Chapter Fifteen
SUMMARY: Evvy and Orlin return home with news for their mother, who does not take it well.
Turamarth and the others enjoy Ivran's wedding, until he sees the Warden who had proposed to Evvy. Later that night, he looks up and sees something he wishes he hadn't.
It is just before midnight, when Legolas is summoned before the Lady of Light, where at last, he will face the things he has been running from.
But that effort comes with a price, and no one has any clue how much they will be forced to pay.
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"Son," he said "Grab your things,
I've come to take you home."
-"Solsbury Hill," by Peter Gabriel
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Lothlórien, 13th of June 2944 T.A.
"Welcome home, Evvy! " Ohtar embraced his daughter, then his son. "Suil, Ion nîn! Did you have a good time?"
"We did" Orlin said, as he went to their couch and took a seat. He crossed his legs with a sigh, "Dale is a wondrous place; I wish you could have joined us!"
"Next time, perhaps." A thoughtful smile curved the edges of Ohtar's mouth. "There is much I would like to learn about that area. It has changed much over the last several centuries; perhaps I will do some research and write a book."
"That is a wonderful idea," Evvy's eyes widened with excitement. "I could help you, if you like."
"Nonsense," Lady Vériel gracefully entered the sitting room of their home. "How can you say such a thing about Forodwaith?" Her gaze swept over her daughter's appearance with a disappointed sigh. "Ai, Evranin," Vériel adjusted the neckline of her dress. "Could you take even a small interest in your appearance? And your hair! Who put those braids in like that?" She clucked her tongue as she reached to untie the leather fastening.
"I like it, Naneth," Evvy tried to pull away. "It is how the Elves wear their hair in the Woodland Realm!"
"Since when does my daughter try to look like a common Wood-Elves! It is bad enough their King married—"
"Vériel!" Ohtar's tone was sharp. "That is enough!"
"No, it is not!" Her voice became caustic. "I was against her going, and now look what happened; she's been influenced by those… those…"
"You are wrong, Naneth," Evranin cried. "Everyone was kind, and friendly. In Dale, there is little bigotry between the Elves, Dwarves and Men."
"She speaks the truth," Orlin seconded. "King Thranduil and Lord Bard are in favor of such ideals, as is the King Under the Mountain. I might add that the Lord and Lady are also in favor of such ideals."
"You would do well to remember that, Hervess nîn," Ohtar's features tightened with growing impatience. "These are different times, and we cannot keep to ourselves and expect the world's problems to pass us by."
"And why not? It has served us well so far," Vériel said, as she undid Evvy's braids. "Lady Galadriel banished of the evil in Dol Guldur, and I think the rumors of some mysterious, future War is just fearmongering." She ran her fingers through her daughter's blonde locks and smooth it down with satisfaction. "There… see, Iellig? Now your hair is perfect. You are such a pretty Elleth when you take some time with your appearance." Then Vériel's eyes narrowed and she lightly ran her fingers over the bridge of her nose. "Have I not told you to stay out of the sun? You have developed freckles, and it will take ages to get rid of them!"
"I like them, Naneth," Orlin said, his patience running thin. "You do as well, Evvy, do you not?"
"I…" she looked between her mother and brother.
"Of course she does not!"
Ohtar rolled his eyes. "Vériel, please…"
"Well, it is true! Those Woodland Elves, who were here last year, had such unsightly markings on their faces, and they did nothing to cover them up! Coarse, unrefined Elves have such things, and—"
"Evvy is not coarse!" Ohtar became angry. "Our daughter is beautiful, and I think—"
But Vériel waved him off, turning toward Evranin. "I am only trying to help you," she cajoled. You know I love you dearly, but not every Elleth is born with great beauty, so we have to help you make the most of what you do have… Have you seen Mahtan since you've been back? He asked after you when we were in the Dining Hall three days ago."
"I have not, Naneth," she said in a resigned tone. "I will give him my answer soon, probably after Cwën's wedding."
