Chapter 17

Once they had left Lasgalen, Elrond and Estel rode hard and quietly. They did not speak much, concentrating on their environment. Elrond had told his son that he expected to meet orcs; the last reports had indicated that orcs had been spotted on the mountain passes. They would have to be very careful. At the end of the first day, Estel was exhausted. They had ridden for almost 12 hours, with only a short break for some food at lunchtime. Fortunately, they had seen no signs of orcs or any other evil creatures.

They stopped at dusk to have something to eat. Estel was so tired that he almost fell of the horse rather than dismounted from it. Nevertheless, he prepared their simple meal whilst Elrond looked after the horses. They, too, were weary and needed rest.

Estel was so exhausted that even eating seemed to be an effort. Elrond watched the slow movements of his normally much more energetic son, and smiled. "Estel, time for you to sleep. I will take the watch tonight. You need to be able to ride hard again." Somewhat to the elf-lord's surprise, Estel did not protest. The young man grabbed his blanket and curled up beneath it. His eyes dropped shut before Elrond had a chance to say anything further. The elf shook his head in a gesture of both exasperation and amusement. Estel should have told him much earlier that he had reached his limits, but the boy would never admit that he did not have the stamina of an elf.

Elrond settled down for a long night watch. He thought about the visit to Lasgalen. Altogether, he felt, it had gone much better than he had anticipated. Thranduil had not been overly hostile towards Estel, and, contrary to all expectations, the young man seemed to have become friends with Prince Legolas. This was totally unanticipated, and Elrond was not quite certain how he should react to this friendship.

He thought back to the day when he had walked into Estel's room in the Halls of Healing and had found Estel brushing and braiding the prince's hair. That had been wholly inappropriate, and yet Legolas seemed not to have had any objections, indeed if the guilty expression on his face was any indication, he had enjoyed Estel's ministrations. And that contradicted everything Elrond had previously seen of Thranduil's son. From what he knew of the prince, Legolas did not encourage personal contact of any kind. And yet, he had formed a bond with Estel.

Even though Elrond had been preoccupied, he was not so blind as not to have seen that at all. He briefly wondered whether there was more than friendship between the two youngsters, but then dismissed the thought as utterly unlikely. It was already surprising that Estel and Legolas had become friends, to assume anything else would be presumptuous.

Elrond's thoughts wandered to his other two sons. Their decision to remain in Mirkwood and fight orcs and wargs saddened him. He felt that the twins were spending far too much time fighting. He knew that it was an elusive feeling of guilt and a desire for retribution that drove his sons, but he also knew that no matter how many orcs Elladan and Elrohir killed, it would not bring their mother back. Celebrian had left to go to the west, after having been captured and tortured by orcs. Elrond sighed. Thinking of Celebrian always filled him with regret and remorse – that he had not been able to do more for her, that they had not loved each other more, perhaps if he had loved her more, she would have stayed, so many ifs… paths not taken … Elrond knew that these thoughts were futile, he had been through them many times. And yet, he could never quite lay them to rest.

Elrond's thoughts moved on to Arwen. Beautiful, and strong willed, she was living in Lothlorien with her grandparents. She had left Imladris about ten years ago, and it had not been on good terms. Elrond hoped that one day they would be able to rebuild their relationship.

The night passed slowly. It was a clear, starlit night, and Elrond spent much of it reaching out to the stars, finding comfort in the presence of his forebears. As morning dawned, he woke Estel for an early start.

-o-o-o-

They had not travelled far the next morning and were on open stretch of the road, when Elrond suddenly stopped. Surprised, Estel opened his mouth to speak.

Elrond laid his hand on Estel's arm. "Ssh, Estel… quiet. I can hear something", the elf-lord said in a very low voice. He listened for a while. "Horses. Six of them, with shoes. These riders are men. We should find some cover to find out who they are."

"Where?"

