Notes:
This is a translation of part #13 of one of my longest finished German fanfiction series ( .de/s/5de01c330000161f18c4301e/1/Tales-Untold-SHADOW-OF-THE-DAY-13-). I am not a native speaker and apologize for any mistakes. The "Tales Untold"-series focuses much on Aragorn, Legolas and their respective relationships, but there's lots of other important plot lines coming into play, one of the biggest revolving around Glorfindel and Erestor.
The series combines the book verse with some circumstances from the movieverse, it ignores all three of the Hobbit movies though (I wrote most of this series before those movies even were a thing). It's slightly non-compliant in places but I'm always trying to keep close to canon.
"Shadow of the day" is set in the winter of T.A. 3020, about a year and a half after the War of the Ring.
Comments are more than welcome. I'm thirsting for them like so many others.
WHAT HAPPENED SO FAR:
Shortly before the fall of Gondolin, Glorfindel had visions about his wife and their unborn child dying. He sent her and his newborn son Thondrar away to keep them safe. A few millennia later, Glorfindel's wife died in an attack in their exile. Thondrar blamed Glorfindel but joined him in Imladris anyway. They told only very few people about being related though.
Since shortly before the War of the Ring, Legolas was courting a young healer elf from Lórien named Tarisilya. They'd been in love for a thousand years already. Due to Thranduil's aversion to Galadriel and her people, the relationship was a secret. After the Battle of Helm's Deep, Legolas was assaulted by two Dunlendings. A protective wall that Tarisilya's healing abilities built in his mind helped him to keep on functioning.
During the war, Tarisilya's family sailed west which left her with bad depression. After the Battle of the Black Gate, Aragorn healed both her from almost withering away and Arwen from a bad injury. They all traveled to Imladris where Arwen's family should further heal her.
After marrying Legolas in Imladris, Tarisilya became pregnant but lost the baby in a battle. That tragedy and the crumbling shields in Legolas' mind had him spiral into a circle of anger, blind hate, and self-hate and -doubts.
In Aragorn's absence, a group of enemies named Stewardaides - led by a former friend of Faramir - had formed in Gondor who rather wanted to see Faramir rule Gondor. They kidnapped and tortured Arwen.
Elrond sent Erestor to Minas Tirith to help Aragorn. Thondrar came to live in the elf settlement in Ithilien that Legolas and other elves had built as Legolas' second in command.
While the Stewardaides attacked the elf settlement, Aragorn and Arwen were also attacked in the Citadel. Aragorn was barely healed by Tarisilya while Thondrar lost use of his right arm. Chased by the Stewardaides into the Dead Marshes, one elf died there, three more were killed in Mordor. Legolas' demand that the Stewardaides taken prisoner should be killed and his public oath of revenge caused a deep rift between Aragorn and him.
Erestor started spying on the enemies, which forced him to attack Tarisilya and Arwen.
Elrond sent Glorfindel to Minas Tirith, too, to help. Tarisilya left Minas Tirith with him and got Legolas' father to ride to Gondor to help.
Shortly after Arwen had got pregnant, Aragorn and she were taken prisoner by the Stewardaides. Legolas' people found out that Faramir was being manipulated by poison and attacked Emyn Arnen to try and take the Stewardaides presumably residing there prisoner. With Faramir distrusting the elves, not least due to his poisoning, the attack failed. While most elves fled, Legolas, Thranduil, Tauriel, and her husband were imprisoned. The Stewardaides left Legolas in a life-threatening state while Faramir left to try and find the King.
Glorfindel meanwhile met Langhour (Aragorn's substitute with the Dúnedain) and Erestor. While Langhour went to try and free the royal couple, Glorfindel brought Erestor to Ithilien. After Faramir had a bad accident, Mithrandir found him and freed him from the poison. Faramir immediately set the elves in Emyn Arnen free and took the Stewardaides there prisoner. Legolas denounced his revenge and swore fealty to Aragorn to start to heal their friendship. Barhit fled to try and take revenge on Legolas by harming Tarisilya.
When Glorfindel, Erestor, and Langhour tried to stop Barhit, Erestor was killed by the enemy who was in turn killed by Glorfindel. Glorfindel took Tarisilya to Minas Tirith where she finally reconciled with Legolas. Glorfindel and Thondrar, finally reconciled, said goodbye in Imladris before Glorfindel left for Aman.
