Ever since he found out that Legolas had chosen Fangorn Forest of all places to hide himself and his son when practically all of Eriador was largely uninhabited and relatively safe after the War Eomer had wondered about why he'd made that decision. Now with each passing minute that they spent riding deeper and deeper into the forest of Mirkwood it was getting easier for the Man to understand. While Legolas' homeland wasn't as ancient as the woods of the Ents (one didn't need to be a wood elf to feel the immense age of Fangorn after being in it once) and didn't have all of the same types of trees, they both had a similar quality about them. Neither place would be one that Eomer would choose to go on his own, or miss if he was away from it for too long.
Mirkwood, like Fangorn, was dark, with the sunlight managing to break through the heavy tree cover only sporadically, and it felt just as perilous and ominous. Eomer could practically feel the spirit of the forest warning him that any stranger there could try to learn its secrets and lay claim to its treasure but the price that would have to be paid would be terrible. Nature there didn't function like it did in most places in the world – as a backdrop, a passive setting where the more active lives of people could take place. It was, for lack of a better description, alive to a degree that the Man had only witnessed anywhere else briefly once before: when Fangorn got its revenge against the uruk-hai at Helm's Deep and the nerve-wracking ride through the deadly forest afterwards. All around him he could swear that he could hear the trees whispering.
"Don't worry, Papa," Caladel had tried to reassure him when something sounding very much like a hiss had made the Man nearly jump out of his skin. "They're talking, but not about you."
"For the most part," the elven guard who'd greeted him, Legolas, and Caladel near the boundaries of the forest felt the need to add.
"Well, I suppose that they are talking about you a little," conceded Caladel when Eomer threw him a pleading glance. "But it's not really anything too bad. Mostly they're just happy to have Ada with them again and they're wondering who the strangers are that are coming with him. It'll be a while before they'll really accept that I'm his son and you're my sire, but only because it takes a long time for a tree to change in any way unless it really needs to."
Still, Eomer couldn't help feeling that the trees were much more accepting of Caladel than they were of him. The essence of what Legolas was practically radiated from his son while he himself was not only a stranger but a strange race to the woods. Yes, he was sure that the looks of curiosity and whispers of cautious greeting that they were giving the boy changed into dark threats when they turned their attentions to Eomer. It felt to him as if they were taking great pleasure in glaring at him. Of course, that feeling probably also came from the fact that their escort had spent pretty much all of their trip glaring at him as well.
It had been a pleasant enough greeting for the elves when Legolas spotted him lingering at the edge of the forest and waved enthusiastically, but a terribly awkward one for Eomer. The guard apparently knew Legolas beyond what was usual for a citizen to know the realm's prince – Legolas had quickly explained that they had been a part of the same border patrol before, one that had been broken up shortly before he'd become a part of the Fellowship of the Ring for reasons that neither one seemed to eager to rehash – and had greeted him with just as much enthusiasm, going on and on about how everyone was thrilled to hear that he was well and how they couldn't wait to have him back in their midst.
Then he'd turned his attentions to the two people who were accompanying his long-absent prince. To Caladel he was equally polite, curious, and warm; not letting a single negative emotion that he might have felt slip through (which was a fairly admirable task, as the elfling hadn't been at his best, having been in a sullen mood since leaving Edoras without getting his own horse to ride). The guard didn't seem taken aback at all about the fact that the boy was part Man; Eomer had assumed that King Thranduil had let his people know about this beforehand so that no one could use surprise as an excuse for saying anything thoughtless. In answering the questions that must have followed that announcement the elven king had to have told them about Eomer's claim; perhaps that had been why the guard went on to glare murderously at him before offering up the coldest, most curt welcome that he could reasonably get away with. The Man was under the distinct impression that, beyond blaming him for Legolas running away all those years ago, the guard believed that he wasn't good enough to have anything to do with Mirkwood's prince. From that moment on the ride to King Thranduil's cavern palace couldn't get over with fast enough for Eomer.
Caladel would have agreed with him had he known his papa's thoughts, though not for the same reasons. Usually he would have enjoyed this part of the journey because it gave him the chance to be among trees again; for all its wonders Rohan (at least around Edoras) was distinctly lacking in trees and there were still times that the boy felt more at ease around them that he did around people. That day, however, he was too busy bursting with excitement and curiosity to appreciate his wooded surroundings. He couldn't wait to see the heart of the land that his grandfather ruled and where his ada grew up! Stories of that place that fueled Caladel's imagination had been prominent in Legolas' tales when the two lived in Fangorn. Now, after seeing how much better some of the other things in those stories were when he came across them in real life, he had to know how the real Mirkwood would compare. So far it hadn't disappointed him but the real test still laid ahead.
