolas, long before he ever knew me."
"And I would have lost him, to the sea-longing and to his grief, long ago, had it not been for you. I would not have my son, I would not have my daughter, I would not have him as he is now, with all his joy," she indicates the path Legolas has disappeared down with a wave of her hand and a look of fondness. "I would have none of that but for you, Elrohir. Do not think I do not know that. This is of mutual benefit for you and I, not me being the only one to do the giving. And I have Erynion and Rhawion also, all because of you."
"It is Finrod you owe Legolas' wellness to." I say grudgingly. Much as I hate to admit it, it is true. In these last few years Finrod has transformed him.
And she takes the few steps that close the gap between us, as she has ever done. She grasps my hand.
"You kept him with us until Finrod could find him." She says. "Do not second guess this. I would love you to spend time in our woods. I would be honoured if you would help to raise my smallest son, as you have done my eldest. You belong to us, Elrohir."
"I am not used to belonging. It will take some getting used to."
She laughs at that. A burst of pure joy.
"Stay then. Stay and eat. Get used to your place at our fire, and let Legolas fight his own battles with Elessar."
"I cannot do that Maewen." It is hard to do but I withdraw my hand. "I cannot let him walk into the disaster of another argument and not protect him if I can."
She sighs and it is heartfelt. I hear it even as I turn away to chase down my errant lover.
"Know then that I am here to catch you too, Elrohir. We look after our own."
I will not need catching, it is only my brother and Legolas after all,
but still, it is nice to know she would do it anyway.
I am far too late to stop Legolas.
I catch up with him three quarters of the way to the sea, and he has discovered Aragorn, who looks most unhappy to be found. They stand opposite each other on the path, a mile of space between them. To see them so at odds, after he has waited for this reunion for so long breaks my heart.
"We need to talk," Legolas is saying. "about Estel and Eldarion for they will be arriving soon and we should have our positions decided before then."
"I think you know my position." Aragorn snaps back. "I doubt you need me to tell you." So as I suspected, his anger has not burned out yet.
"Enlighten me." Legolas tilts his head sideways as if to say he has no idea of Aragorn's thoughts on this at all.
And my brother looks past him to me.
"Elrohir, we do not need you here."
"Oh I think you do." He knows. He knows why I will not leave. He saw my face yesterday morning. He saw the damage their last argument caused.
Legolas does not even look at me. He does not turn around. Aragorn has the entirety of his focus.
"Ignore him." He tells him. "You will never get him to leave when he is in this mood. I have learnt it is not worth even trying. Tell me your position for I do not wish to guess at it."
"It is the same as yours, I imagine," Aragorn sighs in the end. "I am unhappy about it. I have many concerns for I foresee many issues ahead of them. But Eldarion is grown. More than that he has lived an entire life over and ruled our people. I cannot tell him what to do any longer. He is his own man. If he chooses Estel all I can do is give my advice and stand aside."
I think Legolas is surprised to hear that for at first he is quiet, but then he shrugs.
"You are right as always," he says. "I think the same. Many issues, many problems, but I long ago lost any control over Estel's affairs of the heart. He is a woodelf and so no novice at this. Eldarion, I fear, despite his long life, may well be."
And the control Aragorn has displayed up to now, that control so evident through his adult life, deserts him. I have rarely seen it happen but I have been on the receiving end of it once myself, when he first discovered Legolas and I, and it was not pleasant.
"Not so much of a novice at loving male elves as I imagined though is he, Legolas!"
Even from where I stand behind him, I can see the flinch in Legolas' shoulders, as the cut of those words hits him.
"I am sorry for that," he says quietly. "I wished to tell you. I nearly did so many times. But as time went on it became harder and harder. I let my fear of what would happen between us come before what was best for Eldarion. Now I am a parent . . ." His words trail off slowly, "Now I am a parent I can see how wrong that was."
He seems suddenly so vulnerable. I want to whisk him away from ever having to have this conversation.
"You have no idea!" Aragorn cries. "You have no idea what it is like or how much this has hurt me. Do not tell me you understand this. How can you?"
"Because now I have my own son."
Legolas is doing better than I anticipated weathering this storm but I have heard enough.
"Aragorn! Enough is enough!"
My protests fall on deaf ears. They bounce off my brother as if I do not even say them.