Another Stewardaides poison attack left Arwen in a bad condition. A few weeks later, the birth of her baby started early and with complications.
In the end, everything had suddenly happened so fast that an army of healers had been completely overwhelmed from one second to another.
This must be what it had felt like when the famous Battle of the Black Gate had ended the War of the Ring. If you'd survived it and had been confronted with unexpected victory, you'd be standing there on that battlefield, littered with heavily wounded people, completely lost at first. Filled with joy about the victory, sure, but at the same time with the terrible certainty that many other courageous warriors would die in the next few hours. This morning, Tarisilya could begin to imagine what it must have been like for the Companions back then. Nothing showed you your limits as bluntly as a lossy triumph.
When the Queen of Gondor and Arnor had gone into labor far too early, the healers of Minas Tirith had already had to brace themselves for probably not dealing with a new life at the end of this long winter night but with two lost ones instead. An expectation growing with every passing hour.
The baby had taken a lot of time. Every contraction had robbed Arwen, who hadn't been particularly strong, to begin with, of more energy. And Aragorn's wife had unfortunately no longer been able to rely on an elf's special healing factor after she'd made her final decision against immortality in the war, wherefore her body wasn't functioning like a Firstborn's anymore in many regards.
Tarisilya could no longer feel her face muscles from how often she had forced herself to smile at her friend tonight, whenever it had once more been just the comparatively small pain that had made Arwen scream out, not the far worse one that would mean release in the end. She'd already forgotten what kind of comforting words she'd told Arwen. No matter if it had been a mechanical phrase that had long lost any meaning or some of those half-sung sentences in Sindarin that elvish healers were being taught early on, to support patients mentally … None of that had been any more effective than the mannish healers' herbal teas.
Tarisilya had never felt so clueless and damned to watch on top of it, by her own promise to her husband to not ask too much of herself than her own pregnancy allowed. And Ioreth had been very clear very soon about Tarisilya going easy on her own strength reserves.
At least her occasional cautious reassurance that the baby was doing fine and that Arwen just had to keep on holding on, seemed to have helped her friend because that was what she'd done.
Only when the first red rays of light had crept over the Pelennor Fields outside, announcing the new day, things had suddenly gone head over heels, so quickly that Ioreth hadn't even been able to give her instructions quickly enough anymore. Another gush of blood, another scream that had lacked every volume though this time …
And now, a silence so frightening that everyone's nerves were tense enough to burst once more.
After sitting motionless by Arwen's bedside the whole time, Tarisilya jumped up all the faster now, running to Ioreth who was standing in front of Aragorn's bed while the others paused, almost rooted to the spot.
The elderly healer who was holding a far too small, blood-smeared bundle in her trembling hands, who was usually looking so neat with her hair in a tight bun, her grey strands now hanging in her face wildly and clotted red, was more upset than Tarisilya had ever seen her. Not even back then when they had together fought for Aragorn's life in the Houses of Healing after another attack of the King's enemies.
This time, it was unlikely that they could work the same miracle. No scream, not even a choked gasp came from that tiny being with the unnatural grey skin color that had been torn from their familiar surroundings so suddenly that it could apparently not survive – at this sight, it wasn't only Ioreth, completely at her end for a moment.
Maybe it was the quiet voice of a mother to be in her that had Tarisilya react instinctively, that made her order Ioreth sharply to continue. Or the experience she had on the others thanks to the many centuries of her life, albeit not exactly in this field. Or the stubbornness that had never allowed her to give up on a patient, even if it had been hopeless. It just couldn't be …
With the cord hastily cut, the child was put down on the spot it seemed to be missing so much right now – its mother's body. An encouraging slap to its narrow, translucent back … Then a gasp of relief went through the rows of a dozen white-clad figures in the room.
"A boy, Your Majesty … And he's breathing."
"Thank you …"
Just two hardly audibly syllables on Arwen's lips before the healers suddenly started to shout across each other again.
"Your Majesty?"
"What is it? What is happening to you?"
