Chapter 3
In retrospect, Elrohir should have seen it coming.
He had been chewing on the end of his quill, reading a tome on Gil-Galad's military manoeuvres and scribbling down plans for future patrol exercises, when Elladan appeared at the door. That, in and of itself, was not cause enough for Elrohir to look up, even when Elladan announced that they were going for a walk with the sort of indecent cheeriness that belonged at weddings and funerals and nowhere else.
Then Estel poked his head out from behind Elladan. One flash of those big, hopeful eyes and Elrohir was already setting his book down. With Elladan shooting him a last, meaningful look, they vanished, presumably to go harass other innocent elves.
Elrohir briefly contemplated finishing his report on Mannish trading. Then there was a loud crash from the direction of Legolas' rooms and he patted his books apologetically before leaping out the window.
A foot of new snow had fallen overnight, and when he joined them by the south lawn, Estel was entertaining himself by falling into snowdrifts just so Legolas could pluck him out. Though he had never been relegated to the position of nanny in his life, the prince followed his charge without a word of complaint.
"You look terrible," Elrohir said, raising an eyebrow. In fact, he looked worse than when he had first arrived at Imladris a week ago. Legolas was of slender build, but today the hollows beneath his cheekbones seemed especially prominent. "What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing," Legolas said soothingly, setting Estel on his feet. Elrohir looked pointedly at Elladan.
Elladan waved his question away dismissively. "Erestor says that he has found Legolas holed up in the library the last two nights. He probably hasn't been sleeping."
Estel found a squirrel-cache and Legolas leaned over to study it. "You never know when you might need to ward your horse against goblins."
"How would you do that?" Elrohir asked.
"With the filet of a swamp snake - and hemlock, flowered under the light of a full moon," Legolas said, with a glint in his eye, and Elrohir decided not to ask any more questions.
"In any case," Elladan declared, to no one in particular. "Exercise is good for one's health."
They set off. Legolas was steered across the lawn by Elladan's firm grip on his elbow, but to his credit, he only smiled vaguely, as if unsure whether to be amused or terrified.
Elrohir retrieved Estel from the nearest snowdrift and trailed after them, nonplussed and very suspicious.
But half an hour later, Elrohir was forced to conclude that perhaps, this was, after all, only a walk. Legolas had allowed Elladan to tow him across the lawn with patient forbearance, but the moment they entered the surrounding woods, he had slipped off with the ease of a fish darting through water.
Now, they were sprawled out by a frozen tributary of the Bruinen, under an old oak with gnarled branches. The river was masked by a thick layer of snow, which Elrohir was using like a canvas. He traced the outlines of two opposing armies into the snow and lifted his chin at his twin. Elladan settled onto the snow opposite Elrohir, reaching out to draw a solitary unit that branched off from the main force.
"Do not wander too far, Estel. Legolas, watch him, will you?" Elrohir called. He swept a hand over the snow to reroute Elladan's attempt to sneak up on the left flank of his army. A faint rustle came from the oak overhead, and Elrohir took it to be a noise of acknowledgement.
Estel was currently in the process of constructing a town out of snow, too tired from the walk to be overly lively, so Elrohir applied himself to their game in earnest.
He was in the middle of saying something about crossbowmen when Elladan suddenly lifted his head. Elladan did not say anything, but the way his eyes narrowed told Elrohir everything. He tensed.
"Estel," Elladan said, his voice calm and steady. He did not seem to be panicking at all. "Please come back."
Estel was rooting around in the snow, searching for acorns or pinecones, treasures that were always invaluable in the eyes of children, happily oblivious to the fact that he was standing on a frozen river.
Elrohir met Elladan's gaze, and saw his own carefully concealed dread reflected in his eyes. In the stillness of the wintery landscape, they could both hear ominous grinding sounds issuing from the ice beneath Estel's feet.
Elrohir rose and drifted towards the river.
"Estel," Elladan tried again, his tone sharpening. The boy looked up with an open-hearted smile that pulled at Elrohir's heart. "Come back now. Mind where you step."
Ordinarily, Estel might have pretended not to hear him, but perhaps the quiet gravity of Elladan's voice persuaded him otherwise, and he began to make his way back towards them.
Thank Iluvatar for minor miracles, thought Elrohir.
Then the ice protested with a loud, resounding crack and Estel froze, terror draining the colour from his face.