"Why wait?" Vériel pressed her with a patronizing smile. "To have a Warden take an interest in you is a blessing from the Valar! You cannot afford refuse this opportunity; you may not have another one."
Evranin's eyes burned, as she tried to swallow the lump that appeared in her throat. She opened her mouth, but speech failed her.
"All I have everdone was try to do what is best for my daughter," Vériel's shoulders lifted and fell with a longsuffering sigh. "How many nights have I walked the floor, worried about what will happen to you! I have spent hours trying to teach you to enhance what good features you have, yet you still insist upon plain dresses and doing so little with your hair."
"Naneth," Orlin's voice was angry. "You are behaving as if my sister has the looks of a troll, and that is simply not true! She is beautiful just the way she is."
"I would never suggest such a thing!" Vériel clasped her hand to her throat. "I am merely saying she is a Galadhrim, but—"
"I know what you were saying," he retorted, "and I will not listen to such nonsense. I am going home, but before I do, I will tell you this: I have invited Evvy to come and live with me and she said yes."
Vériel's breath caught in shock. "She cannot do that!"
"Yes, she can. The only reason I am telling you this instead of her, is to save her hours and hours of constant nagging and veiled insults." Orlin's voice shook with fury.
Vériel's spine stiffened. "I will not tolerate such behavior from my own son," she said imperiously, the voice growing louder with each word. "You will never speak to me this way again!"
Evvy cringed, panic spreading through out her body. Ohtar put his arms around her and she sagged gratefully against him. Neither could look away from the scene unfolding before them.
"It is no use, Naneth," Orlin's mouth thinned into a determined line. "You cannot make her stay. She is long past her majority, and I would like her to know what it is like to live without such constant needling."
"I will see the Lord and Lady about this!"
"I hope you do." Orlin's smile was sardonic. "I look forward to giving them an account of your poisonous attitude and the things you have said about Lord Celeborn's cousin, of whom he has great fondness." He waited for the outraged gasp he knew would come, then finished, matter-of-factly, "Evvy's trunk has been taken there and I will send for the rest of her things as soon as possible." Satisfied, he turned to his father. "Adar, I will check with you for a convenient time; preferably when Naneth will not be present."
Evranin was shaking, her hands clasped over her mouth. Ohtar's held her face and wiped her tears with his thumbs. "It will be well, Aewpîn." He murmured softly as he kissed her brow. "I want you to go."
"Oh, Ada…" Evvy whispered in a choked voice. I will miss you, but—"
"No, my dear one. I love how you have blossomed, and I will not stand for anyone to push you back into your shell."
Her father's wide, encouraging smile that not quite reach his eyes, and it only served to make her love him even more. "Thank you, Ada. I love you."
"Ohtar!" Vériel's eyes bulged with outrage.
"She will go, with my blessing, Hervess nîn." Ohtar said wearily. "It is long past time Evranin learn some independence." Before his wife had a chance to reply, he headed for the front door. "I am going back to the Library, where I can find some peace and quiet. Would you like to join me, Aewpîn?"
"Evranin cannot join you," Vériel's fists clenched at her sides. "She needs to go see Mahtan!"
"Naneth," Evvy mustered her courage. "I will see him when I am ready, and not until then. You cannot—"
"Evranin Ohtariel, you will do as I say and go see that Ellon this instant!"
There was much Evvy wanted to say, needed to say, but all that would come out of her mouth was, "Goodbye, Naneth. Ada, I will be at work in the morning. I am going with Orlin to get settled in my new home."
Vériel's reddened with fury, but soon paled with fear. She desperately tried to regain control of the situation, saying. "Fine then; leave me all alone." She pulled a kerchief from her pocket and buried her face in it. "I have never been treated so badly in all my life." With that, she turned on her heels and left the room leaving a deafening silence in her wake.
Orlin nodded to their father, then led a still-shaking Evvy out of her parent's house just in time; the tears she had been holding back burst forth.
