See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.
Please forgive the delay. Once again, I blame it on Saruman. Everytime I tried to write him, I was unable to write a coherent sentence. The evil thing even sabotaged me. I have just suffered the worst case of Writer's Block in all my life. I was not only unable to write LOTR, but also POTC, and several other fandoms and my own original work! Evil White Wizard! I'm thinking of ways to take out my frustrations on the Turncoat Wizard even as you read this!
Fortunately, when the dam finally burst, I did come up with two chapters, and as a reward for your patience, I'm posting both today. That's right! Two chapters! I'm going to get right to work on the next as well.
Fair Warning: I believe the story is winding down. (Of course, the last time I thought that was back in chapter 15 or something!)
Thanks to everyone who reviewed.
Encroaching Darkness part 27
By Ecri
Aglarelen watched his brother sleep. Legolas, eyes closed in human sleep, clutched his father's hand though Aglarelen was sure his brother wasn't aware of it. Thranduil was aware of little else. Aglarelen could tell by the way he held onto that hand, by the way he looked desperately at that face. The Crown Prince of Mirkwood had had the privilege of seeing his father fussing over each of his children. He, above all Thranduil's children, had seen more of the caring, concerned, fatherly side of the King of Mirkwood. It was not that Thranduil hid such things from his other children. It was only that Aglarelen, as the Crown Prince, was more often at the King's side assuming the duties only the heir to the throne would assume. He and Thranduil had grown close through the centuries, and Agalarelen, once he had finally come of age, had become more than Prince and Heir. He had assumed the role of confidante, advisor, and sympathetic ear–the role that had once belonged to the Queen of Mirkwood.
Of the King's children, Aglarelen couldn't say who'd been fussed over most, only that each child had stirred a different sort of attention from his father's heart.
Whenever his sister, Lindëriel, had been hurt, whether a physical injury or haunted by some worry or fear, Thranduil would offer his strength as only a father can to a daughter. He would hold her, cradle her sometimes, though Naneth would sometimes tease Lindëriel by telling her she was too old to be held by her Adar in such a way. He would be her strength, listening to her mumbled, hurried words as she unburdened herself or soothing her physical pain by distracting her with songs or books, or long conversations about anything and nothing.
Lindëriel had once confessed to Aglarelen that her father's arms were a haven to her. When he hugged her, she said, love and strength and peace flood her soul.
When he himself was in need of his father's comfort, Aglarelen had noted that Thranduil would speak to him of some mysterious third party who had a problem that greatly resembled the one troubling him. Both would be aware, of course, of the woeful ruse, and before long both would be smiling at the awkward pretense as each struggled not to be the one who broke the transparent charade.
Then there was his brother Oropherin. The second son of the King was known to be prickly when troubled or injured. Unwilling to be coddled, he preferred to be left alone, but Thranduil, especially after the death of his wife and daughter would not be shut out of his children's hurts. When Oropherin would become moody or, as rarely happened, be injured in some attack or other, Thranduil would find a way to be near him. His pretense with Oropherin was to be in need of his second son's advice on some matter of state or some domestic matter for which Aglarelen could offer no suggestions. Father and son would discuss the unrelated matter in great detail, and more often than not, the true communication was nonverbal. Oropherin had once remarked to Aglarelen that he and his father were more likely to have their most revealing conversations by speaking with eyes rather than tongues.
With his third son Thranduil had adopted a much different approach. Thranduil and Tarmathalion were close in many ways, and the two shared a grim outlook especially where the coming Shadow was concerned. Aglarelen had noted that they often spoke in hushed terms as though they could only trust such concerns to themselves. Tarmathlion's hurts would require acknowledgement from his father, but more in the sense that Tarmathalion would need to work through in his mind what exactly had happened in order to move past it. In such cases, Thranduil would do the listening while his third son would piece together the events in battle that had led to his injury, or the crisis that had led to his emotional difficulty. Thranduil would offer his own insights when requested, or sometimes, even when not requested, and the two would emerge from the trial even closer.
