The last chapter: 13 770 words. You're welcome.
"What in the Valar's name did I miss?" Alcanor's question echoed through the hall and Legolas smiled sadly. He missed so much. Ai, Alcanor had missed so much! All the horrors he had lived through and Alcanor knew nothing about them, burdened only with his own horrors of being a prisoner underneath a darkness so heavy Legolas doubted he would have been able to withstand it for as long as his brother had managed.
Trembling with sudden cold, Legolas stepped forward and hugged Alcanor, pulling him close. Alcanor tensed and hissed through his teeth but still wrapped his arm around Legolas. He felt himself being pulled aside, protected by the danger Alcanor undoubtedly perceived in Glorfindel and Erestor. For one long moment, Legolas indulged in hearing Al's heartbeat in the broad chest, then he carefully let go. The hiss had reminded him how injured Alcanor was even though the elf had hidden it to perfection. Not allowing signs of weakness, Legolas knew, not in front of their new friends.
"Is he really himself?" Eyaenne's voice had regained the usual sharpness, the light-hearted moment she had shared with Methelion gone.
"I feel no darkness linger within him," Erestor replied and in the vast halls, the wisdom colouring his speech revealed his age and experience.
"In that case, would you excuse us," Eyaenne said, staring at Glorfindel and Erestor. The balrog-slayer looked taken aback for a moment, however the Noldo by his side already replied.
"Of course," Erestor said, indicating a bow. The elf looked tired himself, Legolas note, but did not dwell on it. Tiredness was not uncommon in these halls, no matter the circumstances. If the Noldo required help, he would just have to speak up.
Meanwhile, Glorfindel did not seem to wish to comply with Eyaenne's demand as readily. Instead, he caught Legolas eye, raising a questioning brow.
"I'll see you later," Legolas said, smiling slightly at the protectiveness he received from both sides. However, he knew Glorfindel's presence would not aid at all and he knew his adaroth would understand. Alcanor did not trust them and the Crown Prince would not relax with either of them close by. And he needed a healer, he needed rest.
"Eyaenne?" Alcanor's demand for answers could have cut glass. Squeezing his arm in reassurance, Legolas turned back to him. It was Alcanor. Despite the sharpness and mistrust in his eyes being directed towards Legolas' friends, he could not help but grin through a veil of unbidden tears.
"Healing ward, now." Eyaenne pointed towards the stairs, her own relief no longer visible.
Legolas felt Alcanor wince and he knew he was in pain.
"She's right. You need a healer, muindor," he said, already pulling the older elf with him.
"Ai, what has happened?" Alcanor sounded worried now, his façade mostly gone with Glorfindel's and Erestor's exit.
"It's a long story, Al," Legolas said, pulling him further. He blinked tears away, his hand tightening around Alcanor's arm. He felt the trembling of muscles beneath his grasp and when he looked over caught the sheen of sweat and pain etched in the corners of silver eyes. At one point the Crown Prince stopped, leaning against the wall for support, breathing heavily.
"Shall we get you a stretcher, my love?" Roewen asked, brushing away silver hair.
"Aid me?" Alcanor rasped in return, his gaze weary.
Roewen ducked underneath her fiancée's arm, supporting his weight even while Legolas copied her movement on the other side. It was not far anymore, most likely the only reason Alcanor had decided against a stretcher. Thranduil had early on instilled on them that as warriors, it was their duty to see the wisdom of shedding their stubborn pride as soon as they entered the halls and of accepting aid. No warrior had the right to hide injuries and the healers could only heal them if they knew of the severity of their wounds.
They arrived at the healing ward and it seemed note of their arrival had proceeded them. Feras rushed towards them, quickly checking Alcanor over with soft, experienced fingers, directing him towards the operation room for further examinations.
Legolas and Roewen helped Alcanor to lie on the discoloured slab of wood, soft whimpers coming from the tall elf as the movement jarred his head.
"Feras?"
Legolas looked up and his jitters seized. Thranduil stood strong and proud, his features smooth but not cold.
"One minute!" The healer relented and busying himself with cutting fresh herbs and throwing them and other ingredients into a sieve for a strong pain reliever. Already, water was boiling over the small hearth and the smell of the fresh plants filled the air with familiar odour.
Legolas tried to step back to give his father room but Alcanor grasped his hand, silver eyes focused solely on him. Seeing the fear in his older brother was heart-breaking and Legolas forced a smile, tightening his grip instead of pulling away.
"Ion-nin," Thranduil said, causing Alcanor's attention to shift.
"Hir-nin," he said softly.
"Saes, Alcanor. Call me Ada."
"Ada," Alcanor whimpered and Legolas tightened his fingers once more. "What is happening?"
Slim fingers brushed over Alcanor's temple. "It will be alright, ion-nin. I will explain everything to you once Feras has checked your injuries. You are safe here and I shall not allow any more darkness to fall upon you. I am very proud of you." Tears started to fall over Thranduil's perfect cheeks and he smiled softly at his hurting son.
"I love you Ada," Alcanor whimpered.
"I know, ion-nin. I love you too. And I am so proud of you," Thranduil softly repeated his endearments.
"Everyone out!" Feras demanded harshly.
"No!" Alcanor growled, his hand tightening even as he winced.
"Legolas, you may stay, everyone else, get out!" Feras' voice brooked no further argument and Legolas watched Roewen drop a sweet kiss upon Alcanor's brow, smiling as her fiancée opened his mouth to protest further.
"I'll be right outside with Eyae," Roewen reassured him and then, reluctantly, she, Thranduil and the others left, only Legolas remaining standing besides his brother, silver eyes remaining fixed on him.
The healing ward had been too crowded. Thranduil had been pacing up and down, Daeros and Arahen occupying the balcony and Falin had continued to fidget so Eyaenne and Roewen had retreated into the hallway before the ward. Roewen could not stand to be near so many people as her own heart was beating fast enough without further excitation.
"He's fine," Eyaenne smiled, leaning against the wall. Methelion had once more volunteered to go and bring some food from the kitchens, pulling his partner in a tight embrace before he had left, soothing her with the gesture alone. Roewen had felt a twinge of jealousy, wishing she could have done the same with Alcanor. But at least she would be able to do so again. She would be able to hold Alcanor again, to talk to him, hear his surprisingly dry jokes and see his smirk. See the passion and adoration in his eyes as they made love. See him and not the orc he had been.
As the minutes passed, Eyaenne's ease fell from her.
"How is it he could leave the dungeons in the first place?" Eyaenne questioned, her friend feeling caged as she paced up and down the hallway. She might not look like her father; however she had copied many of his mannerisms.
Roewen cursed, the word slipping off her tongue so foul Eyaenne stopped in her tracks to turn and stare at her friend.
Completely still, Eyaenne watched the she-elf run an exasperated hand through her hair. "Usually I use that word. Why do you?" She asked, still unmoving.
"Alcanor locked Lord Elrond in the dungeon and I … I wasn't really there. I was so focused on Alcanor I did not do anything about it."
"He locked Elrond in the dungeons? Roewen, tell me sooner!" Rolling her eyes, the Princess quickly stepped into the Healing Ward. Telling Daeros about the issue at hand, she trusted her brother to take care of the matter while she remained at Roewen's side. Daeros listened and nodded, sidestepping her on his way out.
Returning to Roewen only seconds later, Eyaenne leant against the wall and crossed her arms.
"Roewen, how did Alcanor get out of the cell? And why did the guards not free Elrond?"
The she-elf frowned, apparently thinking back. By the pause alone before she answered, Eyaenne could tell just how shocked her friend had been. Not that she could blame her, she would have reacted in much the same way.
"He ordered them. Threatened them with guarding the vaults, I think. And ordered them to lock Lord Elrond up."
Incredulity washed over the Princess and she felt the insane urge to laugh. "So what, they just ignore that he had been a monster for months and go back to taking his orders? What are they, insane?"
"Peace, Eyaenne", Roewen sighed tiredly. "It must have been a difficult position for them as well. He was himself. You must admit that our guards have been under much stress for too long as well, never fully appraised of the situation. We can't expect them to be flawless when we are not. He did obey his Prince and stepping up and denying an order takes often more courage than throwing yourself into a battle where the enemy is clear."
Sighing, Eyaenne pushed away from the wall and walked to stand next to the slightly taller she-elf. Taking several moments, she then asked: "What should I do with them? Their behaviour was unacceptable. They should not have obeyed Alcanor's order under these circumstances. But your defence is sound as well."