"Don't move!" Elladan shouted, abandoning all pretence. Elrohir sprang forwards, reaching for Estel - he was only a few yards away -
He saw a blur of gold out of the corner of his eye and a smudge of grey as Elladan moved in practically the same heartbeat, and then the situation rapidly spiralled out of control.
The trajectory of Elrohir's leap brought him too close to Legolas. He brushed against Legolas' shoulder and sent the smaller elf stumbling into Elladan's path; they collided. Elrohir, originally perfectly poised to catch Estel, had to jump over the two of them, and the delay cost him.
There was a sound like distant thunder, and the ice split open beneath Estel.
The child fell heavily, his fingers scrabbling for purchase in the ice. It was unforgivingly smooth, but somehow, perhaps by virtue of his indomitable Numenorean heritage or his own incurable stubbornness, Estel managed to find a handhold.
He clung to the ice, submerged in frigid water from the waist down.
"Help," Estel mumbled, and offered them a wobbly smile.
"Don't worry, child," Elrohir called, his voice tight. He made to lunge forwards, but Legolas grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip.
"Can you hear the whispers of the river?" Legolas said, his voice hushed and urgent. He met Elrohir's burning gaze steadily, ignoring the question he saw there. "Now the ice will most certainly break under your weight. Let me."
Elrohir's lips twitched in the beginnings of a snarl, but he bit it back.
"No!" cried Elladan, his voice filling with terrible fear, but Elrohir was already moving aside.
Legolas dipped his golden head, and stepped onto the ice.
"Legolas, you can't - Elrohir, stop him!"
Elladan darted after Legolas, his composure rapidly fracturing. Elrohir seized his twin by the shoulders, increasingly alarmed by the ferocity with which he struggled.
"Calm yourself, brother," Elrohir said. "We cannot afford for the ice to splinter any further."
But Elladan did not respond. He only stared after Legolas fiercely, as if he meant to haul both him and Estel ashore through sheer will alone.
The archer moved soundlessly over the ice, his footsteps light and quick, and his eyes tightly shut. The river spoke in creaks and groans, its current throbbing in a dark, steady pulse, and Legolas strained to listen to its voice.
In truth, the things that were said about elves in mortal circles, of their collusion with the devil and use of unholy magic, were not entirely groundless. It was an intimate understanding of the music of the Ainur, rather than pure physical grace alone, that granted elves silent passage through nature.
Legolas let his mind empty until he remembered only the Bruinen, its loud, rushing cry, frigid headsprings, and the endless flow of water. Kingdoms rose and fell, centuries slid past, and still the Bruinen followed its timeless course from the Misty Mountains to the sea.
Iluvatar's song guided his footfalls. He was nothing, only a conduit, a drop of river water, a pebble on the riverbed.
A cobweb of fine fractures spread across the ice, poised to shatter at the touch of a bird's wing, but it held beneath Legolas' feet. Even now in the depths of winter, sweat dripped down Legolas' brow.
"Estel," Legolas murmured, his voice unsteady.
"Here," the child whispered.
With agonising slowness, Legolas knelt. He wrapped cold fingers around Estel's wrist and began to pull. The ice rasped and caught at Estel's clothes, unwilling to relinquish its prize, but the child made no sound of protest.
In his soaked clothes, Estel was far heavier than a child of his size had any right to be. Each tug made Legolas' head spin, but at last, Estel escaped the freezing waters and lay shivering on the ice.
"You are safe now, child. Do not attempt to stand," Legolas told him.
From inside his sleeve, Legolas retrieved a length of silvery elven rope and knotted it around Estel's waist.
"Elladan," he called. There came an answering cry from the shore. Legolas threw the end of the rope in the direction of Elladan's voice.
The twins began to pull Estel ashore, and Legolas did not attempt to follow. Despite his bold spirit, Estel was a human child, and a human child would not survive full immersion in a frozen river. Already, the ice was rasping in complaint. With an effort, Legolas fought to recapture strains of river song.
He whispered entreaties to the empty winter air, his tone calm and reassuring, but he was so tired he could not be sure whether he was speaking words at all.
With a frustrated hiss, Legolas bit his cheek hard, filling his mouth with the taste of copper. Slowly, the shadows receded. Bracing one hand against the ice, Legolas turned his mind inward, and hummed faint snatches of discordant melody.
