Destiny's Arrow
(Departure and Discovery)
Part One- Departure
Though all tried to make merry on the journey, it was a generally morose party that accompanied Celebrian and Thurinhên through the Shire and North country as they made their way to the Grey Havens. Círdan and a band of other Telleri greeted Elrond and his company solemnly at the shore where the grey figurehead of a swan arched its long, graceful neck from the prow of the small ship that rocked gently in the water. No tears were shed as Celebrian bid, first Glorfindel, then her sons, and finally her husband farewell with kisses, kind words of advice, and promises that they would all meet again on the fairer shore of Valinor.
Despite her comfort, Elrond felt as though his heart would cease to beat without her. She had sustained and supported him through so many trials and hardships. She had brought his children into the world. During her short sojourns to Lorien, he had hungered for her return. And now without her, he felt that he would surely wither in starvation.
Neither Elladan nor Elrohir would look their mother in the face. They felt abandoned. Her decision had struck them completely off guard. Though they were grown, she was still so much a part of who they had become. Her quiet guidance had played a more instrumental role in molding their identities than they had, until the news of her decision, realized. Who will scold us when we come to supper unwashed? Who else will know all our scars?—Elrohir wondered. Who will stay by our bedsides when we are ill or injured? How will any of us get along without her?—mused Elladan.
Glorfindel, alone, mourned Thurinhên's passage. He grieved for Elrond's ignorance to her true identity—for the fact that he was losing his grandchild and did not know it. And, in small part, he pitied Legolas who would never know of his own daughter. He would miss Celebrian, but he wished more than anything that he could watch Thurinhên grow into the lovely young elf he knew she would become. He truly felt as a father giving up his only offspring.
A melancholy sort of peace descended upon the elves left standing on the shore. The stern of the boat receded, quickly disappearing into the morning mist that rose thick from the glassy surface of the water. The tide was ebbing, and on it went the Lady of Imladris and a secret whose discovery could have threatened the future of the free lands of Middle-earth.
When they arrived home, the halls of the Last Homely House seemed empty and lifeless in their mistress's absence. Supper was a quiet, rather dull affair that evening. Conversation was sparse and stilted at best and most left the dining room as soon as they had eaten. Elrond remained at the head of the table for the sake of hospitality. Glorfindel remained at his side until all the others departed.
"Go to bed, Glorfindel. Though I thank you, you do not need to keep me company," Elrond said distantly.
"Are you certain?" asked the yellow haired elf. "I know that I cannot be the companion your lady would, but if you desire the presence of another, I will stay."
"No, my friend. Thank you, but I wish to be alone now," returned the darker elf, still not removing himself entirely from his thoughts. "Besides, I believe that Legolas is waiting to speak to you outside." A scowl pulled at Glorfindel's features as he wondered with distaste what the Prince of Mirkwood might ask of him. Silently, he bowed his head to his friend, and stood to leave.
Legolas, who had offered his services to Elrond in Glorfindel's absence, did, indeed, lurk quietly in the shadows. Glorfindel regarded him coldly as he stepped out onto the deeply shaded veranda.
"What do you want?" Glorfindel inquired shortly.
"I am pleased to find you as genial as ever. Let us make no pretense of fondness for one another, then…"
"Spare me your fine words, dear prince. What would you have of me?"
"Walk with me. I wish to speak privately," said Legolas haughtily, his eyes flickering toward the doorway through which Elrond still sat, brooding, at the long table. The elder elf, wearily motioned for the younger to lead the way, delighting in the knowledge that his gesture irritated the black haired prince. Glorfindel's eyes sparkled at the exasperation that glinted in Legolas's frosty grey glare and at the flush that colored the tips of his pointed ears. A snarl tickled the back of Legolas's throat. He stifled it. He knew that the fairer elf could see his frustration and did not wish to give him the satisfaction of hearing it as well. The prince took a wide berth of Glorfindel as he led the way toward the gates of Imladris. They passed under the stone arch and walked until they came to a birch grove well out of earshot of Rivendell. Then, Legolas turned, his impassive features awash with silvery moonlight that shone on his black hair and caught eerily in his pale eyes. "Why did she go to Lorien and when will she return?" asked the elf tersely.