"Just yell at them. Make them quiver in their boots and then let them off the hook. We need them but they also need to understand what they did wrong."
"At last! Someone I can justifiably yell at!" She grinned widely and Roewen laughed, wrapping her arms around Eyaenne's waist and resting her head on her shoulder.
"Eyae. Please tell me I did not dream", she asked quietly after a while, her arms tightening.
Eyaenne closed her eyes, reciprocating the light pressure. "You did not dream, Roewen. Alcanor is no longer an orc. He will get back to his self with time. But even now his love for you burns deep."
"Thanks," Roewen smiled and despite her gnawing worry for not having her finacée in sight, she relaxed and smiled.
Elrond paced the small cell. There were no wise thoughts to keep him occupied for all he could think about was Crown Prince Alcanor. He had not been well, disregarding his appearance at the time. No, Alcanor had not miraculously regained his spirit, the darkness had still clung to him and now he was wandering the halls of this great castle. What would happen when the orc resurfaced? Elrond's mind could not help but provide him with the horrid pictures of Legolas, injured and bloodied, of strong-willed Eyaenne, cruelly cut down and lying in a pool of crimson blood, her fierce eyes sightless. Of Daeros, slumped in a corner, the polite smile gone for once, of Arahen dodging the beast's slashes.
"Stop it," Elrond growled, fingernails digging into his palms. The helplessness had his heart beat fast and painfully against his ribcage, the air tasted stale and he could feel the adrenalin knotting his stomach while it rushed through his veins. And the constant gurgling of the river so far beneath him filled his ears almost deafeningly.
Dear Valar, he hoped Glorfindel would be ready to defend the Royal Family for there was simply no way for Thranduil to do so. Or maybe reliable Eyaenne would notice something wrong instead of rushing towards Alcanor, she had always been suspicious of everything, far more than Legolas, as Elrond had learned. Once the elfling came to trust you, he did so with few questions and Eyaenne had often reminded him to retain his sense of watchfulness whenever the elfling had relaxed too much in her opinion.
It helped little, these encouraging thoughts. Instead they drifted back to the horrible pictures with ease and once more Elrond's inner eye showed him blood and death.
"Enjoying the view?"
Elrond flinched, turning to face the warrior. He straightened, his brow darkened with his thoughts, his posture proud and lean, commanding attention. But there was no warrior whom he could impress with the obvious power in his stance. Instead, Daeros stood in the corridor and smirked, eyes sparkling in a bright light before he moved away. Reaching the guards, the Prince spoke to the guard and received the keys.
"You can't trust Alcanor!" Elrond beseeched, stepping closer to the bars.
"Patience, my Lord. Let me assure you my brother is fine." The key was inserted and Daeros opened the cell door, stepping away to allow Elrond exit.
"The Darkness still lingers," Elrond explained swiftly, already making to move past the lithe elf. But he was caught by the arm and Daeros raised a hand to implicate patience, smiling politely.
"Worry not, my Lord. Alcanor has regained his fea, thanks to the aid of Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor. We owe both a great debt. As we owe you, my Lord." Daeros bowed deeply, bringing his hand towards his chest.
"Are you certain?" The words would not sooth his heart, but he knew Daeros to not speak lightly.
"I am certain. Furthermore, Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor would not have denied truthful answer to my King when he expressed his concern for Alcanor's well-being. The Shadow was lifted and while the light has become unusual, it is very welcome." Once more, Daeros bowed, expressing his gratitude towards Glorfindel and Erestor. But despite his words, the shadows of past days still lingered in his eyes, as if he himself could not yet quite believe that after all these months, everything was well again.
"My Lord?"
"Yes, mellon-nin?" Concern raised its head in Elrond's chest when Daeros' questioning words rang softly through the air.
"Would you forgive me if I were to leave your side, my Lord? I know it is rude, especially after you were wrongfully forced to reside in one of our cells, my Lord, yet I ache to see my sister's grave. And as much as I appreciate your council, I do not wish for you to accompany me, for I have words for Iarith only meant for her ears, regardless of whether you speak my language or not."
Elrond sighed. He placed his hands on the elf's shoulders, meeting the silver eyes. "I understand, my friend. Just know, if you need companionship, I will always be available."
When Daeros made to once again bow and bring his hand towards his chest, Elrond rolled his eyes and pulled his friend into an embrace instead. Momentarily, Daeros tensed and stood still. But then he stiffly raised his arms and returned the hug before he stepped away.
"I hope none of your guards will attempt to throw me back into a cell?" Elrond reassured himself but Daeros nodded with a wry grin.
"They should not have obeyed Alcanor's commands. Eyaenne has already issued order to relief them of duty for the time being. Everyone else has been re-informed that you are our welcomed guest."
Nodding in thanks, Elrond gestured for his friend to leave, not wishing to keep him any longer from his sister's graveside. Meanwhile, he made a mental note to ensure Daeros would not remain with the dead for too long.
His eyes were silver. Legolas took a deep, soothing breath, hand tightening around Alcanor's.
"It will be alright, tithen Las," Alcanor reassured and Legolas nodded, blinking against his tears. It was only slowly sinking in. After all these months, after all his fear and pain.
"Hush, penneth, the wound is painful but not as bad as it looks," Alcanor soothed, brushing his thumb over Legolas' hand. Nodding again, the elf still could not help his tears. He bit his lip, taking another shaking breath.
"Ai, tithen Las. I will be fine. I will not be going anywhere."
Forcing himself to calm down, Legolas brushed over his cheeks. It had been years, decades even, since Alcanor had last seen him cry and he did not wish to burden his brother further with his tears.
"Tell me what happened?" Alcanor asked softly, keen eyes watching him even as his thumb continued to rub Legolas' hand. Then the injured elf winced and crunched his eyes shut when Feras applied a fresh salve to the wounds, groaning slightly. But then he blinked back up towards Legolas, the question clear in his pained gaze.
Legolas sighed, leaning forward and then began to recount what had happened to him. He spoke slowly, giving Alcanor time to understand. Listening intently, his brother's face gave nothing away of what he thought. When he concluded with his return to Mirkwood, Alcanor remained silent, obeying Feras when the older elf asked him to carefully sit up and drink a tea.
"I don't remember any of this. Where was I during this time?" Alcanor questioned then.
"Ada and Eyae could explain better. I wasn't here myself." Eyaenne had never spoken to him about what had happened, however he had heard the guards, heard them talk about their Princess going out to kill, defying all orders and regulations by going on her own without back-up. All he knew was that she and Falin had captured orc-Alcanor at Methelion's outpost and that they had then left for Imladris to get him.
"I want you to remain close by for the next two days. We can speak about excursions after that," Feras declared once he finished rebandaging Alcanor's hand.
Alcanor did not nod, a sign his head was still paining him, but gave his acquiescence with a smile. He brushed over Legolas' cheek and the younger elf allowed it to happen, knowing it was for reassurance sake. It made him feel like a child again and he no longer knew how he felt about that. He was warrior and he had fought hard to be respected as one by his much older siblings. At the same time, it felt good to not have to be responsible anymore, to let them handle everything. But he felt he had sat back for too long by now.
Shaking his head, he decided that was an issue to be thought about tomorrow. "The other's will want to see you. Do you feel up to it?" he asked. While the wound might not be too dangerous, Alcanor was still pained by it and the fight against the darkness, as well as their trek from the dungeons to here, had left him exhausted.
"Yes, I need to see them."
Roewen was the first to embrace Alcanor, her touch soft and her lips sweet as she kissed his collarbone. Alcanor held her tight, still able to see the distant signs of fading in her. Legolas smiled widely when he saw them together. This is how it was supposed to be.
It was clear Alcanor wished he could have held his fiancée forever, but Roewen quickly stepped aside.
Falin was next, embracing him swiftly before stepping away as well. Alcanor's eyes flickered over to Eyaenne but his sister had stepped back, arms crossed and was looking towards Arahen instead. Their younger brother looked tortured. There might not have been tears, but his face and stance gave away his turmoil. When he made no move to approach, Alcanor slowly stepped forward, hating to see Arahen so troubled. When he reached him, he raised his arms and embraced him, hearing a choked sob.
"And the little root agreed, maybe I am truly home," Alcanor quoted the children's book Arahen had read dozens of times to little Legolas. And finally, Arahen returned his embrace, squeezing him so hard Alcanor was glad for the pain reliever he had drunk earlier that dampened the spike of pain shooting up his spine.
