Thank you to the following for your reviews of Chapter 75: Farflung, Inuyushaloverfan, Mearas, and Musical Charlatan. I gather from your reviews that the last chapter went straight to your tear ducts. You may also want to keep handkerchiefs handy for the ending of this current chapter.
Karri: Thank you for taking a second look at "Fellowship." I really appreciate it.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly.
Chapter 76: The Flute Player
Gilglîr had only to look at Glorfindel to know that the news was very bad. The balrog-slayer's torn garments were black with Orc blood, and Glorfindel's own blood had soaked through the bandage wrapped about one of his hands. Clearly he had cut his way through many foes, and he would only have done so if his errand were urgent.
"Legolas has taken a turn for the worse," Gilglîr said without hesitation.
"Yes, and Elrond believes Thranduil should come at once."
"I will convey that message to him. You will want to wash and rest yourself."
"Yes, but when he sets out, I wish to return with him. I want to be with Legolas if, if—I want to be with Legolas," Glorfindel finished, words failing him.
"Of course, my friend," Gilglîr said gently. He himself wished that he could return to Rivendell, but he knew he would have to remain behind with Tawarmaenas. If neither Thranduil nor Legolas returned, then Gilglîr would have to guide Tawarmaenas through the first decades of his reign before the Seneschal could follow after the departed King and Prince.
Thranduil was not altogether unprepared for the news. When Gilglîr had returned from Rivendell and informed him that Legolas had been injured, the King had questioned him closely.
"A wound to the belly and yet Legolas recovered within days and with no sign of infection?"
"Yes, the Valar be praised."
"We shall see," said Thranduil doubtfully. "Does it not strike you that it is too much to be hoped that an Elf should be run through with an Orc blade and seemingly take so little hurt from it?"
"I must say I was surprised," conceded Gilglîr, "but Legolas was afforded excellent care, first at the hands of Edwen Nana, and then at the hands of Elrond, who is famed throughout Arda as a healer."
"I do not doubt that they treated him with the utmost of skill, yet, Gilglîr, I am troubled. I will not truly be at ease until Legolas is back within the walls of the Great Hall."
"That is to be expected, Thranduil. You are his father and of course are desirous to see with your own eyes that your son is safe."
Thranduil felt that there was more to his fear than that, but he said no more at the time. Now, as Gilglîr knocked upon the door to Thranduil's private chamber, the Seneschal recalled that conversation.
'It is testimony to the depth of his feeling for his son', Gilglîr thought to himself, 'that he sensed that all was not well'.
"Enter," called Thranduil, and Gilglîr opened the door and stepped into the chamber.
"I must leave for Imladris at once," said Thranduil before Gilglîr had uttered a word. "Is that not so?"
Gilglîr nodded. "Yes," he said gravely. "Glorfindel himself has arrived carrying Elrond's summons."
"Gilglîr, I must ask you to remain here, by the side of my nephew."
"I know," said Gilglîr. "I understand. But I beg of you, convey to Legolas either my greetings or my farewell, as the case may be."
"Of course, Gilglîr. He is as much your son as mine, for I well know that during the years that I neglected him you often served as the father I should have been. You have at least as much of a claim on him as I do—as does Elrond, and Glorfindel and Mithrandir, too."
Gilglîr inclined his head slightly. "Thank you," he said softly.
"No, it is I who must thank you, mellon-nîn," Thranduil replied, placing a hand upon Gilglîr's shoulder. "Were it not for you, my son might never have been restored to me. Even if I lose him now, I will always be glad that for a time he was indeed my son. Perhaps that is why, should I ever lose Legolas again, I would endure, aye, and even some day again find that there is still joy in this world."
"Perhaps that is the reason. But I think it is also that your heart has grown larger. Now you care for many, and not just Legolas. Should Legolas die, your life would be not altogether empty. Not only would your heart treasure memories of your son: there would still be those upon whom you would lavish affection."