With Legolas, however, the connection seemed different. Aglarelen had noted in the long years since his youngest brother's birth that much concerning the last Prince of Mirkwood was different. Perhaps because his mother and sister had doted on him before they had passed to Mandos' Hall, or perhaps because the family thought it necessary to protect him more completely from any future hurt, Legolas had nearly suffered a surfeit of affection.
Legolas had seemed fragile after his mother and sister had departed Middle-earth. His tears had seemed not to stop for many years, and his cries for his mother or his pleas to hear his sister sing had become commonplace, though never had they lost their knife's edge
The best way to calm him when he was troubled was to be near him. He somehow sensed, even when lost in Elven sleep, the presence of those he loved. He reacted to such presence quickly, and even on occasions when he was grievously injured, his recovery was remarkably quick even by Elven standards if his family were close. If, however, he was troubled, if some secret worry ate away at his resolve, his peace of mind, he would often go still and silent, brooding. He'd confessed once to Aglarelen that he sought to make sense of the nonsensical, and when he could not, his heart grew heavy, his mind more troubled and he would begin at the beginning once again puzzling through the problem over and over until
Agalaren had asked him about that. Until when? What secret signal did his young brother hope to find that would settle the issue or until he could accept that he had no answers to what riddles in which he became mired? Legolas had turned away from him then, and that in itself gave Aglarelen his answer. Legolas sought the solution until it presented itself. If it did not do so immediately, well, he was immortal. He would wait for the answer.
Aglarelen had been surprised to learn not too long ago that Legolas was still searching for some logic, some meaning to the deaths of his mother and sister. The two had been sitting high in the tallest tree outside of Thranduil's Palace. Legolas had been staring up at the sky watching the progress of the stars as they made their nightly journey. Aglarelen respected his brother's silence, but before long, the wistful, sorrowful look on Legolas' face made Agalrelen ask.
"Brother, what troubles you?" Aglarelen thought for a moment Legolas might not answer, but then, he spoke.
His voice was soft, below a whisper. It was a volume elves alone would hear, and Legolas had either adopted it to keep from being overheard, or, as was more likely, he was so lost in thought and in the stillness of his surroundings, that a louder tone would have seemed intrusive. "I look for them, Aglarelen. Do you ever do that?" Legolas' eyes remained riveted to the stars above, and Aglarelen could not fathom whom he might be seeking.
"Who, Legolas? Who do you look for?"
Legolas cocked his head to one side, and he almost smiled, though it was so slight a thing no one but Aglarelen would have noticed it. "I suppose it is not so much looking, as listening" he shook his head once, and corrected himself again. "No, not listeningfeeling."
Aglarelen was exasperated, but tried not to show it. "Who, Legolas?" He asked the question again, only hoping to get a more revealing answer.
Legolas turned then to look Aglarelen in the eye. In the same soft voice as before he told his brother whom he sought. "Naneth and Lindëriel."
Aglarelen hadn't understood what Legolas meant, but soon Legolas had explained that he often sought them–or rather some connection to them–at night in the embrace of the highest of trees, feeling their presence and asking why they had departed. He had received no answers as of yet.
The Crown Prince remembered asking Legolas why he tortured himself so and Legolas had gazed at him with an expression so puzzled it was almost comical. "I do not think it torture, yet I could not tell you why I do it. I think" Here he had paused and again cocked his head to one side, his eyes almost seeming to move by instinct to find the light of Eärendil. "I think I need to know that all is well. That they have fulfilled their part in Eru's song, and wait only to join once again when Eru permits."
Aglarelen had stared at his brother as the stars made their way across the sky above Mirkwood. If Legolas was aware of his brother at all after that brief exchange he made no mention of it. The two sat until dawn at which time, by mutual if silent consent, dropped from the tree's limbs and returned to their rooms.
He thought of it from time to time, but Aglarelen had never made mention of it to his father. He did not understand it himself. Why should he burden Thranduil with it?