"That is her affair and none of your concern, boy. Now, if I may have his highness' leave…," Glorfindel spoke mockingly as he made to leave. Before he could turn his back, though, the younger elf's strong hand darted out and took a fistful of his tunic, pulling him so close that their noses almost touched. Legolas's face was twisted with anger. Likewise, Glorfindel was shocked and incensed at the younger elf's audacity. "Unhand me, boy," the elf lord spat.
"Tell me," Legolas whispered fiercely.
"She left to be free of you and I suspect she will not return until you leave," growled Glorfindel, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Legolas loosened his grip a little, his expression softening as he considered what the other elf had said.
"I do not believe you," he snarled, anger sharpening his features once more. "Are you so envious our love? Are you so jealous that she took me to her bed instead of you that you would shame yourself, and her, with such a lie?" the prince finished, pushing Glorfindel forcefully away as he released his coat.
"I care not for her bed. I love her. Are you so jealous that she took me into her heart and held you always at arm's length that you would wrong her, and me, with your selfish desires?" hissed the elder. Legolas was still and silent, momentarily dumbstruck by Glorfindel's words—Surely his words are not hers. Surely she knows how I love her. My own desires have always been second to her own. That is as it should be. Had I demanded anything of her, it would have been only that we seal our bond in formal marriage. And he, the prideful hypocrite…
"'Selfish desires'? Who are you to condemn selfish desires—you? One who would not set aside his desires in order to keep his own bastard child rather than besetting his responsibility upon his mistress and friend?" Legolas's voice was soft, but his tone was hard—contemptuous and hateful.
"Be SILENT!" roared Glorfindel. Again, Legolas was stunned silent. "You do not know…," he began, shaking with fury, "You do not know what you say or who you wrong with your words—be silent."
"My apologies. I meant no offense to the child. She is innocent. I mean only to insult you and your whore…" Almost quicker than Legolas could see, and certainly quicker than he could defend, Glorfindel's fist collided with his jaw. The tremendous force of the blow snapped the dark elf's head to the side and knocked him off balance enough to send him sprawling on his back. Legolas opened his mouth to curse the elf that towered over him, fists still clenched, but the words were replaced by an inarticulate grunt as pain flared near his ear. He shut his eyes tighter, wading through the pain of opening his mouth wider and shifting his jaw to the left until, with an audible pop, it found its proper articulation once more.
"Let that be a lesson. Speak in ignorance and you shall make yourself a fool. Know what you say before you let your tongue flap idly with insults, or next time you cross my path, I will not be so genial," and with that, Glorfindel turned, leaving the Thranduil's son bruised and bitter in the stand of birches, and made his way back toward Imladris.
Legolas pressed his palm to his cheek. The skin was feverishly hot beneath his fingers and he could already feel the swelling beginning. Sitting amongst the composting leaves of the previous fall, cradling his jaw, watching Glorfindel stalk off, Legolas knew that his verbal assault had been childish and uncalled for in its severity. But in truth, though he was loath to admit it, Glorfindel had hit the mark.
Though he and Arwen were One in spirit, Legolas sensed that she had always withheld a part of herself from him. Even in their most intimate moments, when both their souls lay bare, she was somehow reserved. He had felt it most on the day she left for the Golden Wood.
Everything about her had seemed indescribably, subtly, yet strongly different at their last meeting. When she greeted him on the bridge that late afternoon, she had been more radiantly beautiful than he had ever before seen her. Perhaps it was only the warmth of sunset that lingered in her eyes and glowed on her skin—he thought. But, then, he remembered how she had touched his face, her fingertips gliding over his skin as she would have skimmed them over the surface of a still pond, sending ripples of joy through his being. In the deep shadows of night, where only moonlight had traced the contours of both their bodies that moved as one, her scent, her taste had enflamed him with both their familiarity and their freshness. She had been new and alive. Yet still she had held back.