His eyes were closed, but when Estel was finally lifted from the ice, Legolas felt it like a physical release. As the adrenaline drained away, weariness wrapped around him like a thick cloak, muffling the creaking of the ice and Elladan's distant shouting.
In a daze, Legolas rose to his feet. As he stumbled towards the shore, he felt an absurd bubble of laughter fill his lungs.
Oh, Elrond was wrong. There was no need to wait for the Morghul blade to kill him. He was doing a fine job of it himself.
Never forget to unstring a bow, Thranduil had warned on his fifteenth nameday, presenting him with his first longbow. Too much strain and the limbs will warp.
I am sorry, Father.
The moment Legolas stepped ashore, a huge crack resounded through the air with eager finality. Ice shattered, fracturing into floes that began to slip downstream.
"Are you alright?" Elladan inspected Legolas' anxiously. He spoke softly, as if afraid Legolas might break into a thousand pieces too.
Legolas nodded slowly, but he narrowed his eyes as if he were having trouble focusing on Elladan. "They've gone?"
"Yes. I don't think I've ever seen Elrohir move so fast in my life." Elladan grasped Legolas' arm firmly, but his tone was gentle. "Come on now."
"This is your fault, you know," Legolas said, dropping his head onto Elladan's shoulder. His words were slurring together. "Why did you want to go for a walk?"
"Yes, yes, it's all my fault," Elladan whispered.
Legolas laughed, and it was a terrible sound, harsh and breathy. In slow, faltering steps, they began to make their way back to the Last Homely House.
But barely a hundred yards later, Legolas' brows creased in a light frown. "Elrohir," he said slowly. "Why was Estel allowed to venture as far out onto the river as he did?"
"Elrohir and I were too engrossed in a game," Elladan said. The lie came effortlessly, suffused with the perfect balance of guilt and shame.
Legolas lifted his head, and though his face was still pale - almost translucent in the gathering dusk - the disoriented haze was already fading from his eyes.
"No," Legolas murmured. He studied Elladan's face, and though Elladan did not flinch or otherwise react, something he saw there made him sigh.
"You would not have been so careless unless you had entrusted him to me." Legolas said. His voice was mild as spring wind, but he pressed a hand against his chest with vicious force.
"You were tired - "
"I was asleep, Elladan. I heard nothing until the ice broke." The latter end of Legolas' sentence was swallowed by coughing.
"Legolas - " Elladan ran a hand down Legolas' back, trying to ease his breathing, but the coughs only deepened. Legolas pulled away from Elladan and fell to his knees in the snow, pressing one long sleeve against his lips and shuddering with muted coughs.
Elladan had a sudden vision of Legolas, alone in a passageway in the Elvenking's Halls, accompanied only by flickering candlelight, his slight frame trembling with the effort to keep anyone from hearing as his injury tore him apart.
When the coughing finally subsided, Legolas lowered his arm, and his long grey sleeve came away speckled with blood. Transfixed, Elladan stared, but Legolas only inspected it with almost clinical interest before shaking out his sleeves to hide the bloodstains.
He met Elladan's horrified gaze with a weary smile. "Do not feel too sorry for me, Elladan. I almost killed the heir of Númenor today."
"This extends beyond Estel," Elladan said, his words edged with growing heat. "You will endanger your entire realm if you continue like this. Do you truly think the Woodland Realm would collapse in your absence?"
"No," Legolas said, calmly. "Why do you think I spent the last eighty-two years training Teleglos and Rilithil to lead the archers in my stead? I have negotiated enough trade agreements with the Iron Hills and Esgaroth to last the next century. When my King departs for battle, I appoint a regency council, even though I hold the office of prince regent. The Woodland Realm will not collapse, because I have taken steps to ensure that it will not."
Elladan's face paled. It was a long time before he could speak again.
"You should have taken a ship to the Undying Lands."
"But you know why I do not." Legolas gazed at him expectantly.
"I will hear you say it."
"I am a friend, a comrade-in-arms, a son," Legolas said quietly. The faint, gentle smile that so often lingered on his face dimmed, and was replaced by something hard and true as tempered steel.
"But so long as I am the crown prince of Eryn Galen, I die only in the service of my realm."
When they stepped into the courtyard of Imladris, Elladan swept towards Estel's rooms without another word. Legolas watched him go, a queer expression on his face. Then he turned to one of the guards who stood watch over the Hall of Fire.