"I have had no-one," he is saying. "I grew up adrift in a world that was not my own. In debt to those who sheltered me, a burden, a duty for others; in the way and I felt it. Lied to, deceived, kept apart from my family, oblivious to who I really was. My own mother was as complicit in that as anyone. I did not belong there Legolas. I did not belong anywhere! I did not know the Dunedain who I was supposed to lead, I travelled Arda yet never found home, I was always the outsider, always the one hiding. Half the city I ruled did not want me as King. And when I have my own son, finally my flesh and blood, finally someone who belongs with me, who fits with me, I am not allowed to know him either!
"Important things, about his soul, about who he is, who he loves, I am deemed not good enough to know. Still secrets are kept from me. Still I am deceived. My whole life is people hiding the truth from me. I am not to know myself. I am not to know my own son. The first person in my life who is a part of me, whose face I can look upon and see my own, and I am denied knowing this crucial part of him? Because I am not to be trusted?"
I had no idea my brother felt this way—still carried the hurt of that hiding of his identity, within his heart. I had no idea Imladris was so isolating for him, that he felt a burden? How could he think that?
"Aragorn—" But he is not about to listen to me.
"Do not call me that!" His words cut like shards of glass. "Do you not know what hurt it resurrects to hear you call me that?"
I had not even thought about it.
"How can you understand?" He says to Legolas then. "How can you? You had your woods. Even when the sea stole them from you, you still had them in your heart. You belonged. You always did. The face of your son is not an oasis in a desert of aloneness, with no one who is the same as you—my long lost home is in his heart. Your family surrounds you. They have always surrounded you. How can you understand, Legolas?"
He pauses. He expects an answer from Legolas.
He does not get one.
For Legolas, it seems, in the eye of the storm, has chosen this moment to decide he no longer wishes to participate in the conversation he insisted on starting. I know the closed off, shut down look upon his face. I have seen it so many, many times. He is done talking.
And it is so frustrating.
And if it is frustrating for me it is more than frustrating for Aragorn.
"Do you have nothing to say?" He asks angrily. "Is that how it is? I tell you the depths of my heart I have never told anyone and you say nothing."
"Stop it, Aragorn, just stop it. I cannot answer." Legolas says in the end. What is he thinking? "You know how it is. Just give me space."
I cannot believe he said that.
And I cannot believe my brother's reaction either for instead of the incandescent rage I am expecting, suddenly, dramatically, he deflates.
"I want to hear this," he snaps before he pushes past Legolas, past me, back down the path, back to the campsite, and we are alone.
"Are you mad?" I ask Legolas. "Do you want to make things worse between you? Did you hear him?"
"Did you hear me?" He answers. "Stop it!"
He sinks to the ground, burying his head in his knees, hands over his ears as if he shuts out the world. But having started this he must finish it or things will be so much worse between them. He cannot avoid this. I am tempted to say I told you so but that will not help, and he is unhappy.
"Legolas," A couple of strides and I kneel beside him, a hand on his shoulder. "Let me go bring him back and we can finish this discussion together." For there are things—a multitude of things—I need to discuss with my little brother now, after those revelations.
"Leave me alone, Elrohir."
He is so stubborn, and so difficult to help.
I toss up my options in my head. Stay, until he decides he has had enough of hiding? Go after Aragorn myself and try and mend things for Legolas without him? My brothers words echo round my head. I felt a burden, a duty, I did not belong, I have never belonged. What can I do about that?
I do not have long to think about it, for he returns of his own accord. He has come straight back to us, long determined strides bringing him down the path. Under his arm he carries a pouch, made of softest leather and I recognise it. It holds the things he needs for letter-writing, for missives he may need to send on the road. Always prepared, always a King, a leader is my Estel.
And he throws it on Legolas' lap.
"Do you best," he says. "Tell me what it is you have to say," and he grasps me by the collar, pulling me sideways until I am unbalanced and toppling into the dirt. "Elrohir will come with me. We will be on the beach when you are done."
I know he is angry but this is cruel, and unlike him. What does he suggest? He knows Legolas can not write. Does he assume that was healed in Valinor or does he taunt him? Surely not.
"Aragorn," I scramble to my feet. "This is unfair—"
He still is not listening.
"I have told you, that is not your name for me, do not use it!" He snaps. "What is unfair is you placing yourself in the midst of this conversation at all. This is between Legolas and I. It is not your concern. We will wait on the beach. He has asked for space and we will give it. Come with me!"
"But—"
"Go Elrohir!" Legolas clutches the pouch to his chest as if it is his shield, and he tells me to go.
What do I do? I am stranded in the midst of them.
"Go!"
And against all my instincts, my back against the wall, I do.