-----
They walked the sunlit halls, passing by little smoking braziers that the elves had lit to combat the growing chill of winter; the elves they passed wore long velvet cloaks lined with fur.
Aragorn made a quiet inquiry with a dark-haired lord in Sindarin; nodding, he guided Frodo with a hand to his shoulder towards Elrond's own chambers.
"This is good--Elrond is speaking to him right now."
Frodo eyed him doubtfully. "I do not wish for Elrond to know of this. That would defeat all the measures I have taken to protect Mornenêl."
Aragorn chuckled. "You think Elrond doesn't know what occurs in his own home? I was that foolish once. Believe me, he knows. It will impress him that you come to him yourself to apologize for any indelicate actions you may be guilty of. There is a good deal more to elven courting that you are aware of. Fortunately, I think that most everyone here *likes* you, just as they adore old Bilbo. Yours is one of the most charming races."
This was all *much* more complicated than he had imagined--what had he been thinking to ever get this involved in the first place?
He gulped as a dark-haired elven maiden swept by in a sapphire gown--not Mornenêl, but for an instant there had been a resemblance . . . he could even smell a scent of her in the air, pine and lavender . . . oh yes, *that* was why he had taken the risk. To experience the entire essence that was her.
He halted, suddenly unsure if he wanted to go on. "She won't be there, will she?" he asked. He wasn't ready to see her--everything was too raw; he had finally begun to get used to the idea of not seeing her. Could he really stand to talk to her again?
"You're not returning to the room to mope, sir," Sam muttered at his side, standing up to him but hiding his face even as he did so.
Aragorn offered his hand. "I would be very surprised if she were there. Keep moving, Frodo, don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid," Frodo murmured, resuming his stride, but it was a lie. Ahead of them the grand double doors stood closed, their golden designs of twisting and spiraling vines glinting in the afternoon sun. A single elf in light armor stood guard, standing still enough to be mistaken for a statue. He smiled and bowed upon seeing Aragorn.
Aragorn greeted the elf by name in Quenya and asked if Elrond was available.
"I will check if you will allow me," the elf replied, and slipped inside. Frodo held his breath--the elf had hardly spared him a glance, but surely his presence would be mentioned--and then what would Elrond say? Perhaps he wouldn't even speak to him; if he had reacted poorly to Aragorn's love, how much worse would the love of a humble hobbit seem to him?
It was only a minute, but Frodo sweated and began to shake. Sam glanced at him, frowning, and asked in a low voice, "Mr. Strider, would Elrond take it very much amiss if I kicked Legolas in the shin?"
Aragorn didn't have time to respond, for then the elf was emerging, opening both the doors for them and beckoning them inside.
Elrond sat on a high backed chair behind a large mahogany desk, his chin resting on his fist and his eyes clouded; he sat up as they entered, frowning, his immaculate long hair swept back from a face that had seen too much, endured too much loss. Legolas stood to one side by a chair where he had apparently been sitting, tension in his proud stance, his eyes almost black and his brows drawn forward in consternation. He was dressed in black velvet today with silver trim that only heightened the contrast of his fair hair.
Aragorn led Frodo and Sam to stand beside him and bowed his head in greeting, saying nothing but hinting with his eyes that Frodo should speak first. Frodo swallowed in a dry throat and bowed low. "Elrond, sir, I have come first to apologize to you for any conduct of mine you may have found offence in. Despite Bilbo's teachings, I am yet unfamiliar with your ways, but I understand I have not acted in entirely an honorable fashion as of late. I've been most grateful of your hospitality." There, that should cover anything and yet not give away much. If Elrond was upset about his love for Mornenêl, he would have to say what he knew; Frodo would reveal nothing.
Elrond nodded, and some of the concern left his face. "Thank you. You have behaved discreetly, which I approve of. That is all I ask, concerning my house. It is with Legolas that your doings concern me; I am trying to organize a party to support you in your undertaking with the Ring, and it is unraveling as quickly as I can thread it together. The arm of Mordor has indeed grown long. You and Legolas must speak. You must know now I wish him to represent my ilk on your journey, but this cannot be with the tension between you. Speak freely; I will utter no word of this outside these walls." He leaned back in the chair, showing with his body language he would try to stay out of the conversation as much as possible.
Legolas breathed a deep sigh and locked eyes with Frodo; Frodo held himself rigid, prepared for anything. Sam had assumed almost a battle stance next to him; the heat from him was palpable, but Aragorn was relaxed and smiling, encouraging. Finally Legolas spoke. "I too must apologize. After some discussion with my cousin--" here he gave another longsuffering sigh, "--I realize I had no place to make any demands on you. I understand you've been ill, and it is most assuredly my fault. I did not know the depths of either your nor Mornenêl's hearts." He paused, struggling it seemed to find the right words.