"I didn't know it would be so h-hard," she sobbed, and grabbed her stomach. "I feel sick."
"I knew it would be every bit as bad as it was, Aewpîn nîn." Orlin held her steady as they walked. "We will go home, have a quiet evening, and then I will administer a Losta-luith to make sure you have a good night's sleep. I will say a Losta-luith. Tomorrow will be better. Now that you are out from under Naneth's thumb, you will learn love the freedom you feel."
"I still l-love her, Orlin," Evvy leaned her head against his shoulder. "I know it is wrong, but—"
He stopped to face her and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. "Of course you love her, Gwathel vuin. She is our mother and I love her, too. Loving someone does not mean giving them permission to dominate you."
"She says such terrible things about Turamarth and his people, and I am ashamed."
"Do not be. One of the reasons why Ada and I wanted you to go was to help you see that you can live outside of her expectations, Evvy. Your values are not hers, and she needs to take responsibility for her own words and actions to stop projecting her failed dreams onto you. Her life, whether she is satisfied with it or not, is her own responsibility." He tilted his head to meet her lowered eyes. "Do you understand?"
"I think so, but it is hard."
"It will get easier, I promise." He hugged her tight and kissed her hair. "Now, let's go home."
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Lothlórien, 18th of June 2944 T.A.
Ivran and Cwën's wedding was lovely. Ruvyn attended the groom, as Turamarth and the rest of his fellow Guardians stood proudly with their friend as he spoke his vows to Cwën. She was supported by her fellow Archers, and the Feast that followed was full of lively music and wonderful food and dancing.
"Well," Haldir sat down at their table. "What do you think of Galadhrim weddings, as compared to Daeron's?" he asked.
"That is not a fair question," Nualë said, as she sat next to her husband Nuín. "Daeron married a Woman, so that wedding was a combination of culture and traditions." She looked at her husband with a smile, "As to Woodland Weddings, I confess to being partial, only because my own with Nuín was wonderful."
"They are rather similar," Tur answered, but his attention was mostly on the beautiful, blonde Elleth who was dancing with one of the Wardens.
"Is that him?" he whispered to Rúmil. "The one who asked for Evranin's hand?"
"That is Mahtan, yes. His parents are good friends with Lady Vériel and Lord Ohtar." Rúmil said. "He is a skilled fighter with knives and his talent for Archery is considerable."
Turamarth's heart sank. He wished with all his heart Daeron was here. It was one thing to discuss this Warden in the safety of Rhian's kitchen with his Gwador, but Mahtan was more than an abstract notion now, and the reality of it stung.
"He looks like a fine Ellon," he murmured, with a sigh.
"He is a very fine Ellon." Rúmil said, not without compassion. "They have been close friends all their lives."
Tur took another long drink. "The last thing I want to do is to cause trouble between our people, but I like Evvy a great deal."
"I believe you, Mellon nîn. I cannot speak to what she will decide, but I see you have not spoken to her much since we arrived."
"She recently moved in with Orlin and has been busy getting caught up with her work. Rúmil? Does Mahtan know about me?"
"No. And I will not be the one to tell him." Rúmil leaned forward. "I know their mothers, and while Mahtan's parents are much easier to get along with, his mother, like many others, is a bit cowed by Lady Vériel's… strong personality."
"I see." Turamarth rubbed his jaw.
"I also think it wise to give Evranin enough space to take care of this matter herself. Under any other circumstance, I would advise standing up and fighting for the one you love, but if you try to influence her one way or another, she might take it as a sign you are like her mother and pull away."
"Under any other circumstance, Mahtan and I could become friends." Tur shook his head sadly, and said, "I should not have come, Rúmil."
"Yet you are here," the Warden smiled and refilled his glass. "Do not despair, Tur. I think you would have regretted it had you remained home."
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Later that night, Tur met up with 'Beleg' and they went for a walk under the stars on the Forest Floor. "This is truly a beautiful place," the blonde Prince said thoughtfully.