Thranduil knew this to be true. His 'family' had been much enlarged over the past few years. It now included not only Legolas but also Tawarmaenas and Tathar and Edwen Nana and Gilglîr, and, indeed, through those folk many others as well. All those for whom Legolas and the others cared, Thranduil could not help but care for, too. Tathar was a case in point. Gilglîr had been worried at how Thranduil would react to the news that Caranlass, whom Thranduil had hoped would espouse Legolas, had instead married Legolas' friend. Thranduil surprised Gilglîr by expressing not only approval but delight.
"Tathar! Now that is a worthy Elf. Caranlass has chosen well. And she is already with child—no, children, you say! It will be wonderful to have elflings livening up the Great Hall! For I am sure Tathar and his family will be here much. He is like a brother to Legolas, and even if he chooses to set up an establishment outside the Hall, he and his wife and younglings will always be visiting. Gilglîr, we must set aside larger apartments for the young family. Tathar has a fine room, but he must now have a suite of three. He and Caranlass will need a chamber of their own, of course, and the twins must have a nursery. Then the family must have a third room as a sort of parlor where they may entertain guests. Of course, these rooms must be situated near Edwen Nana's chamber, for you know that she will want to be the children's nursemaid. But do make sure that they will be near me as well. I so want to hear the babble of the young ones!"
"You will hear their wailing as well," Gilglîr warned, smiling.
"Oh, I doubt they'll wail much," laughed Thranduil. "With Nana hovering about, they will never go long hungry, wet, or tired. Indeed, we shall have to put her under orders not to spoil the young ones."
"She didn't spoil Legolas," Gilglîr pointed out.
"True. Very true."
Gilglîr was to be left with a daunting task. Tathar and Caranlass' rooms were to be near both Edwen Nana's and Thranduil's chambers, but Gilglîr also knew that Legolas would want to be near Tathar, but that Legolas would also want to be near Tawarmaenas, and that Thranduil delighted in keeping Tawarmaenas close as well, and of course, Legolas, too. Moreover, whenever Gandalf visited, he would need a chamber quite close to that of Edwen Nana's because—well, just because. And Gilglîr himself needed a chamber that would keep him near at hand to both Thranduil and Legolas.
In the end, Gilglîr hit upon a solution inspired by Gandalf's accounts of the dwellings of the Periannath.
'The Periannath', Gilglîr mused, 'rely greatly upon the circle in the design of their dwellings—so Mithrandir has told me. Perhaps I, too, ought to think in terms of circles. Instead of having rooms opening off a corridor, why not have a number of rooms opening into a common area—like spokes radiating from the center of a wheel? That way everyone's apartment would be close to that of everyone else's. Each room will be shaped rather like a slice of pie, but, as the Halflings have shown, no law requires that every architectural feature be rectilinear. Yes!' the Seneschal resolved, 'that is what I shall do! As soon as Thranduil has departed, I will send for some Naugrim from Erebor to carve out a new wing according to that design'.
Thranduil would have liked to have departed that very evening, but over the last few months there had been a sudden upsurge in the number of spiders lurking in the vicinity of the Great Hall. The King knew that it would be dangerous to venture out at night.
"While I am gone, Gilglîr, I hope you are able to mount a sortie against these spiders."
"I shall do so, Thranduil, but they will return."
"Aye, I think you are right. There is a source of evil in this world that grows ever stronger. Unless the source itself be defeated, these spiders, which are but its servants, will continue to flourish. Ai! But I do not think there is any way to extirpate the ultimate Enemy."
"Mithrandir has some hopes that there may be a way to force back the evil so that it will lie dormant for many a year."
"Oh, Mithrandir—of course he would say so. Confronting evil is his reason for being, I think."
"Yes, that is so, and when the evil has departed these lands, so will he."
"I don't see why. Wouldn't he remain to enjoy the peace he has wrought—should that indeed come to pass? It would hardly seem fair, otherwise."