Frodo realized it must be costing him to make such an apology; he was a proud elf, with few dealings outside his kind. He strode forward and offered a hand--he wanted this reconciliation just as badly. As for Mornenêl, his heart was numb. Nothing Legolas said or did would hurt him now; he had already faced the blow of leaving and never saying another word to her; he had already come to the conclusion Legolas wanted him too, that he must say goodbye to her, for her sake. "You had some good points in your words. The ultimatum may not have been right, but you were entirely within your rights to speak to us."
Legolas slowly raised his hand and placed it in Frodo's, and Frodo jumped a little--the smooth skin was cold and clammy. The thought of an elf with clammy hands made him smile; he couldn't help it. The elf smiled back, perhaps guessing his thoughts. He glanced up at Aragorn. "You were right. There is more to him than I had guessed." He looked back to Frodo. "I will not make any more judgments or requirements; it is not my place. I leave matters to your discretion. Just know this: you hold her heart in your hand. Be wise." He closed his eyes and waited for Frodo to respond--Frodo could see it was costing him to place his trust in him, yet he seemed more relaxed than when they had entered. Apparently he was ready and willing to abide by whatever Frodo decided.
Then it hit him. Legolas was allowing him to see Mornenêl, to do whatever he wanted. He would completely step out of the way--no wonder he had looked so uncomfortable!
Frodo squeezed his hand and Legolas opened his eyes. "I will do my best not to betray your trust. Thank you." He glanced at Elrond, watching quietly the proceedings. "And I will try not to betray *your* trust either, Lord Elrond." He turned last to Aragorn. "If you'll help me with some advice."
"I would be happy to, dear friend," Aragorn said, smiling, but with a hint of pain in his eyes. Frodo recognized that pain--it would be everpresent in him, once he left Rivendell.
"Is it settled, then? Will there be trust in the members of the Fellowship?" Elrond asked, looking now not at Frodo or Legolas, but at Sam, who remained standing close, eyes fixed on Legolas.
He seemed to feel the elf lord's gaze; flushing, he looked up at him and then realizing the question was directed at him, he hung his head and stepped behind Frodo. "I'm well as long as my master here is well," he said in a quiet but clear voice, surprising Frodo with his directness at these high elf lords. Once again he thanked Gandalf for choosing Sam as his companion.
Frodo looked at Legolas, who was smiling faintly at Sam's protectiveness. Yes, he was much more relaxed now--Frodo had said the right words, apparently. And he *did* understand his position--perhaps he had grown up an only child, but he certainly had younger cousins he cared for; the elf had only tried to protect her much as Sam probably would've in a great irony. Yes, they could work together. He could trust him.
Legolas met his eyes, and an understanding passed between them. There seemed nothing else to say, so with another bow Frodo asked leave of Elrond, and followed Aragorn out of the chamber.
It was only as he returned to his room that the implications came fully to him. He didn't really know whether he should see Mornenêl again. He wasn't sure if he could endure another parting.
An elf arrived with a note. Aragorn thanked him and handed the note to Frodo, and from the instant he saw the long twisting form of the letters, he knew whose hand had written it. With shaking hand he undid the seal and opened the letter as the elf left and closed the door.
"Who's it from?" Sam asked, too polite to lean in and look.
"Mornenêl," Frodo breathed, his heart pounding. "She wants to see me tonight." He looked up at Aragorn, wide-eyed with fear. "Should I? I don't know if I can."
Aragorn's lips were set in a thin line. "If you are not ready, then don't. You will cause more harm than good; believe me, I know. But I do think you should see her at least once more and make a proper farewell. A parting in haste should not be the last memory you hold with you on such a difficult journey. Take your time, and do only what you are comfortable doing. If she loves you, she will understand."
Frodo nodded, clutching at the note, wishing so hard that it hurt that things were different; that he was different--something that could attain such a lady. He fought it, but two tears slipped down his cheeks nonetheless. He wasn't ready, and yet he knew he *must* see her again, just as Aragorn said.
"I can deliver your response, if you wish," Aragorn said.
Frodo smiled through his tears at such a notion, a king willing to be his messenger. "Tell her . . . tell her I will see her . . ." he clutched at his breast and the nervous flutter there, "I will see her . . . tomorrow."
****
AN: See? It's slowly getting better . . . for now.