"It is," Tur agreed. "I have never seen the like. Rúmil lived with me during his exchange year, and spent many an evening talking about it, yet no words could do the Golden Wood justice. Yet, I will always love our home best. Daeron said something interesting about his time guarding these borders, and now I can see the sense in his words."
"What is that?"
"He reveled in the beauty of this place, the safe, healthy forest, the slower pace." Tur shrugged. "Who would not agree? But now that he knows what it is like, he wants this for our people, too."
"I feel the same way," Legolas said, quietly. "I do not miss the spiders, or the Orcs, or heaviness in the air, but I miss my people. I miss all of you, and I miss dreaming of what the Greenwood could be."
"I do not know why you left," Tur chose his words carefully, "though I have my suspicions. If you would like to talk about it, I promise it will not go further."
"Thank you, but I just… cannot. Not yet."
"That is fine, but please remember that I am here for you, as is Daeron." He patted the Prince's upper arm. "We miss you—"
Just then a Sentinel for the Lady came rushing up to them. After saluting them, he addressed Legolas. "Captain Beleg, the Lady wishes to see you right away in her private garden."
"Do you need me to come, too?" Turamarth offered.
"The Lady has instructed this meeting to be private," the Galadhrim Elf replied.
"It will be fine, Tur," Legolas assured him. "I wish you good night."
Once he was on his own, he walked for a while among the giant trees and drank in the beauty of the lamps that hung everywhere like silver stars. He was rounding another giant Mallorn Tree when a familiar voice from one of the high walkway forced him to look up.
Evranin was talking and laughing with Mahtan, her smile was serene as she lifted her arms and took him into a warm embrace. Then the young Warden took her hand and kissed the back of it before he walked away and disappeared into the night. Turamarth's breath fled from his lungs, as the roar of blood pounding in his ears muffled any other sound. He managed to swallow down the roar of anguish before it left his throat, as stepped around the giant roots of the tree, and ran into the forest.
He shouldn't have come here.
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"Did you have a good time, Evranin?" Mahtan asked her, as they walked along the high trees and enjoyed the moonlight.
"Very much," Evvy said quietly.
"I have not had a chance to speak with you since you returned from your trip," he observed as he offered her his arm. "You seem… brighter, I think. The travels have been good for you."
"My mother would disagree." She made a face. "Naneth has done nothing but complain since I returned, and I… Orlin asked me on our way home, if I wanted to go live with him. I moved out last week. I hated the idea of leaving Adar there, but—"
"Whatever happens there will have nothing to do with you. Let your parents work it out in their own way." Mahtan stopped and turned to study her face. "Have you given my question any thought? You do not necessarily have to stay Orlin if you become my wife."
"I have considered things a great deal while I was gone," she said. "Can we sit down?"
"Certainly."
They walked to a canopy filled with flowers and settled themselves on the bench underneath. Mahtan took her hands and eagerly looked into her eyes.
Evvy took a deep breath, exhaled and said, "You and I have been friends for as long as I can remember, have we not? It is the same with our Naneths; they have always been close. My parents have always considered you as a second son. I love your Nana, as well, I always have."
"That is true," Mahtan agreed, squeezing her fingers.
"May I ask you why you to propose to me?"
He tilted his head and one side of his mouth curved into a half-smile. "Do you need to ask?"
"I think I do. Was it because our mothers have always wanted us to marry?"
"I suppose that is a large part of it," he shrugged. "But we are perfect for each other, do you not agree?"
Evvy bit her lip, and said hesitantly, "You and I have been close friends since childhood, but does knowing each other so well mean we should get married?"
"It is the logical step to take, Evvy. You and I would get along wonderfully."
"I have no doubt we would, and you would make a wonderful husband. But let me ask you: Are you in love with me?"
"Of course, I love you!"
