Chapter 48: Green Leaf
Greenwood
Third Age 1242
The pain came over Caladhel like a wave, starting low before rising in intensity. She halted, gripping Thranduil's arm tighter where she stood. His hand came to rest on the small of her back and he steadied her as the latest contraction peaked and then subsided. When the pain passed, she lifted her gaze to Thranduil's worried face and smiled up at him.
"Celebrían made this look easy."
Thranduil rested his hand on Caladhel's stomach. He could feel their son moving within. The child was eager to be with them. "You have made it look easy, every day."
"Today will be more difficult than most."
"I am here with you," he assured her. "Whatever you need."
Thranduil kissed his wife's forehead and continued to aid her as she walked a circuit around their apartment. They were nearly to Caladhel's bedroom door when the healer called out to them.
"I am ready for you now," said Daerel.
Thranduil escorted his wife to the door. Beleth was flitting about, arranging the contents of the baskets Daerel's assistants delivered earlier that day. Daerel held out her hand to Caladhel. She and Thranduil aided the Queen to the bed where Daerel could examine her.
"Everything is proceeding as it should," said Daerel following her examination.
"How long?" Thranduil asked.
"It will be a few hours still."
"A few? Can't you be more precise?"
Thranduil's voice resonated impatience. It was a condition Daerel was accustomed to addressing. The healer caught Caladhel's eyes a moment and smiled before answering the King.
"I am afraid that is not how this works. The labor will proceed as Caladhel's body wills it. I can be no more precise than that."
Caladhel stroked the back of her husband's hand. He fretted over her care for months now, needlessly, of course. It was not that Thranduil distrusted Daerel's skill as a healer. She had long ago proved herself a worthy asset to Greenwood. The king, himself, had praised her talent more than once before Limrond's court.
"We rely on your wisdom in these matters," said Caladhel.
Daerel rose from her perch at the Queen's bedside, and to the King, she said, "I will see your child safely into this world."
"I know you will," he replied, "and I thank you for your service."
Daerel acknowledged his thanks with a smile. "I will return in an hour to check on her."
Daerel left Caladhel in her husband's care, but no sooner had she departed then Beleth came in to check on them. Thranduil was helping his wife to stand.
"How are you feeling?" Beleth asked.
"Good, under the circumstances. Daerel said it would be a few hours still."
"Would you like me to inform Galadriel and your cousin? They will want to attend you before the birth."
"Must they?" Thranduil asked, aggrieved.
Caladhel again stroked the back of her husband's hand to soothe him. "Please do," she said.
The Lady hurried off to collect Caladhel's kin, leaving Thranduil to help his wife complete one more circuit of the room before she pleaded his aid to her private balcony. Not ten minutes later Galadriel and Celebrían appeared, the latter chattering away. Thranduil felt altogether out of place amid their conversation. He slipped away into the parlor, unnoticed, or nearly so. Beleth was organizing a pile of gifts delivered by members of the court.
"Are you hungry?" Beleth asked. "I had your midday meal brought up. It is on your desk."
"How can you think of food at a time like this?"
"It is my duty as your aunt to think of things you do not." She took her nephew's arm and led him away down the hall to his meal. "A joyous day," Beleth said. "Is it not?"
"Indeed."
Beleth read tension in her nephew's voice. It shone, too, in his eyes, and in the lines of his face. "There is no need to be anxious. Your child will be with us soon. Caladhel will be glad for it, too. I recall those last few weeks carrying Brandil. I was more than ready to be parted from him!"
"I have no doubt all will proceed as it should, as it has with every other elven child who has come before."
"Then what is that look?" Beleth asked. "Are you upset Caladhel's kin have stolen her attention? She needs their comfort and experience now."
"It is not that…"
"What then?"
Thranduil sat heavily upon his chair. He eyed the tray of food Beleth had prepared for him. He took up the fork and prodded absently at a pile of roasted vegetables. "I do not know if I am ready for a child to come between us. I have tried so hard these last few months to prepare my mind for it, my heart…."
Beleth pulled the fork from her nephew's hand and settled in the chair beside him. "My dear nephew, I assure you, your concerns are misplaced. Love is not a well in danger of running dry. Brandil did not replace his father in my heart or lay a moat between us. He made our love stronger."
Thranduil wanted so much to believe her, but one thought, unassailable, continued to gnaw at his heart. "She will love a child more."
"She will love you more, both as she has in the past, and in different ways than before." Beleth saw the doubt in his eyes still, so she added, "Children grow, Thranduil. That is the heart of it. The love of a parent for a child is strong, but it, too, changes with time. One day you hold them close, the next you must step back and allow them freedom to live their lives. Your son will fill both night and day, for a time, but one day he will wish to seek out his own adventures. His heart will cleave to another. He might choose to leave Greenwood and his parents behind. But Caladhel will remain yours, always."