They walked the sunlit halls, passing by little smoking braziers that the elves had lit to combat the growing chill of winter; the elves they passed wore long velvet cloaks lined with fur.
Aragorn made a quiet inquiry with a dark-haired lord in Sindarin; nodding, he guided Frodo with a hand to his shoulder towards Elrond's own chambers.
"This is good--Elrond is speaking to him right now."
Frodo eyed him doubtfully. "I do not wish for Elrond to know of this. That would defeat all the measures I have taken to protect Mornenêl."
Aragorn chuckled. "You think Elrond doesn't know what occurs in his own home? I was that foolish once. Believe me, he knows. It will impress him that you come to him yourself to apologize for any indelicate actions you may be guilty of. There is a good deal more to elven courting that you are aware of. Fortunately, I think that most everyone here *likes* you, just as they adore old Bilbo. Yours is one of the most charming races."
This was all *much* more complicated than he had imagined--what had he been thinking to ever get this involved in the first place?
He gulped as a dark-haired elven maiden swept by in a sapphire gown--not Mornenêl, but for an instant there had been a resemblance . . . he could even smell a scent of her in the air, pine and lavender . . . oh yes, *that* was why he had taken the risk. To experience the entire essence that was her.
He halted, suddenly unsure if he wanted to go on. "She won't be there, will she?" he asked. He wasn't ready to see her--everything was too raw; he had finally begun to get used to the idea of not seeing her. Could he really stand to talk to her again?
"You're not returning to the room to mope, sir," Sam muttered at his side, standing up to him but hiding his face even as he did so.
Aragorn offered his hand. "I would be very surprised if she were there. Keep moving, Frodo, don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid," Frodo murmured, resuming his stride, but it was a lie. Ahead of them the grand double doors stood closed, their golden designs of twisting and spiraling vines glinting in the afternoon sun. A single elf in light armor stood guard, standing still enough to be mistaken for a statue. He smiled and bowed upon seeing Aragorn.
Aragorn greeted the elf by name in Quenya and asked if Elrond was available.
"I will check if you will allow me," the elf replied, and slipped inside. Frodo held his breath--the elf had hardly spared him a glance, but surely his presence would be mentioned--and then what would Elrond say? Perhaps he wouldn't even speak to him; if he had reacted poorly to Aragorn's love, how much worse would the love of a humble hobbit seem to him?
It was only a minute, but Frodo sweated and began to shake. Sam glanced at him, frowning, and asked in a low voice, "Mr. Strider, would Elrond take it very much amiss if I kicked Legolas in the shin?"
Aragorn didn't have time to respond, for then the elf was emerging, opening both the doors for them and beckoning them inside.
Elrond sat on a high backed chair behind a large mahogany desk, his chin resting on his fist and his eyes clouded; he sat up as they entered, frowning, his immaculate long hair swept back from a face that had seen too much, endured too much loss. Legolas stood to one side by a chair where he had apparently been sitting, tension in his proud stance, his eyes almost black and his brows drawn forward in consternation. He was dressed in black velvet today with silver trim that only heightened the contrast of his fair hair.
Aragorn led Frodo and Sam to stand beside him and bowed his head in greeting, saying nothing but hinting with his eyes that Frodo should speak first. Frodo swallowed in a dry throat and bowed low. "Elrond, sir, I have come first to apologize to you for any conduct of mine you may have found offence in. Despite Bilbo's teachings, I am yet unfamiliar with your ways, but I understand I have not acted in entirely an honorable fashion as of late. I've been most grateful of your hospitality." There, that should cover anything and yet not give away much. If Elrond was upset about his love for Mornenêl, he would have to say what he knew; Frodo would reveal nothing.
Elrond nodded, and some of the concern left his face. "Thank you. You have behaved discreetly, which I approve of. That is all I ask, concerning my house. It is with Legolas that your doings concern me; I am trying to organize a party to support you in your undertaking with the Ring, and it is unraveling as quickly as I can thread it together. The arm of Mordor has indeed grown long. You and Legolas must speak. You must know now I wish him to represent my ilk on your journey, but this cannot be with the tension between you. Speak freely; I will utter no word of this outside these walls." He leaned back in the chair, showing with his body language he would try to stay out of the conversation as much as possible.
Legolas breathed a deep sigh and locked eyes with Frodo; Frodo held himself rigid, prepared for anything. Sam had assumed almost a battle stance next to him; the heat from him was palpable, but Aragorn was relaxed and smiling, encouraging. Finally Legolas spoke. "I too must apologize. After some discussion with my cousin--" here he gave another longsuffering sigh, "--I realize I had no place to make any demands on you. I understand you've been ill, and it is most assuredly my fault. I did not know the depths of either your nor Mornenêl's hearts." He paused, struggling it seemed to find the right words.