He brought himself out of his reverie and, sitting by his father, he rested one hand on his shoulder. Thranduil looked at him, and they shared an unspoken moment of love and hope.
Legolas will be well, Aglarelen thought. He must be. Whatever troubles him, we will cast it out into the light where it will shrivel and die beneath the weight of reason. He watched Legolas sleep the sleep of mortal men. "We will cure him."
He did not realize he spoke aloud until his father looked at him. He spoke again with assurance. "We will not lose our Greenleaf, yet, Ada."
Thranduil smiled, and still clutching Legolas' hand in his own, drifted off to sleep. Aglarelen watched over his brother and father through the night.
**
Gandalf watched Saruman from across the camp as the White Wizard appeared to be sleeping. The intention when Elrond had first stopped them here had been to rest for a short while, but it had now become clear that they would not move on until dawn. Saruman had seemed agitated, impatient with their slow pace, even with Gandalf's gentle reminder that their party was not entirely whole and hale.
Gandalf had spoken briefly with Haldir and Tauron of their troubling observations of the White Wizard, and he had offered assurances that he would discover what Saruman was hiding. He had seen the two distrusted Saruman, and he'd said all he could to assuage such feelings. Still, he himself had begun to harbor similar feelings. He knew Saruman did not exactly respect his opinions or his insights. Saruman was his superior. Saruman was head of their order, and as such, he undoubtedly held information he alone understood. If, as Haldir and Tauron insisted, Saruman had been speaking the Black Speech to an orc, surely, there was some reasonand yet
And yet
Gandalf had begun to suspect Saruman knew more about Legolas and Aragorn than he would tell. He did not think the White Wizard could cure Legolas. He did not believe the White Wizard had had any contact recently with the Ithryn Luin, for those two had disappeared long ago. Indeed, that they had resurfaced at all shocked Gandalf. What he did know was that he would need to watch Saruman carefully. He understood his superior very well in one way. He enjoyed his position as head of the order, and he did not readily share information. As such, if Gandalf wanted to learn anything that Saruman attempted to keep secret it would be through observation alone.
He puffed on his pipe as he watched. Yes, he was certain there was much going on that he had yet to learn.
**
Elrond watched his sons sleep, content that the three were, at least for the moment, as well as he could make them. Elrohir's odd affliction coupled with Estel's injuries had heightened his own distress during this journey and distracted him from the original purpose.
His eyes moved across the camp to rest on Legolas. The young prince seemed to be resting comfortably in the arms of his family, and Elrond felt relief flood through him. His conversation with Estel before his youngest son had drifted off to sleep replayed in his mind.
Estel's every thought seemed to be for Legolas. It did not surprise Elrond. He knew how close his son and Thranduil's were, and he had recognized the anguished determination emanating from Estel.
He thought over their route to the Golden Wood. It would be better for them all if they could reach that safe haven sooner. By his best calculations, they might be able to reach Lothlorien in 12 days at their current pace. If they had to stop more frequently, or if some new trouble or enemy beset the entourage, that estimate would increase.
Perhaps if he were able to slip a sleeping draught to Legolas and Aragorn, they would be able to increase their pace, allow the two a bit of uninterrupted slumber, and reach Lothlorien ahead of the estimate. It wasn't ideal, certainly, but it might be a good answer.
He glanced again at his slumbering son, noting the creased brow. Worries seemed to grow in human sleep, and he was certain his son was worried. Aragorn was seeking a way to help his friend, even though they all admitted there was little that could be done. Galadriel and Celeborn had been their best chance, their best hope that Legolas could be restored.
The Lord of Imladris understood why Galadriel and Celeborn would prefer to handle such a thing from within Lothlorien. The very air of such a realm could lend some aid to reversing the condition, but Elrond also understood that being within the protected realm of Rivendell had done nothing, as far as he could tell, to aid him in Legolas' recovery.
