Things Fall Apart

by Elf Eye

Glorfindel and Erestor escort Elladan'n'Elrohir and Estel on a visit to Legolas (aka Anomen).

55. Matrimonial Muddling

Joee, Grumpy, and Legosgurl, thanks for your reviews!

Beta Reader: Dragonfly

Chapter 55: Matrimonial Muddling

"Ada," Legolas said patiently, "I know that you want only the best for me, but you must give over your plan of betrothing me to Arwen. I could never love her after the fashion of a husband."

"But you do love her," Thranduil said stubbornly.

"Yes, but as my sister."

"Still," argued Thranduil, "that makes you better off than I was at the time of my marriage. I didn't love my spouse at all—was terrified of her, in fact. At least you're not afraid of Arwen. Far from it: you enjoy her company."

"Yes, I do enjoy her company—but so, too, I enjoy the company of my cousin Tawarmaenas. Do you want me to marry him?"

"Wouldn't have any objections," replied Thranduil, unperturbed, "except that neither of you can bear children. Getting an heir is the point of the exercise, don't you know."

"Ada," said Legolas, growing desperate, "it takes two to marry. Just as I would never marry Arwen, Arwen would never marry me."

"Ah, we shall just have to see what Elrond has to say about that. No doubt he would recognize the virtues of an alliance between our houses."

"As a leader, yes, he would recognize the benefits that would accrue from such a union, but Elrond would never force one of his children to marry against his or her wishes and inclinations—unlike another father I could mention!"

This last phrase, uttered in an exasperated tone, brought Thranduil up short, and he studied his son carefully. Legolas' face had become flushed, and he was taking short, shallow breaths. Thranduil realized that he had pushed things too far.

"Very well, ion-nîn," Thranduil said placatingly. "I will not push you into an alliance with Arwen. But will you at least consider the matter of marriage with someone? For one thing," he added, speaking lightly, "until such time as you are espoused, all marrying is like to come to a standstill in this kingdom! None of the ellith have eyes for anyone but you. Do have pity upon your fellow males, many of whom have been pining for months, hoping for even the least of glances from an elleth. You must take yourself off the market, as it were, else soon none of the youth in the kingdom will be capable of walking erect!"

The tension broken, Legolas laughed.

"Then I had better espouse Tawarmaenas after all. That would surely discourage the ellith!"

"No!" retorted Thranduil. "That would merely put the ellith in the situation in which the young males now find themselves. The males would have eyes only for you, and it is the ellith who would be left pining for attention. Do attach yourself to an elleth, and do so quickly!"

As luck—or the author—would have it, Gilglîr arrived just then bearing a missive from Círdan. Thranduil thanked him and broke the seal.

"Oh ho!" he chortled as he read the letter, "Círdan writes to tell me that his niece has come of age, and he begs my congratulations. I remember her from a gathering at Lothlórien—delightful elleth! Graceful and elegant she was, with a beautiful singing voice."

Now, as this description encompassed most ellith, Legolas was not moved to raptures. He supposed, however, that he had better show some interest so that he might satisfy his father.

"I am sure she must be lovely," he said dutifully.

"Lovely! Lovely!?" exclaimed Thranduil. "That word hardly does her justice! Nay, she is a vision of voluptuousness! A paragon of pulchritude! The quintessence of elegance!"

Legolas stifled a giggle.

"Really? What color is her hair?"

"Oh, I don't remember that!" blustered Thranduil. "Such petty details were submerged within the penumbra of her beauty."

"Pray, tell me, Ada," said Legolas with a smile, "when it was you became such a poet."

"Ah," Thranduil replied smoothly, "one could hardly fail to wax poetical in the presence of such a peerless elleth."

"She is not in your presence at the moment, Ada."

"True, but Círdan writes to invite me to attend a celebration in honor of her coming of age."

"I am very happy for you, Ada. Have a pleasant journey and an enjoyable stay."

Thranduil looked aggrieved.

"Surely you must understand that the duties of my station prevent me from attending. However, in such a case a King may designate his heir as a worthy representative."

"Ada!"

"But aren't you the one who likes to gad about Middle-earth? Here I am offering you a chance to travel to the Grey Havens—you have never been so far west—and you look at me as if I were trying to affiance you to an Orc!"

"Very well, then, but I want Tawarmaenas to accompany me."