"But if our mothers had not pushed us together, would you honestly seek me out? Would you honestly fall in love with me, had you and I had met as strangers?"
Mahtan searched her eyes carefully and was silent for a few moments. "I… do not know…"
"When I fall in love, I want my heart to pound and my cheeks to flush, and I want to dream of being with him… I want the Ehtë Raumo," her voice was earnest. "I think you do, too." but I know you do not have that with me, do you?"
The Elf swallowed and looked down at their hands.
"I do not think you feel real passion for me, do you?"
"No," he admitted, "I do not. I know that it does not happen with all married couples, but I had hoped maybe, somewhere along the line…" he sighed. "But no."
"Mahtan, do you truly want to get married?" she pulled one of her hands from his grasp and cupped his cheek. "For too long, our ears have been filled with the expectations of others, But I want you to take a few moments to ask yourself if you truly want to marry me because you love me, or is it because you have not taken time to discover what is in your own heart?" She sat still and waited for his answer.
After a long pause, Mahtan's words were slow and heavy. "I want the same things you do; I want a great love, one that makes me ache when she is not around, and one who craves me just as much. I had hoped to find that with you, but… no." he looked into her eyes. "I am sorry."
"Do not be. We are finally being honest with ourselves, and it feels wonderful!" she smiled. "You are such a good, brave and kind Ellon, and you deserve everything love has to offer. I care about you too much to let you 'settle' for anything less, least of all me!"
"And I wish the same for you, too. What will we do with our parents?"
"We will go tomorrow and tell them together. They will make a great deal of noise," she winced, "but no one can force this upon us. The Lord and Lady would never allow it."
"That is true." He squeezed her hands. "How do you feel, Evvy?"
"I am fine," she gave him a tearful smile. "I hate the thought of hurting you, and I'm wary of my mother, of course, but…" she searched for the words, "I feel… free." She reached up and stroked his face. "How do you feel?"
"The same. There will be an empty space in my life for a while, but I will bide my time, and pray there is someone out there who is truly meant for me."
"If she does not love you the way you deserve, Mellon," she grinned, "that foolish Elleth will have to deal with me! You are one of my best friends, and I will not allow you to be trifled with."
"Should I not be saying this to you?" Mahtan couldn't help his smile. "Come, Mellon," he stood and held out his hand. "Let me escort you home."
They laughed and talked in the moonlight then climbed the steps toward her brother's home. When they stopped outside her door, Mahtan took her hand and kissed it.
"I wish you every happiness, my dear friend," his voice was shaky, but his smile was courageous.
"Oh, Mahtan," she hugged him hard and murmured. "I will always care about you."
"Ci vellon nîn n'uir, Evranin. Sleep well."
"I will. Are you going home?"
"No," he said. "I have much to think about this night, so I will walk for a while."
"Are you sure you are well?" she put her hand on his forearm. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"I am fine, Aewpîn. I feel like I am turning a new leaf, and I am starting to enjoy the idea of possibilities, if you can understand."
"Oh, Ican understand that!" she laughed and jabbed him in the ribs. "Enjoy your walk, and I will see you soon."
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Galadriel's Garden, Lothlórien; 18th of June 2944, T.A.
It was nearly midnight when Legolas was led to the entrance of the Lady of Light's private Gardens.
"Here is where I leave you," the guard saluted, then disappeared.
The Elven Prince's eyes took in his surroundings. The small clearing was surrounded by walls of tall trees and flowering bushes, ensuring complete privacy. Along the far wall, a stream of water trickled into a small pool that reflected the stars in the sky. On a table beside the pool was a sleek and elegant pitcher made of pewter as well as several linen hand towels. The plinth in the center of the garden held a flat basin, also made of pewter, and several comfortable benches sat beside raised beds of colorful flowers.
"It is time."
Lady Galadriel was breathtaking in her long, flowing dress, which sparkled in the moonlight. At her waist was a shining golden belt, and a large, moonstone pin decorated the bodice. Beside her was Lord Celeborn, dressed in the same color, with his hand protectively at her elbow, and he could see the Master Healer waiting discreetly near the steps leading to their home.