Being the one who had helped far more mothers give birth than the other healers and who had also had a couple of children herself, Ioreth was the first to understand and to get new cloths from the already very small supply on the dresser. She bent over the Queen again, with her eyes wide.
"It's not over yet."
Which had immeasurable chaos break loose in the room once more.
But Tarisilya was no longer part of it now. Ioreth had given the child to her immediately; taking care of them was her only job right now.
"You're giving us quite a scare, sweetheart." She looked down in worry at the being on her arm that still was hardly moving and had still not opened its eyes even once. After trying to get the baby's circulation going by pouring cold and hot water on its chest in turn, she had to take a break to not accidentally do more harm than help.
The boy was just far too small. It was an unreal sight, these tiny arms, and fingers … While he was alive, the battle was far from won. Given how weak the child was, it was uncertain if they could even make it through the next few hours.
Tarisilya turned on her chair a little so that Arwen would at least be able to see her baby when she managed to turn her head every now and then. She forced herself to block out the voices all around, even the gloomy whispers that the Queen wouldn't make it either, and her friend's next set of screams.
There was no way she could help Arwen right now, no matter how much she wanted it. The Queen's body was damaged too badly.
If Tarisilya had tried fighting that with her powers, it would have harmed her unborn indeed. Instead, she was doing what Arwen asked her to, unbridled panic filling her tear-stained deep blue eyes. If you were forced to make the choice between more than one life, someone telling you what to do made it easier. There would be enough time for Tarisilya's bad conscience to chew on her later.
Carefully putting her hand on the child's far too weakly rising and falling chest, she murmured to them the same words she'd already helped their mother with earlier, before Ioreth had slowed Tarisilya down, and summoned all her knowledge, every skill in the art of healing she had ever learned.
Several endless feeling minutes passed before that unnatural silence suddenly arose again.
The fear of what she might be about to see brought Tarisilya close to tears. Only when Arwen's handmaiden Ranír left the room and Ioreth snarled at one of the others that they should take care of the Queen, she raised her head as if in slow motion.
Her workmate was just hurrying to the corner again that the most important utensils were waiting in. It was her turn to splash a few handfuls of cold water on another bundle on her arm that Tarisilya couldn't make out in detail yet. Chances had just been dramatically lowered. Now they would need all the help they could get to be able to take care of all the patients.
And tackling what might be the most difficult job tonight, they finally had to tell the one most concerned by all this.
The door was being yanked open before Tarisilya had finished the thought. Deathly pale, Aragorn stared at the bed. Seeing their own partner like this couldn't even leave someone cold who'd been working as a healer for many decades himself.
At least they'd an additional helper by their side now. If this wasn't supposed to end badly, they would have to combine all their strength.
Arwen wasn't moving.
The first thing that his mind, still caught in deep shock, whispered to Aragorn was that there was far too much blood. There was no way, anyone could survive something like that, was there?
After being on the watch for so long, without any rest, his legs threatened to give out for a moment. He stumbled to the bed, dropping onto it heavily, next to his wife, while no less than three healers simultaneously tried to treat the worst traces the birth had left on her body that had become so vulnerable.
He should have looked after the baby, made sure how they were doing, but Tarisilya was being there for them right now, and there were few people he trusted as much as Legolas' wife. No matter how much he wanted to hold his child in his arms, he had to take care of Arwen first. She just couldn't die … But in these first few terrible moments, there wasn't even the smallest spark of hope he couldn't find inside of him.
Arwen had always been quite pale but right now, every color had left her face. Her sweat-stained, jet-black hair was a stark contrast to that. Even her beautiful lips had a whitish color.
Aragorn reached out a trembling hand to touch her cheek … He couldn't. Once he would feel how cold her skin had become, he definitely wouldn't be able to fool himself anymore. Until then, he could believe that these beloved huge eyes would soon flash at him again …
But if that would not be the case, it would be easier to at least accept it right away and not succumb to illusions any longer, just to face reality even more merciless then. He could hardly bring himself to tidy her hair. A dangerous sense of relief filled him when his fingertips grazed her forehead. She still was warm …
Very tenderly, he wiped away a tear crust, knowing that his wife would have hated it, how helpless, how weak she was looking right now, and blinked to clear his own vision.