"Are we almost there?" he asked Legolas, shifting uncomfortably on Arod's back.
"Patience, ion nin," admonished Legolas gently as he gave the boy a reassuring pat on the back. "I promise that we'll be there soon enough. We're already closer to where we're going than we are to where we came in."
"And what you find once you reach your destination will be worth the wait," added the guard with a mysterious smile. "King Thranduil has been making plans for your arrival ever since he returned. To be honest I don't know how he managed to refrain from extending his invitation to you for as long as he did."
"Dear Elbereth, what is he up to now?" wondered Legolas with a little trepidation. His father wasn't exactly known for his ability to remain understated when people he cared about were involved, so the possibilities were endless. "You might as well tell me, mellon nin; I swear that I will act surprised when we get there but I'd like to have a little time to prepare for whatever it is."
"It's no secret," replied the guard. "He figured that you'll be at the palace by the time of the noon meal and he's taken great pains to plan a feast of remarkable magnificence to be ready when you arrive."
Considering that it could have been something much more embarrassingly extravagant Legolas knew that he should have been relieved; unfortunately what he was feeling was the exact opposite. "A feast?" he repeated, unable to keep all of his dismay out of his voice. While he loved his people and had missed them terribly during his years of exile the prince couldn't fathom having to face a large crowd of them at the end of his journey. He would need at least a few hours to collect himself and find his bearings again before he could publicly own up to the fact that he'd abandoned them in their hour of need and beyond!
The guard immediately understood his hesitation. "Yes, a private feast," he stressed with a hint of a comforting smile. "The king has had the kitchen staff hopping since before I set out to meet you to make a special meal for just him, you, and your son." His expression grew almost pained as he turned to Eomer. "I suppose that you will be invited as well."
"It is very hospitable of King Thranduil to include me in his time with his family," said Eomer diplomatically, though he wasn't sure what would make him more uncomfortable: being sent off somewhere while Legolas and Caladel ate without him or spending an entire meal under the elven king's penetrating stare. But there wasn't a proper response to convey that feeling ad he didn't want to do or say anything that would make the guard even more hostile toward him.
Legolas rolled his eyes and made a face. "Yes, I guess it would," he said sharply, looking at the guard just as much as he looked at Eomer while he spoke. "Especially since you are Ada's guest. It would be hospitable of him to treat you accordingly."
Caladel, either not comprehending the tension between the three adult or else choosing not to acknowledge it, stared up innocently at the guard. "Do you know what kinds of food there will be?" he wondered.
"I do not know the exact menu," the guard replied in a kind tone. "But I imagine that there will be all different times; enough to suit every kind of taste that you may have."
"Like what?" persisted Caladel, undiscouraged after not getting the answer that he'd been looking for. He was, after all, his ada's son, who was in turn his ada's son; he was the third generation of a line of stubbornness. Giving up and settling for less just wouldn't do. "I don't mean to be so nosy –"
Legolas made a noise that sounded distinctly like he was trying to rein in a snort.
-"But different places have different foods," continued Caladel, oblivious to his ada's amusement. "You see, when I lived in Fangorn Forest I could get certain kinds of foods there; and now that I live in Edoras I can get certain types of foods there too. Sometimes there are foods that I can get in both places but other foods – like those special nuts that Quickbeam, Ada, and I used to pick, or the pastries in Rohan that Fredwyn the cook makes – that I couldn't get in the other place. Do I hear water?"
"Yes," Legolas couldn't help laughing, both in happiness when he recognized the sound of that particular body of water and at the guard's bewilderment. Caladel was hard to have a conversation with at times because he lacked a long enough attention span and didn't care about making all of his thoughts flow together easily. "The forest river is right before us."
"A river?" Caladel's ears perked up. After months of having to bathe in a confining little tub he was around a river again! "May I go swimming in it, Ada? Please?"
"Absolutely not," declared Legolas cheerfully. "Nor should you want to, unless you wish to take a very long nap that's full of strange dreams."
The boy's expression conveyed his disappointment for a second before he realized what his father was talking about. Then his face brightened in wonder and his clapped his hands. "It's the enchanted river, isn't it!" he exclaimed gleefully. "That one from the story with the dwarves in it. Oh, I've heard you talk about it and Gimli talk about it and now I get to see it for myself! I have to see it now; please, Ada? I promise I won't take too long."
"Or set one toe in it," prompted Legolas.
"Or set one toe in it," repeated Caladel eagerly.