Elrond looked around. This was a legitimate question. The road they were on was an unpaved, elevated highway used by travellers crossing the mountains. They had just entered the foothills of the mountains, and on one side of road, the ground dropped away a considerable distance and on the other side was a fairly steep rock wall. There was really nowhere to go.

"Estel, I am not happy about this. I do not know what this is, but somehow…", he hesitated, uncharacteristically at a loss of words," I have a feeling that it would be better if they find out as little as they can. I would like these people to see and remember you as an elf, not a young man. Do you think you can do that?"

"Ada, they will be able to tell at first glance!"

Elrond smiled briefly. "No, Estel, for mortals who have not seen many elves, you look very much like an elf. You just need to keep your ears covered, they are your most obvious give-away."

Estel nodded, slightly nervous. He quickly opened the braids that held his hair away from his face and thus exposed his round ears, and tied the dark strands loosely together in the back of his neck. That style should cover his ears. Elrond nodded, and then they saw the riders appearing.

Estel looked at the approaching riders with curiosity. He had actually not seen many humans, and these riders looked different from any other humans he had seen before.

They were dressed in brightly coloured, flowing robes that had seen much hard wear. Their skin was dark, much darker than any human Estel had ever seen before. On their heads they wore long scarves that fell over their shoulders and covered most of their faces. As Elrond had predicted, there were six of them.

Elrond frowned. He knew these people for who they were – Haradrim from the South. Why were they here in this northern region?

The riders came closer, and stopped. "Greetings, Master Elves". The speaker appeared to be the leader of the men. He spoke Westron with a guttural accent that Estel found hard to understand.

"Greetings to you as well. It is a long time that I have seen men from your home country. You are a long way from home." Elrond's statement contained an implicit question.

The leader of the Haradrim nodded. His scarf covered most of his face; only a pair of sharp black eyes surrounded by brown skin was visible. "Yes, we are indeed. We are traders and have done business across the mountains in a small place called Bree, and are now on our way home."

Estel was curious to know what these exotic strangers had done in Bree. But Elrond simply answered: "We are from Rivendell and are on our way home."

"Rivendell?" Is this not the elven home where the mighty Lord Elrond lives?" Estel noticed that suddenly all six men appeared uncomfortable, as if mentioning Rivendell made them uneasy. Elrond noticed the change as well, and decided that he would not identify himself.

"Yes, Rivendell, or Imladris as we call it, is Lord Elrond's home."

Now clearly uncomfortable, the Haradrim shifted on his horse and nodded. "We wish you a safe and pleasant journey home. We want to cover a large distance today and must continue."

"May your journey be safe."

Both parties turned their horses and left in opposite directions. As soon as the men were out of earshot, Estel asked: "Father, you were right! They did not even notice I am not an elf! But what could they want in Bree?"

Elrond was looking very pensive. "I will need to find out why they were in Bree, and why they fear my name. There is something very odd about this." He turned and looked after the riders. "If it did not take us back where we have just come from, I would very much like to follow them for a little while, to see if we can find out more about them."

"We could do that, Ada. We do not need to be home at a certain day."

"Are you sure that you want to go this extra way? We do not know where this will take us."

Estel nodded. He was quite excited about the prospect of following these peculiar strangers.

Elrond looked one more time at his son, and then turned his horse again. They followed the Haradrim riders at a safe distance. This was not difficult to accomplish since Elrond could see much further than the humans.

-o-o-o-

Legolas had not slept well in the previous night. Even though Estel had only left a day ago, he missed the young man intensely. Estel's departure left a hole in Legolas life that he had been aware of but which now seemed to have grown much larger. In the brief time they had had together, Estel had become a much-needed friend and more.

As he sat at his desk trying to sort through the accumulated paperwork, Legolas put his elbows on the desk and rested his forehand in his hands. He was surprised how keenly he missed Estel already, and how much he had got used to his presence. Legolas' thoughts wandered back to the morning. After a restless night, he had woken up tense and unrested. Finally he decided to leave the paperwork, and went to find Galadhir for some training. The thought cheered him up, and he hurried through the most urgent tasks.