"You know very well that it is a fixed policy that both heirs cannot venture in company past the borders of Northern Greenwood. This much I can allow, though. Both Gilglîr and Tathar may journey with you. There, will that satisfy you?"

"I suppose it will have to," Legolas said grudgingly. He turned to leave the chamber.

"Oh, one more thing," his father called after him. "Edwen Nana will accompany you as well."

"Edwen Nana!?"

"Yes. Should it happen that, on your return, you be joined by an Elf of the female persuasion, it will be necessary for there to be a suitable chaperone. Of all the ellith, I can think of no one more fitted for such a duty than Edwen Nana."

Incapable of speech, Legolas fled to his own chamber and sent for Tawarmaenas and Tathar. They found him sitting cross-legged on his bed with an expression that would have suited a Dwarf who had just discovered that he'd been mining a vein of fool's gold.

"Goodness, Legolas," exclaimed Tawarmaenas, "you look like, well, you look like a Dwarf who has just discovered that he's been mining a vein of fool's gold!" (This being a proverb, you see.)

"My father," said Legolas gloomily, "is sending me to the Grey Havens."

Both Tawarmaenas and Tathar cried out in dismay.

"The Grey Havens!" exclaimed Tathar. "But you are so young!"

"Oh, it's not because I am departing for the Undying Lands. Círdan has a niece who has come of age, and I'm to represent my father at a celebration in her honor."

"Oh ho!" said Tathar wisely. "Let me guess: your father hopes that you will become enamored of the fair maiden."

"He could care less whether or no I become enamored, just so long as I marry her!"

"Now, Legolas," Tawarmaenas objected, "you know your father wishes you to be happy. It simply happens that he does not believe it necessary for a husband and wife to be in love at the outset in order for them to be happy in the long term. He is calculating that, a marriage having been achieved, your relationship with your wife will grow from cordiality to respect, from affection to love. So it proved in his case."

"I would rather love my wife from the very beginning of the marriage," retorted Legolas.

"Are you sure that would be wise?" said Tathar thoughtfully. "You wouldn't have anything to look forward to if you started out that way. Whereas, if you began with no more than a slight acquaintance with your spouse, you would have an eternity to romance her. Otherwise, however would you manage to pass your immortal lives without falling into a state of boredom and lassitude?"

"If I accept that line of reasoning," argued Legolas, "then I ought to wish to commence my married life in a state of positive dislike for my spouse. That would allow plenty of room for intrigue and excitement."

This debate was broken by a knock on the door. Legolas opened his mouth to say 'Enter', but Edwen Nana bustled through the door before he had succeeded in uttering the first syllable.

"My dear, dear Laiqua! Your father tells me that you are traveling to the Grey Havens to meet a prospective bride. You must allow me to help you choose the garments for the journey. You have very good taste of course—you have always been careful of your appearance—but you must admit that an elleth's eye might be useful in a situation such as this."

Legolas threw himself face down upon his bed and pounded the mattress with his fists.

"Th-valar-prtec-me-th-valar-prtec-me!" was all that the astonished onlookers could make out as he mumbled into the pillow.

Laiqua! For shame!" scolded Edwen Nana. "You are behaving like an elfling. One would hardly think you ready for marriage."

Legolas raised his head hopefully. "Oh, but I'm not!" he said eagerly. "You don't suppose you could tell my father that, do you?"

"I will do no such thing," Edwen Nana declared firmly. She turned her back on Legolas and flung open the door to his wardrobe.

"This sky blue silk tunic with the silver embroidery, it will be just the thing for your first meeting with Círdan's niece. It does very well at bringing out the color of your eyes. And be sure to wear a silver diadem with it, not a gold one. Now I must go see about having a pair of leggings made to match."

Edwen Nana swept from the room, and Legolas dropped his face back onto his pillow. All that could be heard was "Mrdr-mrdr-mrdr."

"What's that he's saying?" asked Tawarmaenas.

"Either 'murder' or 'Mordor'—possibly both, I suppose."

At length Tathar and Tawarmaenas cajoled Legolas into arising, and the Prince set about packing for the journey. He rummaged through his garments, desperately seeking any that might be worn or stained, but Edwen Nana had taken such prodigious good care of him that all his clothes were in excellent repair. Whether he would or no, he would be presentable when he was introduced to Círdan and his family. He studied himself in a mirror.

"Perhaps," he mused, "I could cut my hair. And dye the remnants some dreadful color."