Then it was Eyaenne's turn and she embraced him with care.
"You can do my paperwork to compensate all the troubles I had to put up with that would normally have been your job," Eyaenne murmured disgruntled and Alcanor laughed slightly. And Legolas' pride for his sister rose even further. She might lose her temper occasionally, but she was by far stronger than he himself.
His King's embrace was a surprise for the Crown Prince and Alcanor could not help but feel like a boy once more, wrapped into his Ada's protective arms, warm, thick fabric falling around him.
"Where is Daeros?" he asked then, turning to spot his brother.
Eyaenne looked confused and turned as well. "I did not even realise he hasn't come back yet."
"Back from where?" Thranduil asked, guiding his oldest son to sit on his bed. Legolas followed but he too felt concern for Daeros. Daeros often disappeared, but now? Surely, he wanted to see Alcanor as well?
"Alcanor locked Lord Elrond in the dungeon," Eyaenne grinned and Thranduil raised his brows.
Legolas winced. Elrond would not have appreciated that. Hopefully, the kind Noldo would once again forgive them. But then, Legolas could hardly imagine Elrond turning away because of Alcanor's action alone.
"I see."
"I sent Daeros to let him out. But he should be back by now. I'll check on him."
"I'll come with you," Alcanor said and made to raise to his feet.
"You are going to drink this tea and then sleep," Feras interrupted, leaving the adjoined room with a cup of steaming tea.
"That just means more of my paperwork for you," Eyaenne stated and left.
Roewen slipped into bed next to Alcanor and despite efforts to remain awake, the Crown Prince fell asleep. Thranduil sat down next to their bed and Arahen sat in his, leaning against the headboard, arms wrapped around his knees and head hidden in them. Falin sat next to him and wrapped an arm around him, leaving Legolas to be the one heading to the door when a loud discussion seeped through the thick wood.
Opening the door, Legolas was surprised to see guards next to it, denying Lord Elrond entrance.
"Elrond! What is happening here?" He closed the door behind him, crossing his arms.
"Your guards won't let me enter," Elrond said, the crease between his brows so deep, Legolas inwardly cringed. Recalling that Alcanor had apparently imprisoned the elf Lord Legolas owed so much had him wince even further.
"I retract all orders Crown Prince Alcanor has given in the last day," he quickly said to the guards, thinking he could settle the issue with that.
"Forgive me, my Prince, however our orders to deny Lord Elrond entrance come from Princess Eyaenne."
Legolas blinked and exchanged a glance with Lord Elrond. The Noldo seemed taken aback, even hurt.
"Did she say why she did not wish for Lord Elrond to enter?" Legolas asked carefully, feeling awkward. The wise, powerful Lord standing next to him had done so much for them and yet Eyae suddenly denied him entry? Just … why?
"No, hir-nin, she did not."
Cringing, Legolas gave a shrap nod. "Elrond," he then turned towards their guest, the apology clear in his voice.
Sighing, the elf Lord raised a hand. "Peace. I understand you do not want to go against Eyaenne's orders without knowing why she gave them." He sounded frustrated nonetheless and Legolas began to worry.
His lips thinning, the Noldo made to turn away just when the door opened and Eyaenne returned to the healing ward.
"Eyae!" Legolas said, not calling out as not to disturb the many patients. "Why did you deny Elrond entrance?"
Eyaenne gave him the look that clearly stated it should be obvious. Seeing Legolas did not understand, she huffed and crossed her arms. "Forgive me, Elrond, but I can't let you go in there. Alcanor already wakes from nightmares cursing your name, what do you believe would happen were he to wake up just to see you?" She carded through her curls and shrugged. "This room is Alcanor's sanctuary too and as much as I like you, you have little business in there. For Legolas' sake, neither Falin nor Arahen protested but with Alcanor back, there is no way I will allow you in there. I hope you understand that your presence would do far more harm than good."
Understanding crossed Elrond's features even though his lips thinned.
"We appreciate everything you did for us, Elrond," Eyaenne continued in softer tone. "But I just can't let you in there. Feras will take care of us, worry not. We could meet for dinner, if that would be alright with you?"
Legolas shifted, watching Lord Elrond. Praying to the Valar the Lord would agree. But of course, the kind brown eyes softened and Elrond nodded.
"I understand. Forgive me for pursuing the issue. It has been a long day with many unexpected turns."
Eyaenne smiled and nodded, changing the topic. "Do you happen to know where Daeros is? I have been looking for him."
The next couple of days passed in a blur. Elrond spent much of his time with Glorfindel and Erestor and daily, at least one of Thranduil's children sought their presence. Falin spent a lot of time with Erestor, Legolas showed Glorfindel the training grounds and clearly found joy in showing the balrog-slayer around and Elrond not only spent a lot of time with Prince Daeros who barely seemed to be in the Royal Healing ward, but to his surprise Eyaenne too sought out his presence. The Princess would claim a spot on his couch and sort through documents, mostly doing so in silence, a side Elrond had not yet seen in her before. Every now and then she would ask for advice and Elrond would give it gladly. She would even let herself into his rooms when he was not present and he had found her several times deep asleep upon his return.
From what he heard, Alcanor was healing, however the circles beneath their guests' eyes betrayed the uneasy sleep of the oldest Thranduillion. Apparently barely an hour would pass before Alcanor would wake with awful nightmares, robbing all of them of sleep. Eyaenne had fallen asleep on several occasions on Elrond's couch, Daeros tried vainly to distract Elrond's concern with smiles even while his eyes dropped and Falin was nodding off and jerking back awake far too often.
After a week, Thranduil invited Glorfindel, Elrond and Erestor to dinner at his table. Besides Alcanor and Roewen, everyone quickly found their seat, Methelion dressed in his armour as the elf had just come back from the training fields. Even so, despite their tiredness, it was clear that the mood had improved greatly. Eyaenne's skin was once more light and her lips always quirked into a smile, intensifying whenever she caught Methelion's gaze. Legolas, who had always been somewhat taciturn, spoke like a waterfall, drawing amused glances from everyone at the table, especially his siblings.
Upon asking to check his wounds, King Thranduil relented to Elrond's demand and the healer was happy to see the wounds slowly closing along the King's arms. Furthermore, the elf was gaining weight, more quickly than Elrond would have thought after having known Daeros for many years. His children too regained their strength but they gained weight at a slower rate, Eyaenne especially worrying Elrond despite the she-elf's obvious attempts to eat more.
All in all, Elrond's patience seemed to slowly be paying off and he could not help but be happy despite the long days of nothing to do besides writing letters to Celebrian and his children.
"Elrond?" A knock accompanied his name spoken in cool disregard. Yet still it caused Elrond's brow to raise to his hairline in quiet disbelief, for the speaker had chosen to forgo his title even while his voice remained calm. King Thranduil stood in the hallway, knuckles rapping against the doorframe.
"May I enter?"
"Of course. How may I help you?"
Thranduil stepped in, clad in his long, elegant robes and the rich fabric caught the light. It hid the narrowed frame so effectively, no one who did not know could possibly suspect.
"I have come to apologize for Prince Alcanor's behaviour. I deeply regret he injured and imprisoned you."
Even though the drawl remained as Thranduil slowly moved across the room, his words alone spoke truth, for the King was not known to issue apologies he felt undue.
"I would like to hear that apology from your son."
Thranduil huffed slightly and turned. He leant against a chest of drawers and crossed his arms, appearing strangely at ease.
"I could force him, if you so wish. However, I do not see the value in an apology that comes from a forced tongue. Do you?"
Rubbing his forehead, Elrond sighed once more. He had felt sympathy for Alcanor's suffering, had felt pity when he had lain eyes on the orc and imagined the elf trapped inside that darkness. But the pure anger he had seen in silver eyes was far less forgivable than the one seeping out of red eyes, for this anger truly had come from Alcanor himself. And then there were the scars and the countless hours Elrond had spent sitting awake with Elrohir, comforting his child when his dreams had been too painful for sleep. That he could not forgive as easily.
"No, don't force him," Elrond muttered, knowing that Thranduil was right and a forced apology would be worthless. "How is he?"
"Troubled. Feras speaks with him."
"Feras?" Elrond was confused for the King's answer had clearly been focused on Alcanor's mental well-being, not his physical and yet, somehow Mirkwood's Royal Healer was involved.