After the midday meal, he went to find Galadhir. He found the instructor on the training ground, watching a group of younger warriors practise shooting from horse back onto moving targets – other warriors on foot who carried shields which had to be hit in the centre, and who moved and run at will to make the shots harder.

Legolas quietly stood next to Galadhir. When the instructor realised who had come up to him, he smiled slightly. "Prince Legolas! I have not seen you in a while. Have your guests left?"

"Yes, they have."

Galadhir's attention returned to the practice battlefield before him. "Elendor! You must be quicker with your bow – I have not yet seen you hit a target in the centre! Berendil, you horse will not let you fall – concentrate on your shooting, not your riding!"

The instructor turned to Legolas again. He looked at the prince for a long moment. "Come to the training ground in the afternoon, Legolas. I will be there."

Legolas filled the next hours by finding his own instructors and catching up on some neglected sessions. He found concentrating hard, and his sword practice was even less accomplished than usual. The trainer, a strong, tall elf named Telerion set his own sword down, sighed and frowned. "Prince Legolas, you must focus on what you are doing. I have been training you for years now with the sword, and I am beginning to feel that we are not achieving much here. Even after all these years, you are yielding this sword as if it was some kind of a heavy stick! You have to think of it as an extension of your am!"

Legolas looked down, his sword still in his hand. He, too, sighed. He knew he had not done well. There was also a part of him whish rebelled against what Telerion had said. Suddenly the hurt of Estel's departure, his inability even to speak about this to anyone and the unsuccessful sword practice turned dejection into defiance.

He looked up and met the instructor's eyes. "I am not good with the sword, Telerion, we both know this. I also know that I have probably learned that I am going to learn with the sword. I can defend myself with it, but it will never be my weapon of choice. Since early this summer, Galadhir has instructed me in the use of two long knives, I am much more accomplished with them than with a sword, even though I have been training with them only for a few months, and I have tried for years with the sword. I would like to stop these lessons."

Telerion looked horrified. "Prince Legolas, I have failed you. I should have tried harder. Your father would be most displeased if we discontinue these lessons."

Legolas looked at the instructor levelly. "I will talk to my father. We will see what he will say. Thank you for spending all this time with me" He thought, but did not say, that he was fairly certain that Thranduil would hardly notice the request, as most things concerning Legolas did not seem to be very important to him at the moment. Legolas knew that he was probably unfair towards his father, and yet it seemed that in the last years they had truly grown apart.

Telerion nodded. "I will speak to you later."

-o-o-o-

Later that afternoon, Legolas met Galadhir as agreed. But even with the knives, today Legolas was unable to concentrate. Galadhir noticed it, and also that Legolas looked tired and drawn. After a while, he stopped the practice and asked Legolas to sit down on the grassy verge of the training ground.

"Legolas? What is wrong with you today? You are as tense as a strung bow and your performance was much worse than it has been in a long time." Galadhir could see the tension in Legolas' body; the younger elf had pulled up his knees and slung his arms around his legs. There was something in his body language that told Galadhir that the normally so composed prince needed comfort, and needed it badly. On the risk of overstepping the boundaries of what Legolas would find acceptable, he put his arms around the hunched up form of his pupil and pulled him close.

"What is it, Legolas?"

Galadhir half expected the younger elf to jump up defiantly and challenge the comfort offered. But to his surprise, Legolas leaned into the embrace, but said nothing. His long hair hid his face, and Galadhir gently pushed the soft strands aside. "It should be his father doing this, not me," thought the instructor, not for the first time angry with Thranduil for not seeing what happened in his son's life.

Suddenly Galadhir noticed that Legolas was crying. Quietly, without making any sound. This was so out of character that Galadhir was beginning to get worried. If nothing else, Legolas had a rigid self-control that he applied ruthlessly and which had earned him the reputation of being as 'cold as ice'. But Galadhir also knew that pushing to tell him would not lead anywhere. When he was ready, the youngster would talk. So for, the time being, he knelt next Legolas, encircling the younger elf with his arms and providing what comfort he could.