"That will be fine then. Here, my friend," Legolas gestured for the guard to come closer. When the elf complied accordingly, Legolas picked up his son and plopped him down in front of him on the other horse. "Take my child down to the river and mind him, as he sometimes has trouble following instructions when he gets excited. There's no need for all of us to go down there since it won't take too long so I think I'll just stay here and keep Eomer company."
"Of course, my prince," said the guard, and he took off with the elfling.
Eomer waited for a few moments after the pair had departed before he spoke. "Do I want to know why you're here keeping Eomer company instead of having both of us go down to the river with our son?" he asked, attempting to be funny.
"I'm sorry, Eomer," said Legolas.
Not even a smile. The elf must have been more caught up in whatever was bothering him than he thought. "Whatever for?" pressed Eomer.
"For the way that the guard's been treating you all this way," replied Legolas guiltily, nodding his head in the direction of the path that the guard had ridden down with Caladel. "You're a guest here and do not deserve to be treated so scornfully."
"I'm a big boy," joked Eomer, hoping to console him. "I can handle it."
"But you shouldn't have to," argued Legolas. "Oh, I'd hoped that it wouldn't be an issue, but…"
"I understand why he doesn't like me, Legolas," Eomer tried to reassure him. "To your people I'm the person who got you pregnant, drove you away with my neglect, and now apparently lacks any of the good graces that would convince you to marry me. Honestly, I would have been shocked if there hadn't been a little hostility toward me."
Legolas wiped his hand down his face. "There's more to it than his issues with you personally," he informed him. "You're a Man."
"And the elves of Mirkwood dislike Men?" asked Eomer, feeling a bit more uneasy. He remembered Legolas' surprise when he'd told the elf that Thranduil had stayed in Edoras for a time while he was looking for his son; and cursed himself for not connecting that to a bigger issue until now.
"It's not that exactly," Legolas explained regretfully. "It's got more to do with the fact that they don't know a lot of Men personally and that they tend to distrust what they don't know. We are very isolated out here, and the spiders and orcs that used to roam the forest freely further discouraged anyone from coming. We rarely get any visitors, let alone members of other races. Elbereth, it's…"
Damn! Why did memories of Aragorn have to pop up like that? There were more important things to think about! "It's been over seventy years since a Man's spent a significant amount of time in Mirkwood and a good six or seven years since one has stepped foot in the heart of the realm at all. As a result, most people's perceptions of Men are colored by the telling and retelling of the story of Isildur succumbing to the temptation of the Ring."
"I can see why that is," said Eomer graciously. "Please don't be disappointed that those perceptions are still in place – it will take time to heal that wound. I can deal with whatever attitude people might have toward me in the meantime."
"I'm worried about Caladel," Legolas admitted suddenly. "You are a good person, Eomer – strong and considerate – and an adult; but he's just a child, and one that's not very familiar with the way people act at that. He wouldn't understand why people might be mean to him for something that he has no control over. I can't stand the thought of someone being deliberately cruel and rude to him just because of his Mannish blood."
"From what I've observed when it comes to your father I'm sure that he'll probably have some ghastly punishment in store for anyone who'd treat his grandson so poorly," noted Eomer sagely.
He reached out and squeezed Legolas' arm cautiously. The elf rewarded him by nodding, smiling slightly, and patting the hand that was on him. Eomer's heart skipped a beat. "Take heart, Legolas," he went on. Thank the Valar that his voice still sounded normal! "He is your son too and it would be difficult for even the most prejudice person to ignore that fact whenever they look at him. Any fool will see more of you in Caladel than any of his few Mannish features. Besides," he added in a lower, conspiratorial tone, "by the time I leave there they'll all be so impressed that they'll be begging to have Men sire all of their children."
That got a huge guffaw out of the prince. "I highly doubt that," he snorted. "No offense to you and your charms but no one is that good."
"You only say that because no one's been that good before," protested Eomer good-naturedly. "I'll have you know that I happen to grow on people more than they would ever imagine."
Legolas' expression softened, becoming more serious but warmer too. "That you do," he agreed quietly.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Thranduil was waiting outside the doors of his cavern palace when the riding party he'd been waiting days for finally arrived. "Ada!" Legolas called out to him as he brought Arod to a halt.
That was all the invitation that the older elf needed. With a wide grin on his face he rushed forward. Once he was beside the horse Legolas leaned down enough to kiss his forehead before helping Caladel ease off into his grandfather's awaiting arms. "My sweet Caladel," said Thranduil happily, hugging him as tightly as he could without hurting him. Legolas burst out laughing as he too dismounted; as soon as his feet hit the ground he was included in the embrace. "My precious Legolas. Oh, welcome at last – welcome home!"