This time, no answer was forthcoming and when he turned to look at the King, Thranduil was already staring at him. Then the Sinda sighed audibly and lowered his head, forefinger and thumb pressing against the bridge of his aristocratic nose, eyes closed in a gesture Elrond knew all too well from himself.
A few controlled, deep breaths rang quietly through the sitting room. There were no windows, as in most rooms of the cavernous chambers of the castle. The rooms that had windows mostly belonged to the Royal Family or high-ranking advisors and their families or were part of the primary Healing Wards and large public chambers.
"Alcanor is a great warrior but he has seen too much. Has seen too much at an age too young." Thranduil's voice was soft and pained and Elrond barely dared breathing. This was nothing Thranduil needed to tell him nor something his children wanted him to reveal. And yet, the Sinda chose to trust Elrond and lay bare the regret in his voice that talked of his own mistakes.
"I wish I could have spared him this fate, but his people needed him, and I knew no way to spare him and the other younglings who are being taught to fight." Thranduil lowered his hand, eyes remaining closed. "He can be the most patient elf you have ever met but he can also be the most volatile. Speaking with Feras helps him. He always spares a few hours to talk with Feras whenever he is home."
Unbidden, Elrond remembered Alcanor, remembered how the young elf had spoken firm and decided words so many centuries ago, before Eranion had spilt his blood. The elf had been young when, incredibly young, a child many decades away from reaching his majority. If Alcanor had retained just a little of that eloquence, he indeed must be a valued contribution to any political discussion. And yet, so far Elrond had only seen disdain from the Crown Prince since their initial meeting. Even while he had tended his wounds, the heir of Mirkwood's throne had cursed him.
"The most patient elf?" Elrond could not help but repeat in slight disbelief.
"I may have exaggerated," Thranduil relented and raised his head, face carefully blank. "But he can indeed be very patient, far more patient than you probably believe him capable of. I have seen him in the council chambers discussing for hours, unrelenting where I would have long given up. He usually manages to convince others of his point eventually."
Elrond heard the pride in Thranduil's voice and decided against pursuing the topic further.
"How are the fights at the border going?" he asked instead. Wounded arrived in a steady stream at the stronghold and Elrond and Erestor spent much of their time at the healing ward.
Playing with one of his rings, Thranduil straightened. "They hold the border and the trees are awakening slowly to the presence of elves. The Darkness is driven back but I worry it might infect my warriors." He said nothing further and Elrond did not push either, knowing Thranduil would not confide in him his warrior's movements through the forest if not needed, not yet, when their trust was young still, though no longer as fragile as it had once been.
"Spring should lighten their spirits further."
"Yes. Tell me, Elrond, how much longer are you planning to stay?"
Had a Noldo asked Elrond a similar question, he would have understood the real message clearly: When are you finally leaving? However, Thranduil was no Noldo and the Sinda shared his people's blunt way.
"I would like to stay a few weeks more so that I may aid if my aid is required. I know Legolas wishes for Glorfindel to stay some time longer as well. There has been talk about strawberry pies."
Elrond could have sworn the King's lips twitched at that.
"You're welcome to stay. I would like your opinion on a matter," Thranduil changed the topic, causing Elrond's brows to raise.
"Yes?"
"Alcanor's wedding had been planned for this spring. I have not yet suggested it to him, but I think it may help him in his recovery. Yet I do not wish to push him should he need more time. His love for Roewen is steady and a ceremony shan't change it
Elrond blinked, walking over to fill his goblet with water. That was not the question he had expected, though admittingly, Thranduil had still refused to formulate it as a question anyway. However, it was a topic that clearly Elrond could not help with. Something the Sinda must know as well.
"Your son has been looking forward to his wedding and it was taken from him and Roewen by the darkness. Giving it back to them seems like a good idea to me. Do you not think it would brighten his spirits? Maybe give him something more joyful to focus on and take his mind away from his nightmares?" He had done the same, he remembered, when he had invited Penneth to the feast held at Imladris when the elf had still been injured. Glorfindel had even called him out on it and questioned the wisdom of inviting Penneth. And yet, it had helped Legolas despite the exhaustion the event had brought, and the elf had been happy and more relaxed the day after.
A knock at the door had Glorfindel frown and look up. Penneth was his most frequent visitor but the young elf knew he was welcome to enter whenever he please and needn't knock beforehand. Quickly setting his goblet with wine aside, he stood and walked to the door.
"May we come in?" Legolas grinned at him and gestured towards his company. Next to him stood Crown Prince Alcanor, body tense and eyes hard. Roewen held his hand and was brushing over his arm, the gesture soothing and evidence how little the elf wished to be here. She smiled at Glorfindel and it was good to see her again. Her stance proud and strong, a little bounce to her step and soft shine of her fea that surrounded her changed her almost completely from the burdened, struggling she-elf he had met so many weeks ago. Further in the back, Daeros looked like he had been urged along and just smiled politely.
"Of course," Glorfindel said and opened his door further, allowing his guests in. "May I offer some wine?" he offered before he realised he should not have offered an alcoholic beverage. Elrond would have his head. While Alcanor was still recovering from an injury, Daeros was still quite underweight.
"No, thank you," Alcanor denied, relieving Glorfindel of the duty to retract his earlier offer. For a moment the Crown Prince remained standing, demanding attention by his posture. Penneth meanwhile helped himself to some water before sitting down.
"I wanted to thank you for saving tithen Las' life," Alcanor surprised Glorfindel with his deep sincerity, bringing his free, no longer splintered hand towards his chest while bowing his head.
Reciprocating the movement, Glorfindel smiled before he gestured to the sofa.
"It seems to me you no longer need me to search for a Sinda willing to speak to you," Alcanor said drily, accepting the goblet his brother handed him. Legolas snorted and Glorfindel could not help a coughing laugh once he noticed the words had been spoken in jest. He had expected a tenser atmosphere but now noticed that Alcanor too had relaxed.
"Lord Glorfindel, this might seem like an odd request, but I want you to open your shirt," Alcanor continued, all signs of jest vanished, his face hard and his gaze like that of a hawk.
"What in Valar's name, Al!" Legolas cursed, sitting up abruptly.
"I swear no harm shall come upon him," Alcanor stated, raising his hands to show his innocence. "I just want him to take off his shirt."
"Eyae would have made an inappropriate comment right about now," Roewen muttered to herself and rolled her eyes. "Glorfindel, please, could you humour him."
Glorfindel stared, not quite knowing what was going on and next to him Legolas seemed just as clueless. Glancing to Daeros, he saw the Prince was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his polite smile replaced by a smirk. However Roewen seemed calm and apparently knew what her fiancée wanted. The elf in question remained calmly seated, one hand clasped with Roewen's, the other placed on his thigh.
Standing, Glorfindel unbuttoned his shirt. Just why would Alcanor wish to see the scars he had cut into Glorfindel's chest? His behaviour was too calm for it to be a display of power.
Opening his shirt, he quickly shed it and felt all eyes drop to his chest.
"Told you," Roewen turned to Alcanor and the elf relaxed visibly, shrugging before he reached for his goblet.
"You may put your shirt back on," Alcanor said, giving him a polite smile.
"Your scars are gone," Daeros informed him drily when Glorfindel just stared at Alcanor, not understanding what the elf had achieved with his demand.
A rush of heat washed over the balrog-slayer and he tilted his head, hands coming up to feel the skin above his chest. It was smooth. Smooth and unblemished, there was nothing there, not even a discolouration of the skin speaking of the scars he had born for years. He took a deep breath, blinking slightly.
"How did you do that?" he asked Alcanor, who was toying with his goblet.
"I did not do anything, my Lord. I just wanted to see whether the scars are still there or not." Smiling once more, Alcanor raised his goblet in salut.
"Is that why you came here? To check on my scars?" Glorfindel's fingers shook when he accepted his shirt Legolas was handing him.
"Nay. Legolas wanted me to come and talk to you. I admit I was not overly keen but he has his way of pursuing people." With that, the oldest Thranduillion glared at his younger brother.
"You don't say," Daeros muttered from his corner, shaking his head in mock severity.
Legolas grinned evilly. "Ah, it is nice to have some leverage."
"Careful, muindor. We have some on you too, you'd do well to not forget," Daeros said.
"Yes, well, at least he had to bribe me into meeting someone I do not like. He needed to bribe you to just spent some time with us. You've been away so much, I hardly remember we're related," Alcanor turned over his shoulder and then the bickering between the brothers began and Roewen groaned, her head dropping into her palm. Still, her lips were twitching and Glorfindel too could not help but laugh. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his chest, marvelling the smooth skin and the feeling of happiness slowly spreading.