Something—a revelation, he imagined, danced just beyond his grasp somewhere between his recollection of the last night he had spent with Arwen and Glorfindel's angry words, but the pain, that shot from his jaw and ricocheted about the inside his skull in the form of a splitting headache, was overpowering his ability to think clearly, and the conclusion he knew he should be able to reach, refused to solidify. Very well—he decided at length—If she will not come to me, then I will go to her. Enough of these cursed doubts and questions and half-truths of Glorfindel's. I will go to her. Legolas stood slowly, waited for the dizziness to subside, and marched swiftly back to Rivendell.
Once within the walls, he discreetly woke a scullery maid and a young elf who tended the stables. The maid, he sent to the kitchens to procure and pack foodstuffs for his journey. The lad, he sent to fetch, feed, water, and tack his horse. The prince himself went to his quarters, packed his few belongings and quickly scrawled a note to Elrond and one to his father, Thranduil, in Greenwood:
Lord Elrond Peredhil—
First, my apologies for my abrupt departure, but my business cannot be delayed.
Your hospitality is of well deserved fame and it has been my honor and privilege to dwell here in Imladris as your guest. My poor service to you is ill thanks for your generosity, but I am at your disposal if ever you have need of me.
I wish you and your family every happiness in this time of sadness for us all. Your Lady is a fine and goodly elf. I look forward to the day when we all shall meet on the far shore.
And now, if I may impose on your good will only a little further, I would ask two small favors of you. Will you, first, give your daughter my regards when she returns? I have come to enjoy her company during my visits and, though your house is indeed lovely, I find it lacking when she is gone. Second, I would have the enclosed message relayed to my father if you can spare a messenger.
Again, many thanks and best wishes.
Namarie—
Legolas Greenleaf; Son of Thranduil, King of the Silvan Elves of Greenwood the Great
The second note read:
Father—
I am gone to the woods or Lothlorien. I do not know how long the journey will take or how long I will stay. I go to find my love and Lady, Arwen. She did not return with her mother and their escort and I must know the reason why. I fear what will come of our meeting, but I am compelled to go.
Know that I am well. I will be home as soon as circumstance permits.
All my love—
Legolas
Just as he finished his spidery signature, a tentative knock sounded on the heavy door of his chamber.
"A moment," he answered the knock. Neatly, he folded the notes. With the candle that lit his writing desk, Legolas melted the tip of a pillar of red wax he'd found in one of the drawers. He sealed the letter to his father with personal crest, and, then, answered the door.
On the threshold stood the drowsy girl with a cleverly packed knapsack of simple food items and a small silver canteen of the cordial of Imladris in one hand, and in the other a sweating leathern flask of frigid water. Legolas took the bag gratefully, but raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the young elf as she offered him the cold bottle.
"You should put this on your jaw as long as it stays cold," she yawned. "It will help with the swelling," she finished shyly, indicating his rapidly blackening and already swollen jaw.
"Thank you, lady," he smiled warmly, her thoughtfulness, momentarily, washing away his foul humor. "Would you be so kind as take one to lord Glorfindel's quarters as well, compliments of me? His poor knuckles will be in sore need as well, I imagine," said Legolas, half amused, half bitter. Then he put his finger to his lips, "It will be our secret." The young maid blushed furiously as the prince bowed his head to her and made for the stables. Before either of them had taken three steps, though, he turned and stopped her again. "And one more thing, my dear—would you please see that Lord Elrond receives these in the morning?"
"O-Of course, my lord," she stammered a little, flattered by his impeccable manners. It will be our secret—with those simple words, Legolas had ensured that she would not breath a word of his ruined jaw or Glorfindel's bruised knuckles to anyone.
Thranduil's son jogged silently through the halls of Rivendell, and out to the stables where his horse waited, still munching contentedly with a feedbag over its muzzle. As he waited for his mount to finish its meal, he packed his saddlebags and checked the animal's hooves.
The full moon was high in the sky when Legolas thanked the boy and rode into the humid, summer night.
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AN: I realize if it had occurred to me sooner to split this chapter as I have, I could have posted sooner. Please hang onto those olives…don't pelt me with them. I'm sorry. The smut SHOULD be along shortly. REVIEW! ~DR
AN2: 9/28/02—I'm so bad. I have been completely slack in writing and posting. Here's what's finished to date…I thought if I had it all posted again, it might give me the kick in the butt I needed. We'll see, I suppose. Thank you all for your support. ~DR