Chapter 52: Hope and Love
Third Age 1277
(30 years later)

Caladhel corrected Legolas' aim with a light tap to his elbow. He adjusted a hair to the left and fired true, hitting his target dead center. Caladhel was more than pleased by her son's progress. He was keen with a bow, possessed of more innate talent than Caladhel at his age. He had a sharp eye and a steady hand. He would be a champion one day, she was certain of it, though Caladhel kept this assessment to herself. That day would come soon enough, and on that day, she would praise him.

Caladhel observed Legolas's attention was no longer on his target but had wandered across the field to where Aurel and his parents were sparring. The young ellon was fighting both at once, hand to hand, and doing a fair job at holding his ground. Caladhel smiled when Roewen knocked her eldest off balance and into the dirt. Aurel recovered quickly and aimed a return blow to the back of his mother's knees that very nearly landed. Roewen was prepared for the counter, of course, and avoided joining her son on the ground.

"Why can't I join Aurel at the border?" Legolas asked for what must have been the tenth time that spring.

"You know your father's law. You may apprentice at the border upon your fiftieth year. Aurel is of age."

"If I had been born in the First Age, I would be fighting Morgoth now!"

Caladhel sighed. She had known her son would not suffer the next score years without complaint. She was resigned to it, but Thranduil was less tolerant of his grumbling. "I know, and I would grieve for you, as I grieve for your father to know he witnessed such horrors at so tender an age."

"You could speak to father for me," said Legolas.

"I could speak to a mountain as well, but I could not make it move. Your father will not change the rules for you. You must wait, as the others do."

"I am better with a bow than Aurel, and I can match him with a blade half the time."

Her son was right. They both knew it, but that was not the point. "Maybe so," Caladhel conceded, "but there is more to the wisdom of the wood than bow and blade. Aurel has fifteen years on you in that regard."

Legolas' disappointment was written on his face. He knew he would not win the argument.

"Do not be in such a hurry to grow up. In a few years' time you will serve our people, and in few more you will lead them. And one day, perhaps, you will rule over all who dwell in this wood. That is your destiny, impatience will not hurry it along."

Caladhel placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He was nearly as tall as her now. He had more growing to do, though perhaps, not too much more.

"You still have more growing to do, in mind and body, though perhaps not much more of the latter. I apologize for that. I am not the tallest of my kin."

Legolas's gloomy expression faded some at his mother's comment. "Father said one need not be a giant to be fearsome."

"That is true enough. One need only to look to Roewen."

Legolas' gaze strayed across the field, alighting on Roewen, before returning to rest on his mother. "I think father meant you when he said it."

"Is that so?"

"He does not fear Roewen," said Legolas.

Caladhel thought her son's comment strange. "And you think he fears me?" she asked.

Whatever answer her son might have given was lost, for an unexpected guest drew his attention far afield.

"What is Galion doing at the training fields? I did not believe he knew where they were!"

"Manners, Legolas," Caladhel chided.

"I only meant that he hardly leaves the palace."

Galion arrived shortly thereafter and bowed to them both. "My queen, my prince."

"Galion. What brings you here today?"

"A messenger arrived from Imladris, my queen. I have brought you your letters." Galion drew two letters from his chest pocket and handed them to Caladhel.

"You need not have come out all this way," she said. "Unless the matter is urgent?"

"I cannot say for certain. The messenger was told to deliver the letters and return with your answer directly."

"I see. Did the King receive any message from Lord Elrond?"

"I delivered it first along with a letter for Lady Daerel."

"Thank you, Galion. Please see to the comfort of Lord Elrond's messenger while he waits."

"My queen." Galion bowed before returning with haste to Limrond.

Legolas noted that Galion had given his mother two letters. "Did Lady Arwen write to me?" he asked.

Caladhel eyed the seals on the scrolls, one belonged to Celebrían, the other to Elrond. "Not this time."

"Who is the second letter from?" Legolas asked, for he recognized Celebrían's seal, but not the other.

"It is from Lord Elrond."

Legolas was surprised. Had Galion not said a moment ago that Lord Elrond wrote to his father? "Why would Lord Elrond write separate letters to you and father?"

"Perhaps he wished to tell me something," said Caladhel.

"Something he does not wish father to know?"

"More likely, something he wants me to tell your father."

"Why not tell father, himself?"