Elrond ground the moonflower bolls into a fine dust, the pestle smooth against his palm. Feras had shown him to the small preparation room just the day before. The Noldo knew there were more, larger rooms were elves worked daily to produce medicine for hospitals along the border and in several villages as well as the first aid packages the patrols took with them. These long rooms were at the lower levels however and Elrond preferred to be close to Thranduil and his children in case they required his aid. This one was close to the healing ward instead, further away from the door leading outside.
The door opened unexpectedly and Elrond turned. His wrist stopped moving when he saw it was Alcanor who stood in the doorway. A hand still at the door, the other carrying fresh herbs, the Crown Prince stared at him, body tense, the muscles in his jaw working. Then, he slowly stepped in, allowing the door to fall shut.
"Do you wish for me to leave?" Elrond asked, carefully letting go of the pestle and folding his hands instead. His salve was nearly finished, it would be a shame to let it go to waste, however he did not wish to antagonize Alcanor further.
"No need," Alcanor stated after a second and moved past him, pulling utensils from shelves and laying fresh herbs onto the table, he proceeded to ignore Elrond. The elf lit a quick fire, measuring out water before he set it to boil. His movements were certain and precise, Elrond noticed. While the Noldo returned to his efforts of grinding bolls, Alcanor reached for a knife and proceeded to expertly cut the herbs. Their smell drifted up, fresh but bitter.
Transferring the contents of his mortar to a sieve, Elrond collected the fine dust and added it to the creamy swirl of his salve, using a wooden stirrer to mix it properly. Now only the oils of the nuts before him was missing.
"What are you making?" Elrond cut through the heavy silence. For a moment, the other elf froze but then he reached for the second bundle of herbs.
"Monte's draught," Alcanor said, sounding as aloof as his father. His knife moved quicker and for a moment Elrond feared he might injure himself.
"I have never seen the herb you are using. Is it just a replacement for hedge vetch or does it improve the draught?"
A longer pause, Alcanor pushing the cut herbs into a bowl before cleaning his knife on some cloth.
"It's no herb, my Lord, it's the young shoots of lenchinacea, an epiphyte that grows on our most ancient trees. If added fresh, it improves the draught." His jaw was working, and the elf stared at the filled bowl before him, knife place by his side on the counter.
Grinding the nuts into the paste Elrond needed took time. Normally he would have used a counter mill, but he had not seen one in here and it gave him the opportunity to linger without appearing as if he wished to force his presence on the Crown Prince.
"I need you to leave, my Lord," Alcanor said abruptly, hands tightening around the counter edge. His eyes had darkened, and Elrond realised he was struggling to hold his temper. Willing his own patience to remain with him for longer still, Elrond immediately stepped away from his station and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The next moment, a crash had him flinch and stare at the closed door. The sound as if someone was kicking the furniture had his brows raise and concern reigned him when he heard Alcanor hitting a cabinet. Then it was still once more.
Maybe he should not have forced the conversation, Elrond thought to himself, glad to have left without an attempt to talk more when Alcanor had requested his leave. There would be no rapport between them, Elrond realised, not yet for many years to come and he felt tired after having dealt with Thranduil and his children for so long. The thought made him pause for the wise elf realised he had gifted the King and Legolas and Eyaenne each with more patience.
None of them have cut their initials into Elrohir's chest, an angry voice spoke within him. But then, none of them had been nearly killed by his advisor. None had found their dying sister who accused an elf admitting his guilt when asked. Truth be told, Elrond no longer knew. But he did know that he held little love for Alcanor. And yet, Legolas has held little love for them as well in the beginning and he had thought the elf stubborn and silly. What would his words mean if he now behaved the same way, allowing his emotions to get in the way of his words? He had always prided himself to have the patience to listen people out and to give them a chance to change.
The door opened and Alcanor's silver eyes found his.
"You may enter if you so wish," the elf said, turning back.
Slowly following him, Elrond saw the room was a mess. Equipment had been thrown to the ground, the boiling water had spilled on the floor, the pot lying on its side, a knife was stuck in a cabinet. And Elrond's station was completely untouched.
Alcanor got a rag and crouched to wipe the floor. Reaching for another rag, Elrond joined him, ignoring the look he received in return. Silently, the two elves cleaned the floor and afterwards, the older healer put fresh water into the pot, setting it back over the fire while Alcanor pulled the knife out of the dark wood. Inspecting the damage he had done, Alcanor sighed.
They returned to their individual work. The Crown Prince worked even quicker than before and soon his draught was finished and bottled while Lord Elrond was still grinding his nuts which had turned into a paste by now but not as fine as it needed to be.
"Lord Elrond," Alcanor said as a way of taking his leave, then the Noldo was alone in the room once more.
Sighing, Elrond rubbed his temples. There was a long path ahead of them yet and for the first time, he was uncertain if he was willing to tread it. He could not forgive Alcanor the scars he had cause in Elrohir, could not forgive the elf's violent temper.
The next time Elrond saw the oldest Thranduillion came sooner than he would have thought. Just before dinner, a knock sounded at Elrond's door and the healer stood to open it.
"My Lord Elrond," Alcanor said, bowing by the waist.
"Crown Prince Alcanor," Elrond mirrored the gesture, feeling tense once more.
The elf pulled forth a letter, heavy parchment with a red seal. "This is an invitation to my and Roewen's wedding. It shall take place in one week. I am uncertain whether you will remain with us for this long and ask that you give notice, preferably written notice."
Ah, so Thranduil had talked to his son, Elrond thought, slowly accepting the letter.
"How are you doing, Crown Prince? Your hand seems to have healed." Even in his own ears, the normally easy questions sounded stilted and Elrond once again felt doubt stir within him. Just why was it so difficult to extend his patience to this particular elf?
„My hand is none of your business. Let's face it, my Lord, you and I will never be friends," Alcanor stated calmly, his voice eerily similar to Thranduil's drawl. "I cut my initials into your son's chest and I don't regret it in the slightest and this is something you will never forgive me, never would even if I did regret it. Meanwhile, you still haunt my nightmares. I make you responsible for everything and I know you will just self-righteously clap yourself on the shoulder and be self-assured that none of this could possibly be your fault and that I am just a narrow-minded, stupid and cruel elf."
"Then why invite me to your wedding?" Elrond asked, struggling to keep his voice even and not react to anything Alcanor had just said. For the elf was right, they would not agree on this and Elrond indeed thought of the other as blinded and narrow-minded, though he would never claim the elf to be stupid.
"Trust me, I don't want you to be there," Alcanor said tonelessly, staring blankly at him. "It is the one day of my life that should be perfect. And yet I remain Crown Prince and you remain Lord Elrond and I do not get my wishes. So I must invite you to my grand day and hope you will not diminish my joy, though I feel dread clamping down on my soul every time I see you."
Though his eyes remained dry and his voice steady, Elrond could still sense the pain in the elf before him. He was no longer the elfling he had met so many years ago in Imladris and Elrond would never forgive Alcanor for what the Prince had done to Elrohir … but still he felt sorrow well up within him. Sorrow upon realising that the elf was forced to invite him to his wedding. Elrond could see what that one day meant to the Crown Prince and he could see the dislike the other harboured for him.
"Glorfindel's scars are gone. How did you do that?" he demanded to know. Maybe, if the elf helped Elrohir to simply get rid of those dreadful scars, maybe Elrond could forgive him even a little.
"I did not do anything. When I made those cuts, I intended for them to forever remain on their chests, tied to my sister's fate. Alas, my sister lives - to your great advantage. Her forgiveness has healed those scars, nothing I did. She has forgiven Lord Glorfindel, but she has not forgiven your son, my Lord."
Anger welled up in Elrond. He forced himself to remain calm, but it took greater effort than it had ever done before. "Eyaenne does not sugar-coat things and I can hardly imagine her speaking anything but the truth. She has forgiven Elrohir."
"No, she hasn't," Alcanor said crossed his arms. "The mind does not dictate the heart. As much as she tells herself she has forgiven him, there still is a kernel of doubt in her, otherwise his scars would have faded much the same way Lord Glorfindel's did. She was dying because your son decided to distract her, to kiss her in the middle of a battle. She almost died, was in great pain and she looked in your son's face when it happened, believing him to be the cause of it. No matter what she tells herself, part of her still remembers the pain, the fear and his face. She has not forgiven him. And speaking to her about the matter will not put her mind at ease. If she knows it is her lack of forgiveness that causes Elrohir's scars to remain, the pressure she will henceforth put on herself to forgive him will ensure she never will. There is nothing you can do."
