Chapter 53: Before, Behind
Third Age 1277
Thranduil never said goodbye to his wife. Not in words. Caladhel learned long ago to read the message in his hands, the hunger of his kiss, his desperate need to hold her close. Caladhel lay with her head on his chest, her fingers dancing lightly across a long-faded scar, visible now only in her memory. Thranduil's hand came to rest on hers, halting its course. She lifted her head to find him watching her, a look in his eyes she could not name.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"I was thinking of Arwen," he said, after a moment's pause.
Caladhel crept forward until her lips were but a hair's breadth from his. "One might consider it inappropriate to think of your niece while we are so entwined."
Thranduil smiled coyly and traced the side of his wife's face with his fingers. He cradled her neck in his hands and drew her down to him for a kiss, long and lingering. It felt as if forever before they parted.
Thranduil twirled a strand of Caladhel's hair around his fingers. It enchanted him now, just as it had so many years before. "I was thinking our daughter would be as fair as Arwen," he whispered, "if, perhaps, silver-haired."
Caladhel was surprised by her husband's musing, for Thranduil had never before confessed of want for a daughter. "Our daughter?"
Thranduil caught the note of surprise in Caladhel's voice. "I thought you wanted a daughter."
"I do."
"So do I."
Caladhel grinned knowingly at her mate, for under her tutelage he had become a rather cleaver tactician. "Is this your way of ensuring I return home from Imladris with speed?"
"I have no idea what you mean," said Thranduil, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.
Legolas emptied his satchel and then repacked it a third time. He had told his mother he needed no assistance, but in truth, he could have used her aid in deciding what to bring to Imladris. He had never traveled so far from home. Legolas could have used his mother's advice, but if he was to prove his readiness to train as a warden, he could not beg assistance now with packing a bag.
"Are you ready?"
Legolas spun around at the sound of his father's voice. Thranduil stood a mere five steps behind him. Legolas had not heard him approach and cursed himself silently for his folly. Father and son had been playing this 'game' for some time now. It was part of Legolas' training as a warrior, to walk in silence and to sense the silent footsteps of others. In his distraction, Legolas had allowed his father to come within striking distance. Had he been an orc, Legolas would be dead now.
Thranduil did not bother to reprimand Legolas for his distraction, the expression on his son's face told him he already realized his mistake. It was a timely reminder to keep up his guard.
"Well?" Thranduil gestured to his son's saddle bags.
Legolas looked them over, as well as the items strewn across his bed that he had decided to leave behind. It had been a more difficult task then he expected. "Yes," Legolas decided. "I think so."
Thranduil could sense his son's unease but could not rightfully tell its cause. It was not like his son to be so distracted, nor so indecisive. "What is wrong?" he asked.
Legolas shook his head, avoiding his father's gaze. "Nothing."
It was also rare for Legolas to deny Thranduil an answer or avoid looking him in the eye. "If it is nothing, why do you look away?"
Legolas steeled himself before raising his eyes to meet his father's. He did not wish to be looked upon as a child, but he could not rightfully deny the unease he felt now, so close to their parting. "I wish you were coming with us," he admitted.
Thranduil did, too. He set a hand upon the young ellon's shoulder and drew him into a hug. "I am always with you, no matter how far you stray from home."
Legolas returned his father's embrace, an act that Thranduil noted was becoming rarer with time. Thranduil understood his son's reason for putting distance between them, for it had once been his own. Legolas did not want to be seen as a child, any more than Thranduil had, and yet, at times, the distance between father and son pained them both. Thranduil held his son until the youth decided to break away. When he did Thranduil clasped his son's shoulder firm.
"It is good for you and your mother to visit her kin without me from time to time, lest they think I hold you captive in my wood."
An expression of puzzlement formed on Legolas' face. "Why would they think that?"
Thranduil shook his head, "Never mind." He released his son and turned back towards the door where he had left a package before he entered. "I came to give you something before you depart."