Was that really how it was supposed to end? Had there just gone their very personal eternity that was so short by elven standards anyway? Was this what Arwen had given up soon being allowed to go to Aman for, by her father's and her brothers' side?
Memories of what little time they'd only always had been able to spend with each other at the end of the day, flashed incoherently in his mind, marred by so many partings. Arwen's nickname on his lips turned into a choked sob.
He hadn't been with her; that was the worst. Because of a stupid tradition that he hated the most himself no less. He covered her lips with his, trembling again when he felt how shallow her breathing was going only, hardly noticeable in fact. And such a weak throbbing only under his fingertips on her wrist …
Still. She was alive. The last spark hadn't died out yet.
Without her body's former healing factor, such a high blood loss was actually a death sentence for sure, but Aragorn clung to the hope that he could somehow save his wife.
The rest of the healers watched the scene gloomily, not daring to address him. When Aragorn raised his head all of a sudden to eye them in irritation, one after the other, they startled.
"Get started!" His voice was lacking all of his usual patience, cautiousness, and warmth on this terrible morning. It wasn't a pleading request, it was an angry order. "We need to help her!"
There was even more hustle in the room immediately. Though there was probably no one in here who believed, they could actually achieve anything, everyone tried their best now.
Only Ioreth remained in her corner between a bunch of bloody cloths and empty bowls with ointments and potions, turning to Aragorn only now. She hesitated visibly but a hardly noticeable movement on her arms made her pull herself together. "Your Majesty? What are the names for the boy and the girl?"
Aragorn didn't answer right away; the fear still had too big of a hold on him, and now, complete mental overload was added to it because he suddenly understood that Ranír hadn't just possibly got confused with her too quickly gasped words earlier, but that he had indeed heard her right.
No matter how many bad things had happened in the last few months and last night, too: Fate also seemed to have something else, something entirely unbelievable in store for Arwen and him. Something that they hadn't ever even considered, even though not only Arwen's father – Aragorn's foster father – had used to be a twin himself, but Lord Elrond's wife had also given birth to two baby boys at once.
The shadow of a cautious smile curled on Ioreth's narrow lips when she saw the growing understanding, the wonder on Aragorn's face. "Your wife hinted at the two of you already having names last night?"
This time, Aragorn looked harder and longer at the almost lifeless bundle in Tarisilya's arms, and then at the one Ioreth held. He tried to get up and to get to one of the two healers but his body didn't obey right away. All that was raining down on him right now was not only paralyzing his mind. "A boy was supposed to be called Eldarion …"
Everything in him screamed to do something for Arwen immediately, but Ioreth's revelation had had him freeze. Focusing on values trained for decades and deeply rooted beliefs, he managed to bring enough order to the chaos of his mind to remember one of the most important duties of a father. No matter how all of this had happened, the newborn needed names, immediately.
"Eldarion," he repeated quietly when Tarisilya questioningly held out the boy to him whom, due to the many blankets wrapped around his body, Aragorn couldn't make out much of.
"Ilya …"
"Yes. They're fighting, Aragorn. Both of them. All of them. And they'll have to do so for a while. I'll do what I can" Tarisilya turned a bit more towards him so that he could take a better look at the little one.
The she-elf's husband had now come to stand her, who didn't look any less shaken than Tarisilya. After the long night of watch, Legolas, too, was paler than usual. A hint of unhealthy shadows was under his eyes. While his hand rested on Tarisilya's shoulder, it seemed, he was more holding on to her than supporting her.
When Ioreth gave the girl to Tarisilya for a first treatment to wash the boy, Aragorn finally got his body to function again. He leaned slightly forward and pulled the thick white fabric aside.
The girl was so fragile … Aragorn hardly dared to touch his own daughter. The baby was breathing far too weakly as well. When he touched their cheek, they opened their eyes only for a moment.
But that was already enough to leave Aragorn trembling so badly that he'd almost slipped from the edge of the bed. The eyes he'd just stared into were neither his own grey ones that Eldarion had nor Arwen's. In the case of this baby, the genes of his own mother had come through that had actually been little dominant so far; they had her dark iris.