With that, the elf bowed once more and then turned, leaving Elrond to stand at the door and looking after him, invitation in hand and emotions in his chest he could not quite place. Strangely, so Elrond noticed one hour later, sipping at his Dorwinion, he felt less anger towards Alcanor now. He looked over to the Prince, catching a rare smile when the elf spoke to his fiancée, his entire face lightening up with love. Elrond's gaze wandered, finding Eyaenne and slowly he began to understand. She was smiling, swirling her water as if it was wine while deep in a discussion with Legolas. Then she laughed, shaking her head. Beneath the table, Methelion's hand rested reassuringly on her knee.
She had nearly died, Elrond knew. Regardless of Elrohir's feelings towards Eyaenne, he should not have kissed her during a battle. And even after all these years, Eyaenne still associated Elrohir's face with pain. How much had that experience formed her? Caused her diligence, her need to remain attentive at all times, even now, her harsh demand towards Legolas and others to remain alert at all times?
Shaking his head, Elrond refused to further explore the maze of thoughts that would only lead him in circles. Maybe it was time for a new beginning and to allow future actions to draw the picture that so far was clearly distorted by many layers of bitter thoughts. If Alcanor was truly the cruel elf he had witnessed in his son's scars, that elf would reveal himself. If he was not or if he had changed for the better, the elf had deserved the chance to show it.
He felt eyes on him and when he turned, Alcanor looked at him, contemplative.
"You might be right," he then said, causing Roewen to raise her brows for he had clearly not spoken to her. "Maybe a new picture is what both of us need."
For a moment, Elrond did not understand but then he remembered all those years ago, when Alcanor had heard Elrond's thoughts as if they were words spoken aloud.
To new pictures, he thought, focusing on the words in his head. Alcanor raised his glass and knocked it back.
The wedding day had come upon them swiftly. The days had passed quickly and Eyaenne had spent most of it working and catching up on sleep whenever she could. Now, she was pulling on her blue dress and she had butterflies in her stomach. Smoothing out the fabric, Eyaenne stared at her reflection and wondered just why she was so nervous. It was not her wedding, after all.
Without conscious effort, her mind brought up Methelion's words. That one day, he would ask for her hand in marriage. She grinned and scowled the moment she caught herself grinning.
Her finger slowly drew along the ragged line in her décolleté. Her own scars, where the spider had pierced her so many years ago. Quickly, she shook off Elrohir's face before her and the taste of blood on her lips, dropping her hand.
"You look amazing," a soft voice spoke behind her and she turned, blushing when she spotted Methelion. The archer was wearing his normal clothing and now pushed away from the door frame, coming closer, his eyes openly appreciating her body.
"And you're gorgeous," she grinned, mirroring him and letting her eyes rake across him. And Valar, he was. The leather clothing accentuated his broad shoulders and slim waist and his brown hair was braided in warrior's braids, tall and strong and with a teasing tilt to his lips. She wished he could stay with her today.
"I wanted to ask you something," she said, her mouth suddenly dry. Methelion raised a brow and seriousness washed over him. He reached for her hands and looked down at her.
"I really don't want you to feel obliged," Eyaenne started, scared she could be pressuring Methelion into something he did not want to do. "I would understand. But I wanted to ask you … would you go out there? With me? For all of them to see?"
For one moment, the archer's eyes widened as if he tried to catch up with what Eyaenne had just said. His mouth opened and he stared at her. And then he stepped forward and took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply.
Eyaenne laughed, putting her hands against his chest and pushing him away slightly. „You haven't answered my question yet." She wanted to hear it, wanted to hear Methelion tell her, wanted the archer she had fallen in love with look at her while he replied. It wasn't a small step. Standing before her people, opening himself up for the gossip, the expectations, the responsibilities, it was nothing she wanted to pressure him into. She would understand if he did not want to. They had only met a few months ago after all.
Methelion smiled and pulled her closer once more. His fingers splayed across her back, one hand up between her shoulder blades, the other pressed firmly against the small of her back. His heavy breathing intermingled with hers, his forehead resting against hers even as he pressed her body flush against his own. She felt his chest rise and fall against her own with each deep breath they took.
"Princess Eyaenne," he murmured. "Will you be my date tonight?"
The tears coming to her eyes surprised Eyaenne, but she was already smiling widely, a joy she had never before known filling her heart. „Yes." She laughed, kissing him, tasting his sweet lips, feeling his soft hair between her fingers as she pulled him closer.
"I am just afraid I have nothing better to wear," Methelion frowned once they had broken apart and looked down at himself. His clothing was the rugged wood elf clothing most soldiers wore in their off-time, decent, robust cloth and leather, yet not quite as restricting as their actual armour. Meanwhile Eyaenne was dressed in a flowing dress in deep blue silk, the fabric soft beneath Methelion's hands as he brushed over her waist.
"You don't need anything else," Eyaenne smiled. Many elves would wear clothing like Methelion's. They were a people of the forest and of war, after all, no Noldor used to fine fabrics and elegant cuts.
She quickly pulled one of the silk ribbons from her braid. Pulling Methelion's arm closer, she proceeded to tie the blue ribbon around his upper arm. She smiled upon seeing it.
"Now everyone will know you belong with me."
Methelion smiled. "You know, I think I could have established that by just doing this." He kissed her again before she had the chance to come up with a snarky reply. Then he took her hand and together they walked towards the great gates, a smile on both on their faces.
Her Ada looked towards them, clad in rich garments of silver and light silver-blue to accentuate his son's tunic of much darker blue. From outside, they could already hear the elves, dancing, singing, waiting. All of their guests were outside, as well as Eyaenne's brothers, including the groom.
"I will see you later," Methelion grinned, kissing Eyaenne's cheek. He would slip into the crowd. Eyaenne could not go with him because she would stand by Roewen's side. Roewen had no family left. Instead, Eyaenne, as her best friend, would lead her out to her husband to be.
The ceremony was a blur of awed silence, her father's deep voice as he bound Alcanor and Roewen together as husband and wife and then Eyaenne gave her blessing in place of Roewen's family. And then, cheering swamped them and the grinning couple stepped down the podium to accept well-wishes. The air smelled of spring and the very first strawberry pies of the season were brought forth. Remaining at her best friend's side, Eyaenne's eyes sought out Methelion and she found the elf quickly, grinning widely as she did.
An arm wrapped around her waist and in the next moment Roewen was leaning into Eyaenne. A bright smile adorned her friend's face a smile she knew would not vanish today and her friend would carry the happiness of the day with her for all the years to come. Even now she was still clasping Alcanor's hand, though her brother had turned away and was chatting with an old friend of his.
„As much as I love you smile," Roewen grinned and her voice was heavy with teasing, „that grin is way too stupid to only be there because of Alcanor's and my wedding."
„I am happy for you! More than that, I am delighted!" Eyaenne protested, kissing Roewen's cheek. Today was a day she too would cherish for centuries to come and her happiness burned so bright in her heart it felt like it would surely be about to burst.
„I know you are. And now come on, what happened? Did Methelion tell you he loves you?"
Eyaenne blushed slightly and laughed, leaning in towards Roewen and whispering into her ear.
„Dear Valar!" Roewen yelled, leaning away and staring at her best friend with wide eyes before she engulfed Eyaenne in a tight hug, nearly choking her in her excitement.
„What did I miss?" Alcanor's amused voice rang up, his hand suddenly free and his wife wrapped around his sister. Under her older brother's gaze, Eyaenne blushed.
„Methelion is my official company today," she finally said and Alcanor's eyes widened. He was searching her face and her grin told her all he needed to know. He too realised how big a step this was.
„Congratulations." He smiled even wider than he had before, as if the news had made his own wedding day even better. In fact, he was so happy tears started to stream over his cheeks and he quickly pulled both she-elves into a mighty embrace, kissing Eyaenne's temple and then thoroughly snogging his wife.
„I don't want to be involved in this! Seriously, Alcanor!" Eyaenne shrieked and poked her brother in the side, causing him to break his kiss up and laugh loudly. „You two are disgusting."
„You were no better with Methelion!"
„And yet you were not standing directly next to him while I kissed him!"
„Yes, where is your lucky elf anyway?" Alcanor let go of them and searched the crowd that had started cheering at them.