"Thranduil, Mithrandir is not of Middle-earth—although I believe he very much wishes he were."
"You leave me with divided feelings, my friend. I would very much like to see the evil driven away, but I do not want to lose Mithrandir. It would be a great blow to Legolas, too.'
"But perhaps Mithrandir will not be lost to us forever. We, too, are not altogether of Middle-earth."
Thranduil looked downcast.
"I do not wish to leave Middle-earth," he murmured. "It is true that I have sad memories of this place, but now I find that far more powerful are the happy ones."
"If you depart Middle-earth," Gilglîr reminded him, "perhaps you will in time be vouchsafed a reunion with Laurelässe."
"There can be no gain without loss," Thranduil said sadly. "Is that not true, my friend?"
"It has proved so again and again," agreed Gilglîr.
Thranduil exhaled and then straightened his shoulders.
"Well, if I have learned anything, it is to cherish what I do have—for as long as I have it."
"You are wise," said Gilglîr encouragingly.
Thranduil shook his head deprecatingly.
"Listen to us! Pontificating like a couple of old philosophers!"
"But, Thranduil," smiled Gilglîr, "we are old philosophers."
"Do not remind me!"
Both Elves were smiling now, and, given the circumstances, the friends parted for the evening in tolerably good spirits. The next morning, Glorfindel, Thranduil, and the King's escort set out for Rivendell.
"We may follow my route back," Glorfindel told the King. "I do not believe any Orcs will molest us!"
"No, you made sure of that riding out, did you not, my friend. How is your hand, by the way?"
"Feels like a balrog bite," said Glorfindel indifferently.
"My, my, aren't we speaking off-handedly today."
"I beg your pardon: my hand is still very much attached, in spite of the best efforts of a rather large Orc."
Thranduil groaned in mock distress. Odd, he knew there was a possibility that he was riding to attend at the deathbed of his son. Why, then did he feel so calm, even cheerful? It must be true, what he had said to Gilglîr: even if his son should die, he would endure. In Middle-earth there would still be much to live for.
Glorfindel was right: no Orcs would hinder their journey. For miles on either side of the trail the Orcs had fled in terror of the balrog-slayer. Sooner than Thranduil would have believed possible, they were dismounting before Elrond's Hall, where Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf stood awaiting them.
"How fares my son?" Thranduil asked calmly.
"He does well, Thranduil," Elrond replied.
"No! no! you needn't dissemble. I am strong enough to bear up under whatever news there may be."
"Perhaps," suggested Galadriel, "we had better take Thranduil straightaway to his son."
"Yes," said Thranduil firmly. "I am prepared, come what may."
"May I accompany you?" asked Glorfindel anxiously.
"Of course, my friend. I would not part you from Legolas at a time like this."
Glorfindel knew the way and strode off, with Thranduil close behind. Following after, Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf exchanged smiles.
As they neared Legolas' chamber, Thranduil and Glorfindel heard the sound of a flute.
"That would be Tathar playing," Glorfindel said to the King. "He has kept vigil by your son's side, trying to soothe him with music."
They reached the chamber and Glorfindel flung open the door and then stepped aside to allow Thranduil to precede him. The King stepped into the room.
"Legolas!" he exclaimed in astonishment.
Legolas paused in his flute playing.
"Were you expecting someone different?" he said impishly.
Thranduil threw dignity to the winds and seized Legolas in a tight hug. He had steeled himself for the worst, but now, finding his son well, he cast aside all restraint and allowed his tears to flow.
Glorfindel stood gaping in the doorway.
"You, you, you, scamp!" blustered the balrog-slayer. "All the time I was hacking my way through Orcs, and here you were, fingering a flute. I shall skin you!"
"I am surprised Legolas has any skin left," said Galadriel dryly. But then she laid a comforting hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder because, for all his bluster, the balrog-slayer was crying, too.