"Legolas," scoffed Tathar, "you really are carrying on excessively. True, you will have to meet Círdan's niece, but you have met many an elleth. Surely meeting one more will present no great hardship. I am certain that this journey will largely be an uneventful one and that you will return as unencumbered as when you departed."

"You're right," Legolas declared, suddenly resolving to try to adopt a positive outlook on the affair. "What could possibly happen that would be so very dreadful?"

A few days later, Legolas rode out at the head of a column of Elves that included Gilglîr, Tathar, and Edwen Nana. They set an easy pace. That first evening, they camped within the western border of Mirkwood itself, and the second night they sheltered at Beorn's settlement. A week of leisurely riding brought them at last to the outskirts of Lothlórien. They had not seen so much as a wolf, let alone a warg or an Orc.

"Would that all journeys could be as easy as this one has been," observed Gilglîr.

"I don't like it," said Edwen Nana darkly. "It is not natural for things to go so well. Something's going to happen—you mark my words!"

"Nana," teased Legolas, "I have never known you to be superstitious."

Before Edwen Nana could reply, there was the sound of a branch breaking far above them. This was followed by a yell and the sound of something crashing through boughs. Suddenly all fell silent again, although the Elves, peering up toward the canopy, could see that a branch was shaking ever so slightly.

"Hullo!" Legolas shouted up into the tree. No answer.

"I'll climb up," offered Tathar. He sprang up and, seizing a branch, lightly swung himself into the tree. Within seconds, he had vanished. Soon the Elves heard him laughing, and he spoke loud enough for them to hear.

"Say, friend, isn't that an odd place to be hanging about? By the way, it's Orophin, isn't it?"

Legolas let out a whoop. Orophin was developing quite a reputation for plummeting from great heights. For awhile an adolescent Rúmil had been famous for suddenly pitching out of trees, but by now Orophin, always the most awkward of the three Lórien brothers, had exceeded his brother's exploits in this department. Legolas guessed that the Lórien Elf's clothes must have gotten snagged on a branch as he fell and that he had been dangling helplessly, too embarrassed to call for help from the Mirkwood visitors.

A few minutes later, Tathar dropped back down to the ground, followed by an Orophin who was trying very hard to look casual about the whole affair.

"Mae govannen, Legolas," he said as if nothing had happened.

"Yes," twitted Legolas, "from your point of view, we are well met indeed."

Orophin colored a little but otherwise maintained the appearance of nonchalance.

"Will you be staying long, Legolas? Rúmil and Haldir are out on patrol. They would be sorry to miss you."

"I am afraid that we will only be remaining for a week. Then we will cross over to Imladris and from thence to the Grey Havens."

"The Grey Havens!? No!"

Legolas reassured his friend.

"I am not departing these lands. I merely go to represent my father at a coming-of-age celebration in honor of Círdan's niece."

"Oh ho!" said Orophin wisely. "Let me guess: your father hopes that you will become enamored of the fair maiden."

Legolas grimaced. Was it so obvious to all that his father was bent on his marrying as quickly as possible?

"I suppose the thought did cross his mind," he said shortly.

Orophin grinned at Legolas' expression and tone of voice, his own embarrassment quite forgotten.

"Well, I had better take you to a pleasant flet so that you can be at ease. Wouldn't want you to be anything other than well-rested when you meet your Intended!"

Legolas scowled at Orophin, but he was nevertheless glad when his friend led him to a comfortable talan well-hidden in the center of a cluster of mallorn trees. Privacy was something he enjoyed little of at the Great Hall. He had scarcely had time to refresh himself, however, before Orophin reappeared to tell him that the Lady Galadriel had sent word that he was to be summoned to her flet. Legolas shrugged resignedly.

"I am Prince Legolas Thranduilion," he said to himself. "My time is not my own. Indeed," he added ruefully, "my life is scarcely my own."

Orophin cheerfully led Legolas up to the flet of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien and made a great show of announcing the arrival of the Prince. He immediately had reason to regret his having been so ostentatious, for Galadriel, casting her gaze upon him, noticed his disheveled appearance and the leaves that were caught in his hair.

"Orophin, whatever has happened to you?"

Now Orophin flushed indeed.

"I stepped on a rotted branch, my Lady. It broke, and I, I fell."

"You fell?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"It is lucky you were not seriously injured. You managed to catch hold of a branch, I assume."

Orophin flushed an even deeper shade of red.

"My fall was—arrested, my Lady."