Eomer said nothing as he watched the three elves together, so in awe was he at how radiant Legolas looked when he was that happy and how content their son looked. For a moment he almost regretted that the two weren't going to be staying in Mirkwood permanently; but then he reminded himself that they were staying in Edoras because of Legolas' decisions, not his. Maybe one day Legolas and Caladel would have those same looks in Rohan; for now he was just content to stare.
He could have watched them like that forever and would have for at least several more minutes if his stomach hadn't growled quite loudly. "Excuse me," he said in embarrassment when the trio broke apart to look at him.
"No, it is I who should be asking for your pardon," said Thranduil cordially. Though he still wasn't sure what to make of the Man who'd professed to be his grandson's sire, being so openly rude as to ignore him for so long wasn't acceptable behavior. Besides, this Eomer had become important to the elven king's son and grandson and Thranduil didn't want to risk alienating either one of them so soon after getting them back in his life. "Welcome to Eryn Laesgalan, King Eomer."
"Thank you, and please call me Eomer," replied Eomer, sliding off of his horse and returning the elf's formal gesture of greeting. He silently thanked Legolas for teaching it to him, as Thranduil looked surprised and faintly impressed to see him do it. "It is a very lovely realm – I beg your pardon, but did you say 'Eryn Lasgalan'?"
"I never cared much for calling it 'Mirkwood'," said Thranduil merrily. "This forest was once the 'Greenwood.' 'Mirkwood' began as a derogatory term and it stuck as the name became increasingly apt. The Shadow is gone now and we've done much to heal the wounds of the realm; I refuse to call it Mirkwood any longer."
Legolas' cheeks and the tips of his ears were red. "Then call it 'Greenwood' again," he suggested hopefully. Thranduil simply smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead.
"What's wrong with calling it Eryn Lasgalan?" asked Eomer inquisitively. "I don't understand what it means but it sounds – right somehow. It's quite a beautiful name."
"You're hungry, are you not?" asked Legolas pointedly. Eomer sheepishly noted the change in subject and nodded dutifully, all while wondering at the elf's reaction. "Well, so am I. Caladel must be too, and Ada has a feast inside waiting for us to eat it. Let's not waste time now with idle chit-chat." He turned to the guard who'd traveled with them. "Thank you for accompanying us – it was wonderful to see you again! Will you see to the horses and make sure that the servants take care of our luggage?"
When the elf nodded Legolas gave him a quick nod of thanks, turned, and walked swiftly inside. Eomer and Thranduil (who was still carrying Caladel in his arms) had to rush a few steps to catch up. They walked together in silence for a few minutes before Thranduil spoke up. "It means the 'woods of greenleaves'," he said. Legolas shot him a withering look, to which the older elf winked at in response. "Translated into the Common Tongue Eryn Lasgalan means the 'woods of greenleaves'."
"That's like your name, Ada, a part of it meaning greenleaves and Legolas meaning greenleaf and all," pointed out Caladel, giggling when his father blushed some more and scowled.
"Really, Ada, couldn't you have called it something else?" asked Legolas, somewhat mortified. It seemed so inappropriate to name a realm after the prince who'd essentially abandoned it when it needed him most.
"I am the king," replied Thranduil blithely, "and I shall call my realm whatever I want to call it."
As he stated that right the four came upon the doors that led into the dining hall. The elven king opened them with a flourish and Legolas, Caladel, and Eomer gasped at what they saw on the elaborately decorated table. "Ada," breathed Legolas, staring at the long train of food that would have easily fed every person in Eryn Lasgalan twice over. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."
"I didn't," said Thranduil cheekily. "The kitchen staff did. Now eat up! Don't let their hard work and spectacular results go to waste!"
Caladel was the first one at the table, hurrying over as soon as his grandfather put him down. "Thank you," he said dutifully to Thranduil as the older elf and his parent sat around him. "Thank you!" he added in a shout toward what he assumed was the door to the kitchens before he started loading up his plate.
"Slow down, ion nin," scolded Legolas, though he supposed that he have been grateful that the boy managed to maintain some of his table manners. Perhaps there was some hobbit blood in him after all. Shaking his head at that absurd thought the prince reached for a nearby wine bottle. "There's more food – Ada!"
"It's a special occasion," protested Thranduil before his son could say anything else.
Eomer cleared his throat. "What is it?"