As he watched his son sleeping, Elrond could only hope that somewhere in his dreams, Aragorn would find the answers that had eluded them all.
**
Galadriel listened as those around her surrendered to sleep. She required very little herself, even for an elf, and had grown to love the quiet, peaceful moments of predawn. Celeborn was awake as well, and watching her. She felt his eyes on her even though she was facing away from him. It was an anchoring sensation, one she was surprised that she welcomed, even craved. In the long distant days of her youth, she would not have believed she could willingly bind her heart, her life, her soul to that of another. That had been before she'd met him. Loving him had been as easy, as inevitable as breathing, and it was nothing short of a comfort to have someone know her so well.
Now, though they hadn't spoken for hours, she knew she could speak about anything and the conversation would flow as though they'd been speaking on that topic for hours. Instead, she turned to face him. His eyebrows raised infinitesimally as she drew nearer and spoke to him in a whisper none other, even one of their own race, would hear.
"The Young Prince may be beyond our aid." The admission troubled her, but she was saying nothing he did not already know. He did not respond, so she continued. "If there is a way to move more swiftly, I would have us take that road."
"That road or the one we are on will scarcely differ. Is there some urgency to his condition that I do not perceive?" Celeborn walked to her side and took her hand, and, in the physical connection, she felt his strength and knew it for her own.
"Nay, not one that you do not perceive. The spell cast was, I deem, an afterthought." She watched for his reaction, but, as she had said, he already knew.
"Some other goal"
She cut him off, which was rare enough that he gasped softly in surprise. "The Enemy has spies everywhere. He searches for those who may be his undoing."
"Legolas cannot"
She smiled a sad smile even as he at last understood and left the thought unspoken. Legolas was not a threat to the Enemy. At first glance this was so. Indirectly, he was, though the Necromancer could not yet know it. Perhaps as a son of the Elvenking, he could be considered a slight threat, but the larger, and, she hoped, lesser known threat he posed was as friend to He Who Would Wield the Blade that Was Broken.
She had watched this friendship form since long before either of the pair had been born. She had seen it, had told Celeborn of it, and had breathed a sigh of relief as she had watched it unfold. Seeing it had not been one of those strands of time that would taunt her with promise never to appear, she had become more than a little enthralled with it. She had received information from Elrond about Estel only on rare occasions as he sought to keep the man's identity a secret and speak of him very little.
Galadriel's main concern at this point was getting them all safely to Lothlorien. She was certain they would be better able to help Legolas within the protected realm. What troubled her about this was the unease she'd felt since Saruman had joined them. She knew Elrond prided himself on never turning anyone away from his realm especially those in need of aid or refuge. She had never claimed such a thing about her own realm, and indeed held a secret amusement, if not outright delight, over the fact that many mortal beings looked upon Lothlorien with trepidation if not outright fear.
She did not wish to allow the White Wizard freedom to wander through the Golden Wood. It was not a rational decision. She had seen nothing with either normal elvensight or with foresight. She could not say what about him troubled her, but she hoped her mirror might tell her more. This gave her another reason to want to reach her home as quickly as possible.
She realized her husband was still looking at her waiting for her to speakto explainto say in words what he had already guessed. She reached for his hand. "We must protect them, my love. We must find a way to keep them safe."
Celeborn nodded and squeezed her hand gently. She smiled and brought her free hand up to touch his face, a gentle, feather light caress starting from his temple and following the curve of his cheek. The slightest of smiles touched her lips, and her eyes twinkled. "I do not wish Saru" She was more shocked than words could say when he interrupted her much as she had done in speaking to him earlier.
"I shall speak to the White Wizard."
His eyes spoke of things he did not put into words, and she lost herself for a moment in the love, admiration, protection and devotion of her husband. Together they would find a way to overcome the Shadow.
**
Celeborn knew at once that Galadriel's thoughts were occupied with thoughts of how to help the young prince, but he had also guessed that another part of her wished Saruman to leave them. She had long harbored feelings of unease around the White Wizard. She could not, or would not, explain them.