Noticing how blindsided he still was, Tarisilya spared Aragorn getting up; instead, she sat down next to him. She had to continue caring for the baby with the healing touch of her hands but now he could at least take a closer look. "Gilraen, right? I remember her portrait in Lord Elrond's library. But she has Arwen's lips."
Aragorn couldn't do anything but nod weakly. When he finally got out a word, it was the only name fit for such a small miracle. "Minuial."
He could only hope that the little one would be just as tough and stubborn as both his mother and his wife, because the girl was even smaller than her brother and not moving the slightest bit, unlike Eldarion did at least every now and then.
Aragorn was just too aware that he didn't even want to hear the answer, but he had to know at least how the most capable healer here judged the situation. "Do you think they'll make it, Ilya?"
His friend pressed her lips together in grief; it was visibly hard for her to say the words. "The next hours will be crucial. I won't give up until the end, you know that. But it's possible, they won't even see the next sunrise."
Aragorn nodded without any surprise, a jerky, harsh movement. As if on strings, he got up, got a blanket from a chair by the fireplace that the fire had warmed a little, and wrapped Eldarion in the additional fabric. He shuddered when he took his baby in his arms for the first time and not with emotion. Eldarion's skin was much too cold, just like Minuial's. That was the first thing, Aragorn had to change.
His eyes went back and forth between his daughter, his son, and Arwen again and again. While he was no longer damned to wait now, he still felt unbelievably helpless.
"This is no environment for babies." Tarisilya watched the King silently for a few seconds, then stepped up to him carefully. "It's too loud in here, Aragorn. The little ones need rest. If you want to stay with Arwen, we'll take care of the kids."
She took a brief look at Legolas to get his obligatory approval and was confronted with unexpected distance in his tight expression for the second time since yesterday.
Though he nodded immediately, his ocean blue eyes looked empty.
Today, she could no longer take his fear for her into consideration, and she didn't want to talk to him about it in front of Aragorn either. With this attitude though, she couldn't give a newborn to Legolas either, or they might as well just put the babies down in the snow outside.
"Ranír can warm Eldarion just as well as you, Aragorn. Right now, there's not much more we can do anyway."
"No." Aragorn instinctively pressed his son a little closer to him, visibly reluctant to give up this first nearness that might not exist for long.
His eyes roamed Arwen's body for a moment, shivers visibly crept over his neck. "Arwen can't stay here in this bed where her own blood is still soaking the fabric. We'll take them all to Arwen's chambers. I want the children to stay with her, at least for what little time they might only have with her." His own words had him startle as if he'd been hit with a sword, but Aragorn usually wasn't someone lying to himself. Staying realistic was something that he had without a doubt had to learn early in his long time as a military leader, though it had probably never hurt as much as today.
"Ilya, wait a minute." Outside in the living room, Legolas pulled Tarisilya aside for a moment, while Ranír went ahead already to prepare everything; the fireplace in particular needed to be turned on quickly. Legolas had noticed Tarisilya's convulsion towards him of course.
"Not now." She nuzzled against his hand on her cheek and placed a kiss on it, to signal him that she wasn't angry with him.
After all, she knew exactly where her husband's occasional lack of emotional intuition came from that often had him prioritize wrong so badly. The reason for it resided in Eryn Lasgalen and had only just become a part of their family life in a somewhat normal relation a few months ago. Millennia of coldness and misunderstandings couldn't be healed in such a short time. And especially not in a few minutes.
"Why don't you try and sleep for a while? I'll let you know immediately if something changes, alright? But since I can't help Arwen already, it's the children who need me right now. That was your wish, remember? Let me be there for the little ones at least."
She saw his objection coming and dismissed it before Legolas had even opened his mouth. "I know. I'll take care of myself, elwen, I promise. Do you really think I would get our baby into danger, with another one on my arm that has hardly enough strength to breathe? Our little one is fine." She carefully took one hand off Miniual's body and put Legolas' right hand on her belly, holding him tight so that he could feel the child starting to stir, now that the long night was over. "If there's something you want to do for me, bring me a little bite so that the two of us will keep our strength."
"But you need rest, too, Ilya, if you really want to make a difference. Retire at least for an hour. I'll stay with her until you're back."