"How is the child?"
The guard bowed low. "The little one was frozen to the bones when he returned with Lord Elrohir. But Lord Elrond himself has tended to him, and he appears to be on the mend."
Legolas' eyes softened. "That is well."
Messaging his temples with his fingertips, Legolas turned towards his own rooms. A century ago, he would have scorned the stairs in favour of the vines that crept up the sides of Imladris' ancient walls. Today, he passed underneath the sweeping arches of her corridors, drifting through the fluttering gossamer drapes like an errant gust of wind.
An eagle was waiting for him on the balcony. He stiffened the moment he saw its sharp silhouette, and took a deep breath, hoping that he was imagining the reproach in its imperious golden eyes. But when Legolas unfurled the messenger scroll, the words he saw, written in the careful cipher the archers used, were painfully bright even in the soft moonlight.
Contra flanking failed. Rilithil dead. The King asks for your immediate return.
"Oh."
The eagle cawed impatiently.
"Wait," he said, a little breathlessly. Turning to his study, Legolas lit a match and touched the little scrap of parchment to the flame, watching as it twisted itself to cinders. He then picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and set it down to write his response, but his hands, normally so deft and steady, shook violently. A minute later he still had not managed a single stroke. Slowly, a drop of ink gathered at the tip of the nib; it dripped down to the paper with agonizing slowness, as if it were not ink, but blood.
Rilithil - his second-in-command. For centuries she had served at his side, sharp-witted and barb-tongued. She had eyes like the brilliant moon for which she been named, eyes that always saw everything too clearly. In the days following his death, Rilithil would have made a fine commander. Eighty-two years of effort, gone in a single poorly planned attack. He had been in the library for two days and two nights, flipping through dusty tomes until Finrod and Fingolfin and Fingon began to blur in his mind, and still it had not been enough.
The Morghul blade awoke with terrible glee, and he staggered against his bureau, fighting to draw breath.
The door creaked open. Legolas grimaced and forced himself upright, clenching his fist into a tight ball of frustration. His fingernails left bloody little crescents on his palm.
"Legolas."
A self-mocking smile spread across Legolas' face, and he turned slowly, tempering the tempest in his eyes until all that was left was the still surface of a wintry sea.
"I am sorry, Elrohir," he said softly.
The son of Elrond stood in the doorway. His face blurred in and out of focus, but Legolas could sense with perfect clarity the fury that emanated from him in waves.
"Sorry?" Elrohir hissed. "Estel almost died, Legolas. I ran faster than the wind and still he was barely breathing by the time Father saw to him."
"I am sorry." Legolas repeated. He quietly reached out behind him for the bureau in an attempt to prop himself up.
"Tell me what happened. Five years ago, I called to you from across a battlefield in the depths of Dol Guldur, I told you to help Elladan. The sounds of the dead and dying filled the air, but still you heard me, and you put an arrow through the orc before it had time to decapitate Elladan. So what happened today?"
"I was careless," Legolas murmured.
"Or perhaps you just did not care enough about a human child. You did not even deign to visit his bedside upon your return - so perhaps your lord father's prejudices have coloured your own judgement!"
As if from a distance, Legolas noted vaguely that he had not seen Elrohir so angry in centuries, not since the day they found CelebrÃan, battered and broken, at the foot of the Misty Mountains. Elrohir had slaughtered every orc within fifty miles that year, his grey eyes lit with a light that was at once grief-stricken and fey.
"You misunderstand me, Elrohir. It is true I failed to keep him safe, but my mistake pains me no less than it does you."
"Even so, you are keeping something from me," Elrohir said, coldly. "I do not believe that the crown prince of the Woodland Realm to be incapable enough to lose sight of a child. And until you tell me what is wrong with you, you will serve no patrols, and you will not set foot near Estel."
He turned to leave.
Legolas was beyond hearing; Elrohir's last sentences had faded into white noise. Deep inside, the knot of loyalty and kinship and unwavering determination that had sustained him for eighty-two years was fraying. The fluid, linear logic of his once-quick mind was gone, filled only by erratic bursts of jarring pain. He could taste copper on the back of his throat, and through it all he clung only to one thought: I must not let Elrohir be haunted by guilt.
The moment the door swung shut behind Elrohir, Legolas collapsed.