"Ah, arrested. I see. Well, I suggest you go now and tidy up a bit before the evening meal."

Orophin bowed and carefully descended from the flet.

"Galadriel," said Celeborn as soon as Orophin was out of hearing, "we were considering whom to send on that embassy to the Dwarves. I do think we ought to send Orophin. It would be an excellent way of keeping that lad's feet on the ground. He couldn't possibly fall from a tree whilst treating with the Dwarves."

"No, he wouldn't fall from a tree," agreed Galadriel. "But," she added, "he could very well fall into one of the chasms that the Naugrim have dug. It would be mortifying to him if he had to be rescued from a pit by one of those dolvers."

"True," conceded Celeborn, "but whatever are we to do with him? It won't do to have one of the Galadhrim pitching out of trees on the unlikeliest of occasions!"

"It's only a stage, Celeborn. Give him another century or two and I'm sure he'll grow out of it. After all, I seem to remember a certain other Elf of my acquaintance who had trouble keeping his feet in trees."

"Ah," replied Celeborn gallantly, "if I had trouble keeping my feet, then it was you who were to blame."

"Indeed? I am told that on one occasion you were discovered hanging upside down, a vine wrapped around your ankle—and this several decades before you and I had even met!"

"I was practicing, my Lady," Celeborn said grandly, "so that someday I might fall gracefully at the feet of my beloved."

"Gracefully? You were described as having been thrashing about rather wildly."

"Yes, well, that was at the outset of my career. When I finally did fall for you, you must admit that I did so gracefully."

Galadriel laughed gently, and the two kissed before Celeborn bade Legolas farewell and descended from the flet. With wonder the Prince had been watching the entire exchange between the two espoused Elves. Had this been how his father and his mother had bantered one with the other? Would he ever be able to talk so easily with a maiden—with his own spouse, perchance? Galadriel caught his eye and winked. Legolas blushed and lowered his gaze.

"What are you thinking, Legolas?"

"I am thinking, I am thinking—oh, you know what I am thinking, my Lady! You always know what everyone is thinking. Why do you even bother asking?"

"Because it makes conversations rather one-sided if I don't," Galadriel replied with a smile. "But do not fret, Legolas. Celeborn and I have been together for Ages, and of course we have developed this easy manner of talking one with the other. Someday Orophin will learn how to avoid falling out of trees, and someday you and an elleth shall sit chattering as merrily as magpies."

"I may have to develop that facility rather quickly," said Legolas gloomily. "You do know why my father is sending me to the Grey Havens, don't you?"

"Yes, I had divined the reason."

"Why is he so intent on marrying me off!?"

"First of all, your father would not be 'marrying you off'. It is customary for the elleth to come and dwell with the family of her spouse, so he would be gaining a daughter and not saying farewell to a son. Secondly, he wants you to be happy, and he remembers now how happy he was with Laurëlassë. Thirdly, a king must always think of his realm, and it is customary for a king to be succeeded by his son, who will then be succeeded by his son. Your father is thinking about you and behaving toward you both with great love and great logic. It is rare when these two sentiments coincide."

"I suppose I should be grateful—I am grateful—but I am also reluctant. To marry—it is such a serious step, it is, well, it is—"

"Forever," Galadriel finished. "For the rest of your immortal life, which is a very long time."

"Yes! Oh, Lady Galadriel, won't you speak to my father on my behalf? I don't want to marry just anyone!"

"Círdan's niece is not 'just anyone'."

"I mean, I wouldn't want to marry anyone whom I didn't love."

"Legolas, name for me those whom you do love."

"Do you mean of the maidens?"

"No, I mean all those, of either gender, whom you cherish deeply."

"My father, then, and my cousin Tawarmaenas, and my friend Tathar. Gilglîr and my nursemaid, Edwen Nana. Each and every member of my foster-family: not only Elrond but also Elrohir, Elladan, Arwen, and Aragorn. Glorfindel and Erestor, too. I cherish you and Celeborn and Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin. And of course I love Mithrandir."

"Of course," said Galadriel, smiling. "Legolas, it seems to me that you have a great capacity for love. Yet you did not love all of these individuals at the outset, and some of them have on occasion given you reason to be angry or resentful toward them; nevertheless, your love for each has grown strong. Is it so unreasonable to believe that you will someday meet with an eligible elleth for whom your love will likewise grow strong? I do not think you need fear being bound to a maiden for whom you feel neither respect nor affection, and if you grant that much, love will be sure to follow, as it followed in the wake of your shared life with all these others."