Thranduil did not bestow gifts upon Legolas lightly or often. Thus, every gift he gave held for Legolas great meaning. He did his best to hide his eagerness while his father retrieved the package and set it on his bed.
"Go on, open it."
Legolas carefully untied the straps and folded back the leather wrapping. He might have cheered had he not been working so hard to remain calm.
"They are… they are beautiful."
"Beautiful, and deadly." Thranduil drew one of the knives. The handle was inlaid with gold, as ornate as the blade and its scabbard.
"You said I was not yet ready for long knives," said Legolas. "You said I needed to master the sword first."
"I know what I said," Thranduil replied.
"You think I am ready?" Legolas could not help to contain his delight.
"I would not give them to you otherwise." Thranduil handed the knife to his son, who studied its weight and balance in each hand. "Though I do hope you never have need to use them."
Legolas shifted his attention from the knife to his father. "Why not?"
Thranduil exhaled deeply. "I would have you live a life of peace, unlike the one I have known."
Legolas nodded his understanding.
Thranduil held out his hand to reclaim the blade from his son and returned it to its home. "But, if peace is not possible, I would see you well armed."
"Thank you, father," said Legolas, with all sincerity in his heart.
"We will begin your training upon your return. Now, I expect you to heed your mother and to obey Iordor's commands as if they were my own."
"I will."
"Good. Let us find your mother."
Caladhel shook her head in exasperation. How many times this century would she and Roewen have this argument? "I told you a hundred times, your presence is not necessary. You have Aithron to tend to and Aurel will be headed to the border with his father in a few weeks. You should be here to see them off."
Roewen, for her part, stood her ground. "Faentôr can manage Aurel without me and Aithron will be visiting with Iauron. He is already excited for the trip. I think him fated to be a farmer like his grandfather for how much he loves the earth."
"That would be a blessing to Iauron, no doubt." Caladhel's frown deepened, reaching the corners of her eyes. "Regardless, I do not think it right to take you away from your sons. They are still very young."
"They are old enough and they have more kin around them than they can count. I would not leave them if I thought otherwise."
"You are a stubborn creature," Caladhel lamented.
"I am the Queen's protector," Roewen countered, "and I have no wish to relinquish the title to anyone."
Caladhel groaned audibly, but finally relented. "As you wish." She cast her sights to where their sons stood saying their farewells.
Legolas was both nervous and excited for his friend, and Aurel felt likewise for his prince.
"I wish I was going with you," said Aurel.
"No, you don't," Aithron countered. The boy stood a head shorter than his brother but was not afraid to goad him.
"No, you don't," Legolas agreed. "You have been waiting for your first tour of the border for ages."
"Not ages," said Aurel, "but a good forty years."
"I hope you do well," said Legolas, "given the circumstance."
"What circumstance?" Aurel asked, not quite knowing what his friend meant.
Legolas looked to Aithron, and Aithron to him. They both grinned wildly. "I understand Tinnuves will apprentice with you," said Legolas.
"Tinuuuuves," Aithron echoed.
Aurel blushed a crimson that nearly matched his hair. He glared at his little brother.
"You will not be distracted by her presence, will you?" Legolas asked.
"Our fathers will not allow us to be distracted," Aurel said, not quite answering the question.
"I hope not, for your sake," Legolas said, "or you might be sent back to train with me for a few more years."
"I can think of worse fates."
"Prince Legolas, come now!" Iordor called from amid the gathered crowd. "We are almost ready to depart."
Both Aurel and Aithron threw their arms around Legolas in a great group hug, before shoving him playfully towards Iordor. "Good journey!" the brothers called in unison.
Caladhel was nearly to Beleth's side when Thranduil appeared in her path. He took up her hands and kissed them.
"Will you miss me?" Caladhel asked, playfully.
"I already miss you."
A burst of sudden laughter drew both their gazes to Beleth, who laughed and cried in turn while faring well old friends.
"She laughs as if a weight has lifted from her heart," said Caladhel. "I had not noticed the burden of time upon her until now."
"Yes," said Thranduil. "She is ready."