Legolas didn't let go of her when she tried to back away in irritation. "I mean it. The night has taken a toll on you; it shows."
"This wasn't the first birth I've seen. I'm alright, really. If I can't keep my eyes open, I'll lay down for a while, really." For the umpteenth time this night, Tarisilya tried to smile. This time it looked more honest than expected.
Though it had been burdening, witnessing all that: The child on her arm made up for a lot of that fear of what might be in store for herself soon. No pain could ever be big enough to darken the joy of such a miracle. Realizing that gave her the necessary strength to keep on fighting for no one having to give their life because of such a wonderful event of all things.
"She's enchanting, isn't she?" She raised her arm a little so that Legolas could take a better look at the girl. "Do you keep wondering too what our little one will look like?"
"Every day, Ilya." Instead of the smile she'd hoped for, his expression only darkened further. "And every time I do, the fear grows that I might never know. Have you considered for even a second what might happen if they don't make it and you'll have to be there?"
Tarisilya shivered suddenly. A weak memory brushed across her mind; her eyes grazed the living room corner that Arwen's dog had fled to.
Cowering, rattled by all the loud foreign voices, the black and white dog waited for someone to take care of him. Fain had always despised Legolas; he promptly growled towards him now, too. The dog wouldn't even be here now if it'd been for her husband, Aragorn had told her so at some point. At first, Legolas had wanted to leave Fain behind in the wilderness of North Ithilien back then, thinking that a whelp, closer to death than life, couldn't survive, could never grow into an animal just as proud and strong as its mother had been whose murder had hit Legolas very deeply. There was actually no way, Fain could know that, but there was still hostility between them.
Neither Tarisilya nor Legolas had ever really learned how to handle loss, but Legolas was the one hurting others again and again entirely unintentionally when he tried. In this regard, though he was almost thrice as old as her, sometimes, he still needed a lot of help. Otherwise, all without any poison assassinations, her own birth also might end in a disaster if it didn't go smoothly.
"Please, elwen, rest." She gave him a quick kiss and stepped back before she could be plunged into new fear. They would talk about this, even if she had to tie him to a chair this time, so that he would listen to her, but not right now. "I understand you, I just don't need you here right now."
"What you need is sleep, silence, and a walk in the fresh air so that you can think clearly again," Legolas replied mercilessly. "I can't force you to do anything and I won't. Never again. Please just keep in mind that you might be fighting a lost battle. Disappointment can be a very heavy blow, Ilya."
"I've lost patients before, Legolas. If it does happen again, the little ones will at least not be alone then, seeing as their mother can't be with them already. But we're not quite there yet." She wrapped her arms tighter around the child as if she could protect it from these pessimistic words.
Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Miniual's skin did already feel warmer than before. Her breathing also seemed to be steadier. The first baths and Tarisilya's words had helped. Minuial needed some healing tea, a cloth soaked in Athelas stock on her chest, and most importantly the wet nurse that the healers had fortunately been foresighted enough to notify long before the birth already.
And someone's unwavering belief in her survival. She wouldn't find that in this room. "How did you make it through the war with so little faith in life, elwen?"
"I always had something I could believe in." Legolas approached her again before she could step entirely out of reach and tenderly touched her cheek to leave no doubt about what he meant.
His hand started to tremble when he touched Miniual's little face next, he pulled it back immediately. "Then I had to find you in the camp of Cair Andros, on the brink of death." Even now, almost two years later, the memory still darkened Legolas' eyes and left deep lines of worry around them. "At this moment, it was as if I was an elfling again, helpless, alone, at her bed …" When he realized, what he was talking about there, he paused immediately.
"I didn't think you were going to stay with me. It took the innocent soul of a Hobbit first, and Aragorn's strength, to help me look forward. I don't want to have to deal with the same awful fear for our little one, or for you again. Forgive me for being a little more worried than necessary about you two."
She was tempted to ask but right now, he didn't want to and wouldn't talk about it. The implications were enough to send cold shivers down her spine and understand him even better. It was indeed better, for him, too, if he didn't stay with the children. "That won't happen, I promise."
Tarisilya was relieved when Ranír came back to report that everything was prepared which also interrupted the conversation. It hurt too much how useless certain well-meant words could sound sometimes.