He did not have to wait very long. Slowly the quiet sobbing subsided and Legolas turned his head so that he could see Galadhir's face. "I am sorry, Galadhir. I apologise for this inappropriate behaviour."

Galadhir smiled. "Young prince, I wish you would tell me what troubles you, perhaps I could help you."

Legolas shook his head. "No one can. There is nothing that can be done." He looked down at his knees again. He sighed, and still looking down, said: "It is Estel. I like him, and I do not think I will ever see him again. I am sorry."

Galadhir was stunned. If Legolas was this upset, 'liking' meant something else. And Estel was mortal and from Imladris! Galadhir was immediately aware of the implications.

And yet, the most important issue was a deeply unhappy young elf in front of him. Galadhir doubted that Legolas had had a lover before; to lose your first love in this manner would be very painful. Especially for someone who did not have many emotional ties.

The instructor did not know how to respond immediately, but pulled the young elf closer.

"No, there is not much I can do about this. But you are still young, and so is he. You may well see each other again. Oh, Legolas, why did you have to fall for a mortal, and one from Imladris at that?"

Legolas' eyes met Galadhir's. "I do not know. He is not at all how I thought mortals are like. He is not all that different from us; there are just some things he cannot do as well. He is kind, and does not treat me as 'the prince'. I could just be myself with him."

Galadhir regarded Legolas for a moment in silence. "Legolas… just how far did this relationship go?"

Legolas blushed fiercely from the tips of his ears to his neck. That was all the answer that Galadhir needed. He sighed. At least Estel was not a mortal female; the risk of pregnancy would have made things even more complicated.

Galadhir decided that whatever words he could use would not help Legolas much. So he simply held the young elf and gently rubbed his back. In the few months he had spent training Legolas, he had realised there was much more to the young prince than most people knew. Underneath the aloof, self-composed prince there was a very vulnerable young elf, who had the misfortune of having a father who could not or did not wish to see his son for the person he was.

From what little Legolas had said about his life and what Galadhir had observed, it was obvious to the instructor that Thranduil wished for a son who was much more like himself – strong, outwardly confident, the image of a warrior king, and that he did not relate well to his reserved, almost delicately beautiful child. And yet, Legolas was strong, and skilled. The young elf's archery was exceptional and he showed promise in other areas of battle training as well, but Galadhir had little doubt that Thranduil did not recognise or acknowledge this.

For a brief moment, Galadhir felt very protective towards the young prince, very much in the same way that he had felt many centuries ago for his own children. Both of them were now grown, and led their own lives. His daughter, Elerwen, had bonded many years ago to one of Mirkwood's warrior maidens. She was happy, and he was happy for her. Her mate was a good match. Galadhir's sole regret was that Elerwen would not give him grandchildren – although the healers had told them that this would have been unlikely anyway. His son had married as well, and had had two sons of his own, now both grown. With a start Galadhir realised that his grandchildren were older than the young elf he still held.

Legolas shifted in the instructor's embrace. "Galadhir? Please do not tell my father. He would make certain I never see Estel again, and it would probably cause more friction between Imladris and us. Please …"

Galadhir gently laid a finger on Legolas' mouth. "Do not worry. One day you will tell him or he has to find out for himself. But … Legolas, Estel is mortal. It is his fate to die. Even if you manage to see him again, it will only be for a few short decades. You will get hurt, badly. It might be best to let it go now …"

"I cannot do that, Galadhir. I care too much for him." Legolas dark eyes met and held the older elf's gaze. Galadhir recognised that Legolas had spoken the truth; his eyes reflected a depth of affection that surprised the instructor. He sighed again, and squeezed Legolas a bit harder.

"You know you can come to me and talk, Legolas."

"Thank you, Galadhir. It means a lot to me."

After a brief while, Galadhir released the younger elf, and together they made their way back to the palace.

-o-o-o-

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