Frodo realized it must be costing him to make such an apology; he was a proud elf, with few dealings outside his kind. He strode forward and offered a hand--he wanted this reconciliation just as badly. As for Mornenêl, his heart was numb. Nothing Legolas said or did would hurt him now; he had already faced the blow of leaving and never saying another word to her; he had already come to the conclusion Legolas wanted him too, that he must say goodbye to her, for her sake. "You had some good points in your words. The ultimatum may not have been right, but you were entirely within your rights to speak to us."
Legolas slowly raised his hand and placed it in Frodo's, and Frodo jumped a little--the smooth skin was cold and clammy. The thought of an elf with clammy hands made him smile; he couldn't help it. The elf smiled back, perhaps guessing his thoughts. He glanced up at Aragorn. "You were right. There is more to him than I had guessed." He looked back to Frodo. "I will not make any more judgments or requirements; it is not my place. I leave matters to your discretion. Just know this: you hold her heart in your hand. Be wise." He closed his eyes and waited for Frodo to respond--Frodo could see it was costing him to place his trust in him, yet he seemed more relaxed than when they had entered. Apparently he was ready and willing to abide by whatever Frodo decided.
Then it hit him. Legolas was allowing him to see Mornenêl, to do whatever he wanted. He would completely step out of the way--no wonder he had looked so uncomfortable!
Frodo squeezed his hand and Legolas opened his eyes. "I will do my best not to betray your trust. Thank you." He glanced at Elrond, watching quietly the proceedings. "And I will try not to betray *your* trust either, Lord Elrond." He turned last to Aragorn. "If you'll help me with some advice."
"I would be happy to, dear friend," Aragorn said, smiling, but with a hint of pain in his eyes. Frodo recognized that pain--it would be everpresent in him, once he left Rivendell.
"Is it settled, then? Will there be trust in the members of the Fellowship?" Elrond asked, looking now not at Frodo or Legolas, but at Sam, who remained standing close, eyes fixed on Legolas.
He seemed to feel the elf lord's gaze; flushing, he looked up at him and then realizing the question was directed at him, he hung his head and stepped behind Frodo. "I'm well as long as my master here is well," he said in a quiet but clear voice, surprising Frodo with his directness at these high elf lords. Once again he thanked Gandalf for choosing Sam as his companion.
Frodo looked at Legolas, who was smiling faintly at Sam's protectiveness. Yes, he was much more relaxed now--Frodo had said the right words, apparently. And he *did* understand his position--perhaps he had grown up an only child, but he certainly had younger cousins he cared for; the elf had only tried to protect her much as Sam probably would've in a great irony. Yes, they could work together. He could trust him.
Legolas met his eyes, and an understanding passed between them. There seemed nothing else to say, so with another bow Frodo asked leave of Elrond, and followed Aragorn out of the chamber.
It was only as he returned to his room that the implications came fully to him. He didn't really know whether he should see Mornenêl again. He wasn't sure if he could endure another parting.
An elf arrived with a note. Aragorn thanked him and handed the note to Frodo, and from the instant he saw the long twisting form of the letters, he knew whose hand had written it. With shaking hand he undid the seal and opened the letter as the elf left and closed the door.
"Who's it from?" Sam asked, too polite to lean in and look.
"Mornenêl," Frodo breathed, his heart pounding. "She wants to see me tonight." He looked up at Aragorn, wide-eyed with fear. "Should I? I don't know if I can."
Aragorn's lips were set in a thin line. "If you are not ready, then don't. You will cause more harm than good; believe me, I know. But I do think you should see her at least once more and make a proper farewell. A parting in haste should not be the last memory you hold with you on such a difficult journey. Take your time, and do only what you are comfortable doing. If she loves you, she will understand."
Frodo nodded, clutching at the note, wishing so hard that it hurt that things were different; that he was different--something that could attain such a lady. He fought it, but two tears slipped down his cheeks nonetheless. He wasn't ready, and yet he knew he *must* see her again, just as Aragorn said.
"I can deliver your response, if you wish," Aragorn said.
Frodo smiled through his tears at such a notion, a king willing to be his messenger. "Tell her . . . tell her I will see her . . ." he clutched at his breast and the nervous flutter there, "I will see her . . . tomorrow."
****
AN: See? It's slowly getting better . . . for now.