Beleth's wisdom was succor to Thranduil's soul. "Thank you," he said.
Beleth handed Thranduil back his fork and rose from her chair. "You will be a wonderful father, Thranduil. Caladhel does not doubt you – and nor do I."
Caladhel sank her nails into Thranduil's arm as she cried out for the last time. A moment later another cry pierced the air and Daerel laid the babe in his mother's arms. She leaned back to relax against Thranduil who sat now cradling them both.
"A son," Daerel declared.
Thranduil held his wife's trembling body close. He rested his hands upon hers as they cradled their son. Tears fell from her eyes and the room filled with her laughter. She traced their son's nose and cheek with her finger.
"Isn't he beautiful?"
Thranduil found himself at a loss for words. The last few hours had been agony, to witness Caladhel in such a state. And now, after it all, a miracle lay before him – complete with tiny feet and hands. He fought to draw breath, as his son did moments before.
"He is perfect, just as you imagined." Thranduil caressed his son's head with the tips of his fingers. The child stirred beneath his hand.
"Have you decided on a name?" Caladhel asked as she had a mere thousand times before.
They had argued long these many months on the subject of naming. Thranduil found the Noldorin tradition strange. Father-names and mother-names. He did not see why they should not both have a say in their son's birth name. But Caladhel wished to follow the traditions of the Noldor by naming their son later, and so it fell to Thranduil to give their son his first name. It was a great responsibility. One Thranduil would have preferred to share.
"Would you not rather us both name him?" he asked one last time.
"I will give him a name, once I know him better."
"As you wish."
"Well? What do we call him?"
"I would name him Legolas, for the spring, and also, for the hope he brings to our people."
"Legolas," she whispered, stoking her son's cheek with her finger.
"Do you like it?" Thranduil asked, hopeful his choice would be met with praise.
"You do have a talent for naming," said Caladhel, though her last words were caught by a yawn.
"No sleeping yet, my lady," Daerel chided, "we still have work to do." To the King, she said, "Why don't you and Lady Beleth bathe our little prince. Lady Galadriel and I will ready the queen for visitors."
Beleth appeared instantly at her niece's bedside, eager hands, outstretched. Caladhel kissed her son's head before allowing Beleth to take him.
"There you are, my sweet babe," Beleth cooed. "Let us get you cleaned up." She looked to Thranduil who eased himself out from his position behind his wife. Galadriel took his place. Thranduil leaned close and pressed a kiss to his wife's parched lips.
"We will return as soon as you are ready."
Thranduil left his wife in the care of her aunt and Daerel and sought Beleth out. She had a small bowl and towels already arranged in the parlor.
"Come take him, while I fetch the water," Beleth said.
She held his son out to him, but Thranduil was unsure. "Perhaps I should fetch the water."
Beleth, noting his hesitation, shook her head. "Do not be silly. Come hold him. It is easy. You will not fail at this."
Beleth handed him off carefully into Thranduil's arms. "Support his head. His neck is not strong enough yet to do so on his own."
"He is so small," Thranduil whispered in wonder.
Beleth shook her head. Her eyes alight with laughter. "I think your wife would disagree."
Thranduil guessed his aunt was right. He studied the tiny face as his aunt bustled about the room, preparing his son's bath. The child's eyes were closed. He had yet to open them, but Thranduil was certain of the color. He had seen them before, had he not? Was this not the child who called him Ada in that vision glimpsed in the water's depths? It was too soon to tell, perhaps, but Thranduil was eager to find out. It was a change, he knew, a strong and sudden turning. He wished in this moment more than anything to know his son, and the ellon he would become.
"I am ready," Beleth said, interrupting his thoughts.
Thranduil carried the child to the table where Beleth stood and there she instructed the King of Greewood on how to give his son a proper bath.
A small parade of well-wishers came to greet the Prince of Greenwood and congratulate their king and queen. Their stay was brief, but by the end of it Caladhel was so exhausted her eyes fluttered shut. Daerel shooed the last of the guests from the Queen's room. Only Thranduil remained behind with his wife.
"She must rest awhile before he wakes," Daerel told him.
Thranduil needed no further prompting. He turned to Caladhel, who lay abed with their son in her arms. He leaned down to kiss her. "Sleep now, my Indánna, I will watch over him while you rest." He lifted Legolas easily into his arms, and by the time he adjusted the babe's swaddling, his wife was asleep.
Thranduil took to wandering around their apartment with his son cradled against his chest. He passed the crib Daerel prepared for him, but the healer never bothered suggesting he lay Legolas down. She was wise enough to know her suggestion would be ignored. Daerel bustled about with Beleth at her heels. They chatted quietly, on what matters Thranduil could only guess. A time or two Beleth glanced his way. She beamed as she gazed upon them.