Eyaenne turned and immediately found Methelion. She had not lost sight of him since the feast had started and whenever he looked her way, she felt her own grin broaden even more.
"Captain!" Alcanor's voice raised over the crowds and he waved the archer to come over. Turning, a large grin on his face, he winked at Eyaenne.
"Don't call him that," his sister demanded.
Alcanor frowned, hesitating. Next to him, Roewen elbowed him but he truly did not know what to do or say. Eyaenne looked around, refusing to meet his gaze, nestling with her silken dress.
He stared at her. He wasn't used to his sister being so … vulnerable, for the lack of a better word. The joy that had lit her world just seconds ago seemed to have vanished and at the thought that he was somehow responsible, Alcanor's chest constricted.
Hooking his arm around her neck, Alcanor pulled Eyaenne into a gentle embrace, feeling her arms wrap around his waist.
"Methelion," he said softly, whispering in her ear. "His name is Methelion. I will call him that."
Eyaenne nodded against his neck, her arms tightening. Comforting Eyaenne felt strange and before his inner eye he once more saw the injured little girl his sister had once been. Over the centuries, he had forgotten about her, had not seen her beneath the rough exterior of the warrior Princess she had become. Just what had she suffered during his absence?
"You really love him, don't you?" Alcanor murmured, drawing circles over her arm.
"You really love Roewen, don't you?" Eyaenne shot back.
Laughing, he let go of her, relieved to see her joy had returned as easily as it had vanished. It seemed it had truly bothered her that he kept using her archer's rank.
"Forgive me, a silly question," he conceded with a soft smile, linking hands with his newly wed wife.
Captain Fenelysus dismounted and handed the reigns of her horse to the equerry who approached her almost immediately. Through the trees, she could already hear laughter, voices and music, mixing with the song of the trees. She had heard the trees' happiness even at the border, the good news crossing Mirkwood within minutes. Their Crown Prince would get married today.
Fenelysus had never been more surprised than when she had received a personal invitation. Standing in her battle gear at the border, blood still drying on her clothes, she had stared at the letter for several minutes before handing it off to her second in command, for surely, she must have misread. But no, she had indeed been personally invited, despite never having met the Prince in person. Furthermore, quick enquiries had confirmed that no other captains had received invitations, not those stationed at the border they had to hold.
She could not have declined, despite the wonder that still held her, and so Fenelysus had handed over command to her second before belatedly mounting a horse and heading back to the Castle. Judging by the voices and sound of dancing, she had missed the actual wedding despite her haste and she now found herself uncertain as to where to go. Surely the Crown Prince and his bride did not have the time to take personal congratulations by everyone present and yet, the letter in her pocket bore the King's signature and his seal.
She would attempt to give Crown Prince Alcanor and his bride her congratulations and thank them for the invitation, she decided, feeling like she was wasting time. As much as her heart yearned to enjoy this, to enjoy the happiness and truly celebrate their future King, her warrior's side reminded her that her people were still at the border, her soldiers might be fighting right now. It was her duty to be with them in these times.
Ascertaining herself that she looked somewhat representable despite her sullied armour, Fenelysus marched towards the celebration. A smile quickly found a way to her lips and her spirits lifted almost instantly. It was impossible to not soak up the lightness, the freedom, the utter joy in the air. The sun shone down on the celebration, music drifted through the air, elves were singing and dancing together beneath the trees. In passing, Fenelysus reached for some stew, realising just how hungry she was. Quickly devouring the fine meal, she felt even better afterwards, handing the dish back to a helpful elf singing while he washed stacks upon stacks of bowls with several others.
Fenelysus could not help but search the crowd for familiar faces. She spotted some and despite the inkling of guilt, stopped to talk to them. However, she parted soon, intend on heading to the King first before she joined in the dancing for a bit longer. Only minutes later she had made her way to the large plain before the bridge heading into the castle. There was a large pedestal upon which the wedding ceremony no doubt had taken place and a large table standing before it, the King's throne in the centre and the seats of the Royal Family and delegates along the table. A small fence of colourful ribbons allowed the higher-ranking elves some space and privacy, as to not be overwhelmed by well-wishers, however she could see Crown Prince Alcanor dance amidst the crowd with his wife, a large grin on his face. For a moment, she focused on the Noldor of whose presence they had heard at the border. It was strange to have them here, but they were laughing and talking with the Royal Family in amicable peace and ease.
Seeing the King had Fenelysus stop for a minute. Long, silver-white hair flowing over strong shoulders, the elf nursed a goblet of dark wine, lips quirking into a teasing smile. She stood there and watched him, admiring his ease and smooth movements, then she shook herself out of her thoughts and straightened her shoulders, deciding she should attempt to approach him. Searching for the letter, she paused when she saw a familiar face in the crowd. Almost instantly, the King was forgotten and excitement rushed through her mixed with disbelief. Quickly, she pushed through the crowd, following the head of brown hair. Methelion approached a she-elf from behind, wrapping his arms around her and Fenelysus stopped in surprise. Raising both brows, she watched as the female turned in her son's arms and then kissed him gently. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and the sleeve of her dress was made from the same blue silk fabric that was tied around Methelion's upper arm. Fenelysus smirked and peace filled her despite her surprise. Smiling, she moved closer.
"Methelion, are you going to introduce us?" Fenelysus asked with a teasing grin, crossing her arms.
Her son and his partner broke their kiss and Methelion whirled around. His eyes went wide.
"Nana?" He asked in disbelief and then he laughed, striding towards her and engulfing her in a strong hug. Closing her eyes, Fenelysus returned the hug, grinning with pride and love for her son. Ai, she had missed him. She always worried for him, of course she did. Her worry accompanied her wherever she went and to know him here safe lifted her spirits even further than the celebrations around them had. She kissed his cheeks, smiling at him once they pulled back.
"What are you doing here, Nana?"
"I had Ada invite her," someone else cut in from behind him and when he turned, Fenelysus broke into a cough. The she-elf her son had been kissing … it was Princess Eyaenne.
"Hiril-nin!" Fenelysus gasped. My Lady. Looking from her son to her Princess, she was quite simply shocked.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. Methelion has told me a lot about you." Despite the smile she sent Methelion, the Princess sounded regal and formal.
"Nana, I would like to introduce you to Eyaenne. She carries my heart." Methelion's words removed all doubt and she could see the adoration in his face as he looked at the Princess.
"And he mine," Eyaenne added, softer than before and this time Fenelysus caught the nervousness that carried in her speech.
Fenelysus felt like laughing for there was no other way to react, glancing from Methelion to Princess Eyaenne and back.
"Ada was right, Nana," Methelion eventually said. He reached for Eyaenne's hand and intertwined their fingers, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he lost himself in his partner's eyes. "I have found my Princess."
Now Fenelysus did laugh, recalling her at the time so young son's fear of being sent away to live with the Royal Family because Nirran had always called him his 'little Prince'. Ai, her husband would be as shocked as he would be amused when he learned about Methelion's romantic relationship.
"It is a pleasure to meet you … Eyaenne," she said, adding the name after slight hesitation, dropping the title that so urgently wished to be spoken.
"It is an honour to get to meet you as well," someone else cut in before Eyaenne could react and when she turned, Fenelysus saw her Crown Prince stand before her. "You have a wonderful son, Captain Fenelysus. We have all come to appreciate him, most of all my sister, of course."
"Thank you, hir-nin." She could not help but grin, watching Eyaenne's face as the Prince went and interfered the way only a brother could, teasing and embarrassing at the same time.
Crown Prince Alcanor's grin turned indecently wide and he winked at his sister who blanched in return. "Methelion," he turned to Fenelysus' son, "may I have this dance? I am sure your mother and Eyae will love to get to know each other without our hovering." With that, he offered Methelion a hand.
"I'll be back right away," Methelion grinned, ignoring Eyaenne's shocked face. He waved to Fenelysus and kissed Eyaenne before he accepted the Crown Prince's offer and together the two elves entered the dance floor, leaving Princess Eyaenne and Fenelysus to stand alone under the tree. Fenelysus laughed and watched her son for a moment. Then, she tilted her head to the side, watching the Princess. "We could give them a scare and pretend to have a massive fight," she suggested with a sly grin of her own.
The she-elf looked at her, mischief sparkling in her eyes and Fenelysus could see she was tempted. But then she shook her head. "As much as I'd love to, I can't do that to him." Her face turned grim and she turned to watch Methelion dance with Crown Prince Alcanor, shooting her glances every time he had the opportunity to do so. Once their gazes met, the smile returned to her face and she waved.