"I wonder what it feels like."
"What what feels like?"
"The call of the sea. My mother spoke of it only once before she and my father departed. She found it difficult to put into words."
"I have heard it described as a longing," said Thranduil. "As if all of one's thoughts and desires were bent to the distant shore. Beleth described it as such."
"But why should it come upon some so swiftly and to others not at all?"
Thranduil had no answer, but he did have one thought. "Perhaps their work in Middle-earth is done."
Thranduil forced his gaze away from his aunt. They had said their goodbyes, and Thranduil feared if he dwelled on their parting now, he would not be able to contain his grief. He turned his attention to his son. Iordor was assisting Legolas with his saddle bags.
"I gave him the knives," said Thranduil.
"Are you certain he is ready?"
"He is ready. He is readier than I was at his age."
Caladhel was saddened to hear it. "He is not yet full grown."
"No. Not yet, but he will be soon enough."
"I wish he could remain a child forever," Caladhel admitted.
Thranduil drew his wife into his arms and set a kiss atop her head. "So do I."
He held her thus until Iordor and Legolas arrived, mounted, at their side. Caladhel's deer followed behind them.
"My queen, we are ready to depart," said Iordor.
Thranduil nodded, but before he freed his wife, he kissed her one more time. "I hate being parted," he whispered.
"But you love welcoming me home," she countered.
"That I do."
Thranduil helped his wife onto the deer's back, but before allowing them to depart, he caught his son's eye. "Remember what I said."
"Yes, father."
Thranduil nodded to his son, and to Iordor, he said, "Good journey."
Iordor acknowledged his king's blessing with a bow, before urging his mount forward. The assembled courtiers waved farewell to their friends. Thranduil forced himself to leave before the last rider disappeared into the forest. He returned to his study where he had placed a tall stack of missives and captain's reports. They would not distract him, but they would give him something to do while he waited for his family's return.
It was delightful weather for a journey. For an entire week the skies were clear and bright, the winds cool, and the waters of the Anduin calm enough that the horses could be ferried across without much anxiety. As they neared the roots of the mountains the trees grew denser and a few clouds rolled in. A light summer rain greeted the company early one morning, but the elves and horses paid it no mind.
Caladhel had spent the early part of their journey observing Daerel. After all these years together, watching the elleth grow into a capable and respected healer, the Queen believed she knew Daerel well. But there was something changed about her since Elrond's messenger arrived. Daerel had grown quiet and anxious. Her mother had noticed the same, but both she and Caladhel had chosen not to pry. Now, as they drew nearer to Imladris, Daerel's unease seemed only to grow. At last, Caladhel's love for the young lady moved her to voice her concern.
Caladhel drew her horse up alongside Daerel, greeting her with a smile. They rode side by side in silence for a while before Caladhel spoke. "You have grown quiet these past few weeks. Will you tell me what troubles you?"
"Forgive me, my queen. I am fine."
Daerel's attempt at deflection was wasted on Caladhel, for she was not so easily deceived. "I have spoken that line before, more than once. You will forgive me if I believe you to be other than fine."
Daerel offered no answer. She avoided meeting her queen's eyes.
Caladhel decided to change direction, for despite Daerel's former youthful chattiness, the healer before her was quite capable of silence if she chose. "Istuion will be gladdened to see his finest pupil again," Caladhel offered.
At this, Daerel nodded. "I do look forward to seeing him. He has developed a new technique for treating lame horses. He says it may work equally well on our deer."
"Is that why you take this journey with us?" Caladhel knew quite well that a new healing technique was not the cause of Daerel's strange mood, nor was it likely the reason she had joined their party. Daerel rarely performed healing work outside the palace, and never, so far as Caladhel knew, on animals. Despite this knowledge, she would allow Daerel to offer an alternative explanation.
Daerel's gaze flitted briefly to her queen, before moving away again. She was silent for a long time, until the weight of her thoughts became unbearable.
"Elladan wishes to return with me to Limrond to meet my kin. He knows they care not to travel afar."