Thranduil headed down the hall to his own rooms for a bit of privacy, for he found himself possessed by a strong but utterly absurd urge to speak to his son. This despite the fact Legolas slept soundly and would not understand his words were he awake. Thranduil stepped out upon the great, open terrace. His gaze passed over the expanse of Greenwood Forest, surveying the whole of his kingdom.
"It is a great responsibility to be the son of a king," he whispered. "I know, for I was one. It would be easier to be a wood elf, to have the freedom to decide your own course. But that is not our fate." He shifted Legolas in his arms so that his son could see the forest below. The babe did not open his eyes, but Thranduil continued speaking. "This is ours, as far as the eye can see. We must lead them, and love them, and shield them from harm. I will teach you how. Your mother will, too. You will learn archery from her, and from me, the sword. And we will both teach you how to argue…"
A noise, the clearing of a throat, interrupted Thranduil's first lesson to his son. He turned to find Túven standing beyond the terrace door.
"Uncle."
Túven greeted his nephew and king with a nod. "Forgive my lateness. Many of your lords wished to toast the day. It would have been rude of me to dismiss their invitations. They send their blessings to you and your queen."
"I thank you for seeing to them."
Túven nodded again before he turned his gaze to the bundle in Thranduil's arms. He came to stand beside his nephew and looked down upon the tiny face. The child looked much like Thranduil with his pale blond hair.
"So fair," said Túven. "I imagined he would be dark, like his mother."
"Caladhel's mother had silver hair – like Celeborn."
"It may darken with time," said Túven.
Thranduil shook his head. He had seen his son much older. "No. It won't."
Túven made no effort to argue. Instead he reached out a hand and caressed his grandnephew's hair with the tips of his fingers. It was a gentle gesture, uncharacteristic of his uncle. Indeed, Thranduil could not recall the last time he saw Túven with a child.
"Would you like to hold him?" Thranduil asked and the question drew from Túven a more uncharacteristic smile.
"Very much so," he replied.
Thranduil handed his son off carefully to his uncle. Túven took Legolas in hand with all the confidence of an experienced father. He took a seat on a nearby bench. Thranduil joined him.
"There you are, my little Prince," Túven said, caressing the child's cheek. "Would that my son could be here to greet you."
That same thought had crossed Thranduil's mind, too, this day. "I missed him more than usual today," he said.
"It was the happiest day of my life – when I first held him in my arms. Only one other moment in time rivaled it."
"That being?"
"The day Beleth and I were wed."
Thranduil was not yet ready to rank the birth of his son and his marriage to Caladhel, but he could concede in his heart that no other moment in time compared to them.
"I wish Brandil were here to share this day with me," Thranduil confessed. "I wish I could tell him all that has passed."
"Perhaps I can do so in your stead."
"How so?" Thranduil asked.
Túven's gaze abandoned the child in his arms and came to rest on Thranduil's face. "Long ago you offered me the choice to cast aside my burdens and sail for the Undying Lands. The time has come. You no longer need to hold my hand. You can rule Greenwood without my aid. You have Caladhel. And soon you will have a son at your side."
Of all the times for Túven to heed his advice... "Why now, when I need your advice on how to be a father?"
"What more can I teach you in that regard? You have learned a little from each of us – from your father, Celeborn, Iauron, and me – both good and ill. Heed what wisdom is best and ignore the rest. Do that, and most often you will find yourself a good father. Sometimes you will fail. That cannot be helped. There is no other secret to share."
"If you are certain…"
"I am. I have grown old, weary of this world. I would find peace in Aman, if it exists, and perhaps, if the Valar are merciful, I will hold my son in my arms again."
"And Beleth?" Thranduil asked, for he could not imagine losing them both at once.
"Beleth will linger for a time, to help you with this one."
That, at least, was a small blessing. There was a time when Thranduil might have been happy to see his uncle go, but the announcement of Túven's imminent departure left him feeling sad. "I will miss your wisdom," said Thranduil, and he was surprised to find he meant it.
"I have had little wisdom to share these last few centuries. You are older now than your father was when he became king, wiser, as well."
Túven laid a kiss atop Legolas's head before handing him back to his father. "But if I was to offer one final piece of advice, it would be to cherish this day. You will find these next few years fly fast. He will be grown before you know it."
Túven rose from his seat and departed as silently as he came, leaving Thranduil alone with his son. The King's thoughts lingered long on his uncle's advice. He laid Legolas on his lap and marked every detail of his face. A life entrusted to his hands.
"He seems to think me capable. But what about you? Do you think I will be a good father?"
Legolas stirred at the sound of Thranduil's voice and blinked his eyes. They opened wide and stared up at him. Thranduil had seen those eyes before, bright and blue and shining with laughter. He had not forgotten them. Thranduil reached out to tickle his son beneath his chin, but Legolas had other plans. He grasped his father's finger with a tiny hand and held it fast, cooing and gurgling with delight.
Thranduil took that as his answer.