"He'll manage," Fenelysus said, shrugging, watching her son dance with the heir of the Mirkwood throne. Some part of her refused to believe this was really happening, that she was truly casually talking with her Princess, that her son and said Princess were in love with each other.
"You don't understand. The last months were difficult for my family. And I dragged Methelion into this and I know it was difficult for him also for he saw our mourning and stood by me through the darkest nights, despite his own worries weighing on his heart. I know he was looking forward for us to meet and he was excited." She smiled, an unexpected tremulousness lingering that Fenelysus thought was adorable.
The finely dressed she-elf cleared her throat when Fenelysus smiled and quickly continued: "He is convinced we will get along well. I can't pretend to have a fight to give him a scare. I just can't endure the thought of hurting him like that, even if it is just for a few minutes. Methelion would worry and doubt would linger in his thoughts for years to come."
Listening to her reasoning had Fenelysus grow sombre at first for she heard the pain in this warrior's voice, but she also heard Eyaenne's dedication and love for her son. And she was astounded just how normal the she-elf sounded, speaking of her family without any indication that they were the most powerful family in Mirkwood, that they were the Royal Family with responsibilities, obligations and problems far greater than anyone else's. No one in Mirkwood would deny their Royal Family invested everything into their people and land.
"Well, how about a hug then?" She suggested instead, smiling once more at the knowledge that Methelion had given his heart to someone who clearly cared for him in return and who had no intention of hurting him.
Princess Eyaenne blushed, fiddling with a fold of her blue silken dress and Fenelysus grinned about her nervousness. In her opinion, everyone should be a bit nervous when meeting their partner's parents.
Stepping up, she embraced the young she-elf, ignoring the tiny voice reminding her that she was her Princess. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Eyaenne," she said, tightening her arms around the shockingly thin warrior before she pulled away and grinned once more. "And now we should find you something to eat," she decided and Eyaenne laughed, cheeks blushing further as she smoothed down her dress, apparently very aware of how thin she was.
"Methelion insisted you would first embrace me and then challenge me to a duel," Eyaenne said, sounding far more at ease now. And rather eager for the duel, Fenelysus noticed.
Fenelysus grinned. "My son knows me well. Worry not, that challenge will come soon."
Together, they found some food and Eyaenne led her towards the King's table, introducing her to her father before taking a seat. And Fenelysus found herself sitting next to the King and amicable exchanging words. King Thranduil praised her son and the words of thanks he had towards Methelion had Fenelysus pride swell.
Legolas knelt next to Iarith's grave. His mind was empty. Still filled with laughter and joy from the wedding, still filled with all the happiness he had the fortune to experience.
"I wish you could have been here," he said. "You would have loved it. You could have teased Eyaenne and Methelion endlessly. But then, I don't think Eyae would have even minded. She really likes him. I know, will wonders ever seize? And maybe you could have forced Daeros to dance with you. And I … I missed you a lot today, Iarith. I wish you could have been there. I am so sorry you died because of me and I … I am just sorry."
"She did not die because of you."
Legolas flinched, sighing right afterwards, having recognized Alcanor. His brother came closer and crouched down besides him. He was still wearing his sharp tunic of deep blue fabric, his silver hair spilling over his shoulders.
"Iarith is well. I met her. She was rather annoyed she could not ground you for risking your life to save me."
Legolas stared at him, uncertain if Alcanor spoke the truth. But the older elf just smiled tightly and squeezed his shoulder.
"Come on. You have paid your respects. Let the dead rest in peace. There are plenty of living for you to talk to." Slowly standing, he threw an arm around Legolas shoulder. Before he turned away, Alcanor hesitated, glancing down at the grave.
"I love you Iarith. Rest in peace. I'll take care of tithen Las." With that, the two brothers turned and Legolas felt himself guided back inside. Roewen was awaiting them and instead of just reaching for her new husband, she embraced Legolas too.
"We all miss her." She made no attempts to ease his dolour but her and Alcanor's presence worked better than a thousand words.
"Adaroth," Legolas smiled upon seeing Glorfindel enter. At this, all heads turned. Glorfindel noticed that the Prince's siblings scanned him with critical eyes. Of course they had understood how their baby brother had just called him: Uncle. After some consideration, Daeros smiled and turned back to his map, apparently fine with the title. The other siblings reluctantly followed his example, though they were sneaking looks at both the balrog-slayer and Legolas. They did not seem to accept said title just yet.
Thranduil's gaze was the most unsettling. It seemed as if the King was considering whether he could get away with killing him or if he would be in trouble with Legolas if he did, staring him down with utter coldness.
"Did you have to call him Adaroth?" The King then turned exasperated to Legolas with a roll of his eyes and slightly peeved undertone.
Legolas nodded distractedly and with the slight upturn of lips that always seemed to adore his face.
The King sighed but then gestured for Glorfindel to sit and he turned back the work in front of him.
"You don't know what it means, do you?" Thranduil's calculating voice disrupted his thoughts not even a minute later. The King still had his quill in hand and was reading a document with his brows drawn together before he signed it and moved it to the 'done' pile by his side. Only now did he look up again.
"It means 'uncle'," Glorfindel replied evenly.
Thranduil's lips shifted into a smirk.
"Oh, it means a lot more than just that," he said with a hint of distaste in his voice. He pulled another document in front of him and began scanning it.
"What does it mean, then?" Glorfindel asked, aware that the King's children were all listening into their conversation. While Daeros and Arahen did so openly, the others pretended to be still caught up with their own activity, failing terribly at it. Falin was staring at the document in front of him and his entire posture gave him away. Legolas could not keep from throwing amused glances and Eyaenne had found a newly developed interest in the spines of the books placed on the table.
"The word is made up of two others. Naroth, which means brother, and Adar, which means the same as it means in Sindarin. One would translate Adaroth as 'my father's brother'. Essentially, it does not simply mean 'uncle'. By calling you this, Legolas made you my gwador. Without asking, I might add!" At this, Thranduil glared at his youngest whose eyes sparkled with mirth.
Glorfindel laughed, causing Thranduil to bestow a glare upon him as well.
"You could have called him Nanaroth, I am sure your mother would have been thrilled," Thranduil growled at his son in acted anger, signed the document with a flourish and moving it to the side.
"Ai, Ada, you know one cannot choose family and yet it is the strongest bond."
"Bloody Silvans. Only they could come up with such ridiculous rules," Thranduil muttered so softly under his breath only the balrog-slayer was close enough to hear. And only now did he understand what Legolas had done by simply calling him this name: Just like Thranduil had said, Legolas had made him to be the King's brother. However, that was to be taken literally. He recalled how Methelion had knelt in front of him and called him 'hir-nin' as soon as he had heard Legolas address him with the title. As the King he was, Thranduil obeyed the rules of the Silvans, especially as his children were part Silvan as well. Therefore, he would no longer be able to disapprove of Glorfindel's presence, no matter what. Glorfindel was now Thranduil's brother.
"Did you just curse, Ada?" Eyaenne asked suddenly, eyes narrowed, arms crossed. "Why is it you are allowed to and I am not?"
"I am the King. I can do whatever I want, iell-nin," Thranduil smirked and then laughed at his flustered daughter.
"You got a stubborn son, mellon-nin," Glorfindel laughed. My friend.
"One? Ai, all my children are stubborn! It is a shame they are not more like their mother," Thranduil huffed. He stopped writing then and looked up, meeting Glorfindel's blue eyes.
"Nay, I would have it no other way. Otherwise, they all would have died. Alas, they are too stubborn to do that and for that I am eternally grateful. I shall even put up with you, gwador," Thranduil said seriously. Brother in heart.
For the first time, Glorfindel saw him smile. And only now did he realise how much Legolas looked like his father, because, unlike his siblings, he had inherited his Ada's smile.
The End
Please review!
Finally, this story has come to an end. It has taken me almost six years and countless hours spent thinking and writing. Some of you have stuck with me since the beginning, some of you joined me along the way. I know, not all questions have been answered. I had more stuff written but as nice as it was, it did not fit in here. I chose to finish storylines instead of answering questions. I hope those of you who have read this entire story will all be kind enough to leave a review now! What did you like, what did you dislike, what have I missed? Also, would you guys be interested in a (much shorter) sequel to this, exploring Alcanor's and Elrond's relationship as well as answering some questions you might have?