Caladhel suspected Elrond had told Thranduil, but as in the past, chose to inform Caladhel in hope of enlisting her aid. "Your father takes some news better when it comes from me."

"See," said Legolas, "even Lord Elrond knows father is afraid of you."

Legolas grinned at his mother and his own clever observation, but Caladhel was more concerned than amused by her son's jest.

"Legolas, I do not think fear is the proper word."

Legolas was not deaf to the disapproval in his mother's voice. He had not intended to offend her. "What word would you choose?" he asked.

"I think I would choose love," said Caladhel.

"Love?" Legolas repeated the word in a tone that echoed his confusion.

"Yes," said Caladhel. "When you love someone very much, their opinion means much to you, as much your own, or more at times. You wish to see them content, to bring them joy and shield them from pain. Have you not felt this way before towards another?"

Legolas nodded, for certainly he had. "But father does not seem to worry for others in such a way. He only worries for you."

"He worries for you, as well," said Caladhel." Do you remember the day Aurel fell into the river?"

"Of course."

"I had to convince your father to see you."

"He thought I might fear his scars."

"He thought you too young, too innocent. He did not want to hurt you or cause you to doubt him."

"But you convinced him to see me."

"I did."

"How?"

"I reminded him of what he already knew in his heart, that your love for him was stronger than fear."

"And he believed you?"

"Yes. And not because he feared me, because he loved me."

Legolas considered the wisdom of his mother's words. They seemed right, or so he thought. He would have to consider them more deeply.

Caladhel could tell by her son's expression that he understood her or, at least, he was trying to. "I have to see to these letters." She turned her attention to the far field. Faentôr and Roewen were still practicing with their son. "I bet if you ask nicely, Roewen will knock you into the dirt a few times."

Legolas's attention returned to Aurel and his parents. He stood tall and straight, his expression determined. "I will best them all one day," Legolas declared.

But not today, of that they were both certain. "Not without practice, you won't," said his mother. "Go on."

Legolas kissed his mother on the cheek before heading off in search of a fight he would not win.


The knock on the door was as familiar as the dawn.

"Come," Thranduil called.

Beleth entered his study with a small tray of tea and fruit. It was not like his aunt to bring a peace offering without cause. He wondered what it meant.

"Good afternoon, Beleth."

"Good afternoon." She set the tray on his desk and peered down at the letter he was writing. "Have you written your response to Lord Elrond's message?"

"Not yet. It is on my list of tasks for the day."

"Good," Beleth said. "I will need for you to send word of me ahead."

"What?" Thranduil heard her well enough, and he knew what she meant, but a part of him could not believe it.

"It is time," said Beleth.

"No." It was all he managed to utter before it took him, the pain, a deep, sharp blow to his heart. The shock of it was enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he held them back, refused to let them fall.

Beleth was at his side in a moment and wrapped him in a warm embrace. She could not hold back her tears, as Thranduil did. It was not her want to leave him, to leave any of them, but it was not her choice alone.

"I remember the first time I held you in my arms," Beleth whispered. "You looked just like Brandil. And when I showed you to him, he declared you to be his little brother. Your mother laughed at that, and so did I. There was such joy in her heart. In mine, too."

"Can you not stay… a little while longer?"

"I wish I could," Beleth replied, "if only to see Legolas full grown. But each day becomes more difficult than the last. The sea, it calls to me. The Valar call to me. Túven. My son. I would know if the Noldor speak true about Mandos and the reborn. I would hold Brandil again, as I hold you now."

"Then you must go," said Thranduil. "I would have you see him again, as I long to."

"I will bring him word of you, if I see him again."

"You will," said Thranduil.

He sounded more certain than Beleth expected, than she felt in her heart. "You sound so sure. How is that?"

"Caladhel said we will see them again," Thranduil answered. "Her kin saw the dead reborn. I trust her trust in them."

This certainty lifted Beleth's heart and she hugged her nephew again. "I long to see my brother again, too, to tell him of the ellon and king you have become. He will be so proud of you."

Thranduil found it easy to hope for his aunt's joy. He found it harder to hope for himself, to imagine that his father waited even now for word of him.

"If he… if he has returned, will you give him something for me?"

"Of course," Beleth said.

"I have wished to write to him for a long time," said Thranduil, "but it seemed foolish before now."