Legolas lost his incredulous expression as he gave the Man what could be considered a calculating look and poured Eomer a glass of what looked to be a wine of a deep red color. "This is a bottle of Ada's prized Dorwinion," he explained as he turned his attention – and the bottle – to his own glass. "It's the finest wine in all of Middle-earth and therefore not brought out of the cellar often."
"Well then, it was generous of your father to do so now," declared Eomer with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, for he didn't much care for wine. That quickly changed, however, once he took a sip; not only was it delicious but it was very strong too. Even with years of ale-filled celebrations under his belt the Man knew that he wouldn't be able to handle much more of it; he was sure that he couldn't drink more than one glass without becoming embarrassingly tipsy. "My goodness! Are all elven wines so…"
"Potent?" supplied Legolas mischievously. "No, none are as potent as the Dorwinion, but – well, let's just say that drinking the others has helped me build up more of a tolerance to this than you'll ever have."
"Indeed," agreed Eomer, examining the liquid in the glass with a somewhat shocked look on his face. "I guess that would explain how you were able to drink through over a barrel of ale without suffering anything more than tingling in the tips of your fingers."
Thranduil took a sip from his own glass. "Ale," he repeated thoughtfully. "I've heard of that before but I'm afraid that I'm not exactly sure what it is."
"It's water with a hint of alcohol in it," replied Legolas wryly, smirking at Eomer. "I had the pleasure of trying it one night during the War after a great victory. My friend Gimli challenged me to a drinking competition and ale was the beverage of choice. He didn't stand a chance – in fact, he ended up not standing at all."
"Legolas!" scolded Thranduil in a classic paternal tone. "Gimli is that dwarf, is he not? I'm shocked at you! The next thing you're going to tell me is, I don't know, that after you indulged him you took your braids out and danced on a table for everyone else's amusement."
"Oh, Ada, I couldn't dance on the table," said Legolas innocently. "There were two hobbits that beat me to it."
"And he never would have unbraided his hair," added Eomer. "I've never seen it down – he doesn't like to wear it that way."
The elf prince gave him a surprised look. "How did you know that?"
"You said so," Eomer reminded him; "at that breakfast in Minas Tirith right before my uncle's funeral procession."
"That was mention in passing over five years ago!" marveled Legolas with a shake of his head. "Really, Eomer, you remember the strangest things sometimes."
Thranduil was staring at the Man again in the familiar way: as if he could see right through him. Eomer was suddenly very uncomfortable; thankfully he was released from the scrutiny soon enough when the elf looked away again. "Well, there's more than just wine here," pointed out Thranduil brightly. "Eat up!"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
This was not a situation that Eomer wanted to be in. After lunch Caladel had begged to see Legolas' old bedchamber. Thranduil had urged the two off – leaving the Man alone in his company. Now he was studying Eomer closely and frowning at what he apparently saw there. "You are not Caladel's sire," he said.
"I will say that I am until the day that I die," responded Eomer.
"I have no doubt about that," said Thranduil in a knowing tone. "Legolas chose well when he asked you to take on that job. He might have been a little too anxious to keep the truth from me to consider what your intentions were when you claimed it, however."
"I love Caladel and Legolas – is a dear friend," said Eomer as calmly as he could. "My only intention to be there for them."
"You cannot fool me; you are in love with my son," declared Thranduil. "I've see how you look at him, and how you remember little things about him. If you wish to keep any respect that I have for you, you will not deny it."
Eomer looked him in the eyes. "I won't," he said. Despite everything it felt so good to not have to deny it! "I am in love with Legolas."
"He does not love you back," noted Thranduil. "So why are you torturing yourself so? Do you hope that he'll feel that he owes you something?"
"He owes me nothing," insisted Eomer vehemently. "My love for him is freely given and I will not push it on him. If he ever chooses to be with me I will rejoice but I will never force him into anything!"
"Now I know beyond a doubt that you are not Caladel's sire," said Thranduil, but he sounded more depressed than triumphant in his declaration. "I know my son; he would not leave everything behind if the only reason why he couldn't be with Caladel's sire was that he didn't love him. You would have asked him to marry you, he would have refused, and though I wouldn't have been too happy about the situation I would have welcomed them both with open arms. No, my grandson's real sire did something terrible that scared him off, made him feel like leaving was his only option. I understand why he doesn't want to tell me who it is: he fears that I'll do something rash if I ever find out who it is. That is fine; I am nothing if not patient. If it's that important to Legolas I will accept you as Caladel's sire – for now. But I swear to you now, Eomer, that I will never forget that there is a Man out there who needs to pay for what he did to my child."
To be continued…