Confusion and trepidation began to fill his heart, like he had not felt in centuries. "Why am I here, My Lady?"
"It is time," Galadriel repeated gently.
"Be not afraid, Ettā Legolas." Celeborn came to him and put his hands on his shoulders in a fatherly manner. "Trust in my wife, and all will be well."
Galadriel walked over to the pool, filled the pitcher with water and carried it to the plinth. "Come forth," she commanded.
"Why are you doing this?" his eyes grew wide, trepidation stirring in his breast as Celeborn gently, but firmly led him to stand before the basin.
"We are doing this because we love you, and we love your father," he explained. "Elrond helped you for the same reason. This is not a punishment, Pînlass; no one is judging you. We merely want to help you understand some things."
"You will see many things in the Mirror of Galadriel this night, Legolas Thranduillion," The Lady said in a voice that seem to echo around the garden. "Do not turn away, for much is at stake. And no matter what you see, I must warn you not to touch the water."
Legolas nodded warily. "I will do my best."
"You have spent many years making the wrong assumptions about Thranduil, Ettā." Celeborn said, "but there is much more to father's life than you could possibly guess."
"But can you not just tell me?"
"Did Galion not try? Or Elrond? Or even Halbarad?" Galadriel's eyes searched his fëa. "Yet despite all those efforts, you still choose to nurse your fears and hang on to resentment. The pain you feel is deep, child. You cannot go on like this, or it could cause you to lose your life."
His jaw went slack, and he gaze flew to his tall, silver-haired cousin.
"Do not be afraid," Celeborn patted the young Ellon on the back, and urged him toward the Mirror. "I will be right beside you."
Galadriel slowly poured water into the shallow basin, murmuring a spell in Quenya as she slowly raised and lowered the pitcher three times.
When the water went completely still, she set the pitcher back in its place.
"Behold, son of Thranduil," she said. "It is time to meet your father."
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For days he'd silently stalked the borders, searching for a weakness but all remained steadfast. His hands worried the fabric of his robe, as he murmured spell after spell to break the seal, but to no avail.
It was hours past midnight when he felt a change in the magic around him. Was that a…waver? Or a ripple in the fabric of this blanket of protection?
He closed his eyes and quieted himself, then softly began to sing, and in his mind he could see the bright colors of the Lady's power.
His instincts were correct; there was a weakness. Instantly he jumped to his feet, grabbed his sword and staff, and cautiously approached to take a closer look…
He walked for nearly a mile, searching every inch of the curtain until he spied it; it small tear, but an opening nonetheless.
Luinrandir nearly laughed out loud with the excitement. Entering the Golden Wood was the hardest part of his mission. Once in, it was nothing for him to mill about, sight unseen among the people, as he had done so often in other lands. As soon has he had a good look around, he could come up with a plan.
Silently, he crawled through the hole in the Lady's magic, then stopped and closed his eyes to assess his surroundings.
A slow smile spread across his face.
Lady Galadriel's power was weak just now, Surely it was temporary, but, this left him open to all kinds of ways to impress his Master…
With an almost casual wave of the hand, he rendered himself invisible, and headed toward Caras Galadhon.
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ELVENTRANSLATIONS:
Aewpîn – "Tiny bird," Orlin's pet name for Evranin
Ai, trastad… – "Uh oh…" (lit. "Oh, trouble…")
Ehtë Raumo – (Q.) "Lightning Bolt" (lit. "Storm Spear") Sometimes, when an Elf first encounters his or her bond-mate, they can feel a powerful, emotional response, like lightning.
Forodwaith – Men of the North
Gwathel vuin – Beloved sister
Suil, Ion nîn! - Greetings, My son!
Tond Âr Nîn - Mírelen's pet name for her husband, when she was alive.
Ú Law! – No; it cannot be!
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