Such reticence to discuss what she saw, what she knew, did not trouble him. He had long held his peace when confronted with such secrecy, and, in truth, he knew she would share anything with him that needed to be shared. His trust in her was unfaltering.
Her worries over Saruman had long been growing. He himself did not particularly like the White Wizard, but for Galadriel, it seemed much deeper. He knew she must see or sense something along a different plane than he did.
"The Young Prince may be beyond our aid."
Celeborn knew this was a difficult admission for his wife, for her interest in him extended back before he was born thanks to her foresight. He also sensed that she was aware how fond he was of the young prince. Celeborn knew his wife well. She would have no wish to hurt him by such words. He waited patiently for her to continue.
"If there is a way to move more swiftly, I would have us take that road."
Her words surprised him. She was not one to dwell upon things that could not be changed, and, in truth, the list of things she could not changed generally frustrated her to no end.
"That road or the one we are on will scarcely differ. Is there some urgency to his condition that I do not perceive?" Celeborn reached for and took her hand offering her his own support and strength.
"Nay, not one that you do not perceive. The spell cast was, I deem, an afterthought." She watched for his reaction, but, as she had said, he already knew.
"Some other goal"
When she cut him off, he could not withhold a small gasp of surprise. She had rarely done so in all their long lives. They valued one another's opinions and he could not think what urgency would change that.
"The Enemy has spies everywhere. He searches for those who may be his undoing."
"Legolas cannot" He had begun to speak without first considering her words. Their meaning silenced him as swiftly as her early interruption. Legolas alone was not a threat, but perhaps the threat was hidden in a unique friendship between two Princes of Middle-earth. Separately, they were formidable foes, but together, their loyalty, bravery, and willingness to sacrifice for the greater good could indeed make the pair more of a threat to the spread of the Shadow.
He continued to gaze at her steadily waiting for her confirm his guess. When Galdariel took his hand, he knew the truth on her mind before her lips spoke it. "We must protect them, my love. We must find a way to keep them safe."
Celeborn nodded and squeezed her hand gently relishing the way she touched his face in response.
"I do not wish Saru"
"I shall speak to the White Wizard." He did not know what possessed him to interrupt her, but he had a strong desire not to hear her lovely voice say that name. It seemed odd, unfathomable, yet it was a truth he dared not deny. He vowed to speak to the Wizard at first light. He would suggest the Wizard depart, perhaps to search among his writings and scrolls, a collection of the past knowledge of Middle-earth rumored to rival that of Elrond's library. Whatever the Wizard's reaction to the request, he would make certain Saruman knew he would not be welcome within the Golden Wood.
To Be Continued
Deana: Thanks! I hope this works for you. I'm sorry you had to wait so long.
MarySuesREvil: Thanks so much for catching those spelling errors. I am going to fix them. I appreciate the attention. Don't worry about Saruman. I've got plans for him. You're right of course. Tolkien never says one way or the other about what the twins do. Since whether they sail to Valinor or not has no bearing on the outcome of this story, I suppose it doesn't make much difference, but perhaps I will reconsider and write another stand alone that addresses that very thing. We'll see.
Silvertoekee: There's still suspicion about Saruman, and there will be more I'm sure. I just don't know how much more! Legolas' condition will be addressed really soon. I promise.
Catherinexxix: Thanks. I appreciate that. I'm glad you're finding so much to like, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. There's plenty with all of your favorite characters to come.
Mystical panther: Sorry about the long wait. I hope the extra chapter makes up for that a little.
Tychen: Saruman got me cornered again, didn't he? I'm going to push him aside for awhile. He's not out, but he's going to be silent for awhile. Stupid wizard.
Sirithiliel: Sorry for the wait. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.
Joee1: I'm not going to hurt Haldir againor at least I'm not currently planning to do that. I don't know what the muse is planning, but since she's been either in cahoots with Saruman or easily abducted, I'm not sure I should listen to her anymore.