Caladhel was not entirely surprised to hear it. Despite her initial hope that the two young elves would be no more than friends, it had not escaped Caladhel's notice that a deeper bond had formed between them over time.
"Do your kin know of him?" Caladhel asked, for she had never spoken of the young Lord of Imladris with Daerel's parents.
"My mother knows, for I have spoken of him often enough, but my father and the rest… I do not know if they will approve."
Caladhel understood all too well Daerel's anxiety, not only from the tense first interactions between Thranduil and her uncle, but her memories of Celeborn's resistance to Elrond as his daughter's suiter. She turned her thoughts to Daerel's parents, a lord and lady she had come to know well. They had their prejudices, as so many elves do, but those feelings had been tempered with time by the many unions of Sindar and Silvan elves. Elladan was of a different lineage, true, but Caladhel was confident Daerel's kin would accept him, given time.
"It took many years for my uncle to agree to Elrond and Celebrían's union. But if your love is strong, and you are determined, I believe your family will come around. You will have my support, and Thranduil's, too, so long as you promise the King you will join Elladan in Imladris, and not the other way around." The last Caladhel added only partially in jest. Despite her husband's regular annoyance with Elrond's sons, he bore them no ill will.
The tension in Daerel's frame was eased some by her queen's reassurances. Her burden, now lightened, offered freedom to her joy. A light sparked in her eyes, brightening her countenance measurably. "I think I loved him since the first day we... woah!"
Daerel pulled up on her horse's reins and Caladhel did the same. The procession had slowed unexpectedly and the riders before them came to a halt. Caladhel stood up in her saddle, curious as to why Lord Iordor had altered their pace. She spied Iordor at the front of the company with Legolas riding at his side. Before Caladhel could call to her captain and ask why they had stopped, Iordor lashed out. He struck Legolas from the side, throwing the youth from his horse.
Legolas had never before traveled beyond the borders of Greenwood. He had to content himself these last thirty odd years to learn of other lands through books and letters. He wrote regularly to his grand aunt and uncle in Lórien and to his cousin Arwen, who had told him much about her valley home. The journey, therefore, was an excitement of its own, but Legolas found himself even more elated that he was permitted to ride beside Iordor. He rode at the front as the Prince of Greenwood, not as an equal to his father's captain, to be sure, but no longer as a child.
"I understand your father gifted you a set of knives before we departed."
Iordor knew the prince was eager to progress to close quarter weapons training. Iordor, himself, had thought Legolas capable of the transition years ago, but Thranduil demanded greater skill from his son than he did from other youth.
"I will begin my training when we return."
"That is good news," said Iordor. "You will do well with the knives if you practice as diligently as you have with bow and sword." Iordor said this as a matter of course. He was not concerned for his prince's dedication. He knew no matter how hard Thranduil pushed his son, Legolas would push himself harder.
"I will," Legolas confirmed.
"And I will hold you to it."
They rode in silence for another mile before Legolas endeavored to speak again. "Iordor, can I ask you something?"
"You may ask me anything, though I cannot promise you an answer."
"Do you think my grandfather and cousin Brandil have been reborn?"
Iordor was surprised Legolas would come to him with such a question. "Why do you ask me this?"
"Mother is certain that they have been – or will be. Father wants to believe. I wondered what you believe."
Iordor considered his prince's question carefully before offering him an answer. "Our people never traveled into the West," he said. "We have only the tales of the Noldor as proof of our fate after we die."
"So, you do not believe them?" Legolas pressed.
"It is difficult to put faith in someone who has once lied to you. Would you not agree?"
Legolas nodded but was not entirely satisfied with Iordor's answer. "But if the Valar have the power to shape the world, and heal those injured in Middle-earth, surely they have the power to remake us."
Iordor had always considered Legolas to be insightful. The prince's argument was one that those considered wise had made before. Iordor had never been convinced one way or the other. He found it easier to leave that mystery upon the distant shore. Iordor cast his gaze on Legolas, and found the youth studying his countenance close.