Beleth laid her hand atop Thranduil's head as she had so many times when he was a boy. He had grown so much since the loss of his father, in mind and spirit, both. He was a different ellon from the one Oropher left behind, stronger than before, braver, too. She would tell Oropher so when she saw her brother again.

"It is not foolish to live in hope," Beleth assured him.

And with a kiss to his forehead she departed. There was a long journey ahead and preparations to make.


She found them in the King's chambers. Thranduil writing at his desk and Legolas seated on the balcony. By the look of concentration on her son's face, Caladhel was certain he worked on some puzzle his father had concocted to challenge his mind. He would stay up late into the night and on until morning to solve it. He refused to disappoint his father.

Caladhel went to Thranduil's side and upon her approach his eyes abandoned the letter beneath his hand. He greeted Caladhel with a smile, which she returned, but Thranduil's joy was fleeting. It faded from his eyes first. Caladhel watched it drain away. She knew why it went.

Caladhel reached out and caressed his face with her hand. "I spoke with Beleth," she said.

His stoic facade crumbled and fell away with a single tear. She drew him closer, cradled his head to her chest. He did not weep. She did not expect him to. It was not his way to allow pain to overcome him. He would throw it in the well, bury it along with the other agonies time had dealt him. He breathed through the pain and she soothed it with gentle fingers dancing lightly through the strands of his hair.

He spoke first, after a few minutes in her care.

"I am grateful for the time we had with her, for the time Legolas had."

Caladhel was grateful for Beleth as well, and had been from the first day they met. "Did you try to talk her out of it?"

Thranduil withdrew from her embrace, shaking his head as his did so. "No. She deserves to go in peace. Did you?"

"I wanted to," Caladhel admitted, "but no. We have delayed her long enough." She exhaled deeply, resigning herself to the loss. "I will travel with her to Imladris to see her off," Caladhel added. "Will you come with us?"

The pain Thranduil had struggled to suppress flashed momentarily in his eyes. "I think it better I fare her well from Limrond," he said.

Caladhel understood. The journey would only extend his suffering and he cared not to have others see weakness in him.

Caladhel nodded, her attention turning to their son. She lowered her voice to be sure he would not hear them. "I would like for Legolas to join us," said Caladhel. "He is impatient to be grown. Perhaps a little adventure will console him while he waits to join the warden ranks."

Thranduil was not at all certain that adventure was what his son required. A little patience would serve him better. "He has never traveled beyond Greenwood," Thranduil said, though Caladhel was well aware of this fact.

"The mountain pass is clear this time of year," she replied. "It will be an easy journey."

Thranduil knew that, as well. She had not said it to remind him, only to give him time to gather his thoughts. Thranduil did not worry for the journey. He worried to be parted from them, it would be the first time since Legolas was born that his wife and son would stray beyond his sight. It did not sit well with him, and Caladhel knew it.

"You will take a company with you," said Thranduil at last. "Iordor will command the escort."

"Is that not a bit much?" said Caladhel. She had traveled many times to Imladris and back without such numbers.

"I considered a battalion, but it might appear to some of our neighbors that we march for war. I would not wish to alarm them."

"How considerate of you," Caladhel replied.

The laughter in his wife's eyes sparked his own. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her gently on the mouth. "I learned well from you," he said.

"We will not be gone long," Caladhel assured him. "We will stay to farewell Beleth and for Elrond's council. We will return when it is done."

"Yes, the council. Elrond mentioned it. I do not see why it requires your presence. We have no dealings with the men of the north."

"Not at present, but there is no telling what the future holds. Regardless, I would have Greenwood hear firsthand the news from abroad, rather than learn of it from others."

"As you wish." Thranduil kissed his wife's cheek before she rose.

"I will tell Legolas now, if you are agreed."

Thranduil nodded his assent, for he feared that if he spoke he might refuse her. Caladhel abandoned him for Legolas' company. He greeted his mother with a smile reminiscent of Oropher's and Thranduil swore that Caladhel's own light at the sight of their son outshone the stars. Her love for Legolas was as he had once imagined - and feared - though no more the latter, and he knew his own heart would ache keenly at his son's absence, brief though it might be.

Thranduil returned his attention to the letter he had been composing to Elrond. He would now have to send word of his wife's visit, and his son's. He continued with his work, aware that his son leapt from his seat and whooped at his mother's announcement. Thranduil was glad for his son's excitement, but could not quite share in his joy.