"You are right," said Legolas thoughtfully. "When I first met Mithrandir, I did not love him—I feared him! I hid in a tree and spied on him. When he tempted me out of the tree with an offer of food, I ate standing up, carefully watching him all the while. It was long before he could get me to utter even one word."

"And now?"

"And now it would be as the end of the world if he were to fall!"

"Careful," warned Galadriel. "It is not unknown for an Elf to lose someone beloved of him and yet perforce to go on living. Elrond is a case in point; your father is another. Gandalf will not be always with you."

"Nay, Lady," Legolas insisted, "Mithrandir will always be with me."

"In one fashion or another, yes," Galadriel answered. "But Gandalf the Grey, no, he will not always be with you."

Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but Galadriel raised her hand and stayed him.

"Let us discuss the matter at hand—your impending marriage."

"Impending!?"

"As it is in the future, it is of course impending."

"But my Lady, it is customary to refer to something as 'impending' when it is near at hand."

"Such terms are relative, Legolas. To a Man, an event that will take place on the morrow is 'impending'; to an Elf, however, the event may still be a thousand years in the future."

Legolas looked immensely relieved.

"Oh, if that's all you mean, my Lady!"

Galadriel teased him gently.

"Look you, Legolas: you should be glad that Círdan's niece has distracted your father from his thoughts of marrying you to my granddaughter."

"Has he spoken to you of that?"

"He did not need to. As he cast his mind over all the ellith who would be suitable, it is hardly possible that he would overlook the Lady Arwen. It needed no mirror to tell me this! Nor did I need the aid of anything more than my own wit to know that neither you nor Arwen would look upon such a marriage with favor. I have seen how it is between the two of you!"

Legolas was now even more relieved.

"So you will not second my father in this matter?"

"Indeed I will not!"

To Galadriel's surprise—although she hid it well—Legolas threw his arms around the Lady of Lothlórien. This was of course unusual behavior on the part of the normally undemonstrative Legolas. (Actually, it would have been unusual behavior on the part of any Elf. They were not given to bear-hugs—or dwarf-hugs as they called them—but preferred to show their affection is a gentler fashion, through caresses and kisses.)

"Oh, Galadriel, I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am!"

"I believe," said Galadriel dryly, "that you have just done so in no uncertain terms."

Blushing, Legolas released his grip and stepped back from the smiling Lady of Lórien.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "I may have to marry eventually, but at least it is certain that I won't have to marry Arwen. Even if I am not soon espoused to Círdan's niece, my Ada will have to look somewhere other than Elrond's Hall for the next candidate!"

"Arwen is not the only elleth who dwells in that Hall," Galadriel pointed out.

"True," conceded Legolas. Suddenly he remembered Malthenrî, with whom he had been dallying during the weeks before his departure from Rivendell and who had kissed him before he had set out on his return to Mirkwood. Strange, he had given little thought to her over all these months.

"If you have not been thinking of her," said Galadriel, still smiling, "then, no, she is probably not the one."

Legolas shook his head, bemused. No matter how often Galadriel managed to read his mind, he still was surprised.

"Why are you so amazed?" said Galadriel. "You yourself can read the thoughts of trees. Moreover, surely you must know that it is the custom of the wisest and oldest amongst the Eldar to talk without speaking aloud."

"Yes, if they want their thoughts to be read. But you perceive the minds of those who do not even wish it. It is no wonder that some mortals believe you to be an enchantress!"

"And you?"

"Oh, I don't believe it; I know it!"

Suddenly Legolas had a flash of insight.

"My Lady, are you a Ring-bearer?"

Galadriel held her finger up to her lips.

"I am sorry," said Legolas contritely. "Some questions are not to be asked."

"True, and now, enchantress or no, I divine that Orophin awaits impatiently at the base of this tree, probably joined by now by Haldir and Rúmil, whom I recalled as soon as you crossed the border of our land."

Legolas bowed and eagerly descended from the flet.

"Interesting," Galadriel murmured to herself as she watched him go. "Few there are who give thought to the Rings. Indeed, most Elves are not even aware of their existence. I think Mithrandir must be right about that young Elf. Even were it not for his birthmark, it is plain that he is somehow tied up with this Thing. Well, at least that means he will not be marrying anytime soon. Much will stand in the way between Legolas and domestic bliss!"