"Perhaps," Iordor answered, and after, offered him a smile in apology. "I know that was not the answer you desired."
"Not exactly."
"I am afraid none of us can know for sure, until we reach Valinor."
Legolas agreed, and yet he could not but hope. "I hope for Aunt Beleth's sake that the stories are true."
"So do I."
At that moment a large drop of water landed on Legolas' eyelid. Legolas wiped it away and glanced up furtively at the forest canopy. The trees had grown denser, shielding the elves and horses from the immediate force of the rain, but the water that dripped from the leaves fell at random in large drops. Legolas quite preferred the steadiness of a light rain to the uneven tempo of the water through the trees. He wondered if Iordor felt the same. Legolas would have asked him, but at the same moment Iordor lifted his arm and signaled their horses to halt.
Legolas watched Iordor, who sat silent and still upon his horse. The ellon held his breath and closed his eyes. Legolas quieted himself as well in an attempt to hear what the old elf listened for. Legolas heard nothing, saw nothing. "Iordor, what is…"
No sooner had he spoken then Iordor lashed out in a forceful blow, striking his chest so hard it knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him hurtling to the ground. Legolas had no chance to question the why of it before his body struck the ground, his head meeting with moss and stone.
Caladhel was paralyzed in that moment. All she could do was watch her son fall. She cried out in wordless horror as a rain of arrows descended on them all. Her horse reared, throwing her to the ground. Caladhel lay momentarily dazed. She moved again only at the echo of screams and the sight of Daerel's body falling from her horse. Caladhel managed to avoid the stomping of hooves to reach the elleth's side, but there was nothing she could do. The light which had only moments before sparked in those clever blue eyes, now stared empty into the horizon. Three arrows had made it so.
In the midst of the madness a second rain of arrows fell. It was only by luck that none struck her. Despite the chaos, nothing mattered more to Caladhel than reaching her son. She had only her sword now, for her bow had been lost to the stomping feet of her horse. She moved quickly, sword drawn, cutting two arrows out of the air before they felled her. She made to where her son lay now, surrounded by warriors with raised shields. Iordor was with him, and Roewen by his side, examining the head wound.
"Legolas!" Caladhel fell to her knees beside him.
"I knocked him from his horse before the first volley fell," said Iordor. "He was not expecting it." To Roewen he said, "We need to get them out of here," referring to their queen and prince.
"How?" Roewen asked. "They hold every direction."
No sooner had Roewen said this than a roar sounded from all sides. A clash of swords sounded the third wave of the attack.
Iordor pointed to two horses abandoned nearby. "They are lightly armored. Ride fast for the open field. It is only a few miles back. The orcs will not leave the shelter of the trees. We will create an opening."
"It is suicide to run," said Caladhel.
"It is suicide to remain," Iordor countered. "You must go. Quickly."
Iordor shouted a command and the warriors shielding the wounded prince and queen advanced to encircle the horses. Legolas's unconscious form was laid across one saddle.
Caladhel clamped her hand down on Roewen's arm. The warden had never looked more uncertain than she did now. "Take my son," Caladhel said. "Do not stop. Not for anything. Do you understand me?"
"My queen…"
"Do you understand!" Caladhel shouted. She would brook no argument this time. Not where her son was concerned.
Roewen's gaze flitted from Caladhel to Legolas and back again. She said nothing, for she could not form the words to speak, she merely nodded.
"Go!" Iordor shouted.
At his command, Roewen leapt onto the horse bearing Legolas while Caladhel mounted the second.
The horses charged forward, riding down orcs and elves alike. They broke through the enemy line, but from somewhere in the canopy more arrows were loosed to stop the riders' escape. Only two landed, one hit the queen's horse on its hindquarters, the other struck Caladhel in the side. Both horse and elleth screamed in pain and when the horse bucked Caladhel was thrown once more to the forest floor.
Roewen heard her queen cry out but she did not look back. She held Legolas tight and rode hard, certain in the knowledge that death lay before her, and behind.