Gwyn: You're right of course. Haldir suspected Saruman from way back, or was at least inexplicably distrustful of him. There will be more of this later. As for Galadriel, even she says, often, that the mirror doesn't always show you what you want to see, nor what you expect to see. Even when it does, it's probably a matter of degrees and of how you interpret the visions. Not very reliable as a source of information.
Leggylover03: I'm not sure how many chapters. I'm thinking thirty to forty, but then I don't know what the muse knows, and since Saruman has her all uncommunicative, I can't begin to guess. As for fixing the elf, Aragorn is working on it.
Alariel: I love that scene in the film when Aragorn hugs Haldir and Haldir hugs bag–although more surprised than enthusiastic. I agree about Saruman's arrogance. He's convinced of his own superiority.
White Wolf1: I'm still not sure how far to push this suspicion of Saruman. I don't want anyone certain of anythingbut then againwell I guess I'll just have to see how it turns out. Just like all of you! More Aragorn, Thranduil, Aglarelen and Legolas to come.
Chloe Amethyst: Yes, Saruman is shortsighted and rather arrogant, but that's the point of his corruption, I suppose. Pride goeth before a fall and all that. There will be more with Gandalf and Haldir and Tauron. I'd love to have meetings or live in trees. I was so beside myself a few weeks ago because the trees seemed to be taking so very long this year to bloom. They finally have and I'm so happy! I'm planning more with Legolas' family. I'm glad some of their angst is coming across.
Grumpy: I do indeed wonder what Elrond puts in his tea! More with Haldir to come.
Strider's Girl: I promise more Aragorn soon. (Read next chapter!)
Templa Otmena: I'm thrilled that you like the flashbacks. I was trying to use them explore Legolas' family and their interaction. Thranduil and Aglarelen want what's best for Legolas, but this standing aside is getting to them. I'll be using more of that later. You really know how to make my day, don't you? When I read what you wrote about Thranduil's "love and respect for Legolas was also brilliantly conveyed" I was giddy! I'm overjoyed that you like Aglarelen. I was hesitant to do too much with an original character, but I wanted some history for Legolas. Yes, I'm trying to keep the stories linked, sort of like the family history that Tolkien never provided–though I'm certain if he had provided one, his version of Legolas' family and childhood would have been vastly different. I wasn't sure when I wrote it about including the part about Legolas' dreams in Imladris from Aglarelen's POV, but in the end, there was too much there I wanted to convey. Yes, the line about Estel's screams usually being the ones shattering the peace–I meant that to convey the surprise of elves that the young human is actually in a position to offer what he has only received to this pointlike a human parent being surprised when their child is suddenly grown. It does mean a lot to me that you–and so many other readers–like the way I've written Galadriel and Celeborn's relationship. It's not easy to write them and keep them as ethereal and awe-inspiring as they are meant to be, and yet reveal their emotions, their thoughts, and their fears and desires. As for my ideas of how old Legolas isin my little corner of Tolkien's world, I can't believe he's 2931 years old at the time of the War of the Ring. In my mind, and as I write him, he's the youngest elf to be born in Middle-earth. I'm careful to say it that way, too, because, while I know Tolkien said that elves eventually lose interest in procreation, I won't say there aren't any baby elves running around in Valinor. I believe Legolas is youngish for an elf. Pronbably he's 500 to 1000 years old by the time of the War of the ring. I know this won't ring true for some fans, but since it hasn't been divulged by Tolkien–even in his posthumous writings–we can debate it all we like without truly flouting canon! Thanks once again for your wonderful review. I quite enjoy reading your insights and your opinions. Sorry for the long delay. Keep reading!
ryuujin dragon king: Thanks! I'm glad you like it. More Haldir soon.
Beling: Thanks so much! How flattering. I'm thrilled you like the story. Please keep reading and reviewing.
Grumpy: Thanks for the follow up. I think you helped me defeat Saruman's evil hold on my muse! Thanks for reading.