Chapter 6: Signs of the Times (Legolas & Co)
(~***~)
Lossrilleth, dressed in the ugly dress and scarf, basket of rocks on her back, trudged her way down the streets towards the sound of voices. As she had hoped hardly anyone looked at her or spoke to her. One drunk looking man looked her over hazily until she faked a wet, hacking cough and he stumbled away in disgust.
There seemed to be a market square or social area in the neighborhood's center, for men still walked about even though it was evening. She could hear drunken laughter. She avoided the square, opting for side streets from which she could watch people, observing their clothing and customs and listening to them speak. She could understand a few words of what they said, but the language had clearly evolved from the Westron tongue used six hundred years ago.
The men wore loose trousers that ended below the knee, with stockings covering the rest of their legs. Rough cotton shirts were tucked in and covered by jackets with loose sleeves. Most of the men wore soft round hats with a brim. There were no women on the streets, so she hurried back towards the forest, finding a new route to cover more ground. She managed to peek silently into a few windows to see women in plain cotton gowns and aprons, corsets laced up the front, and white caps that covered their hair. It didn't seem like a rich part of town.
"Early Renaissance, possibly?" she thought to herself, trying to identify a potential time equivalency. She slipped back to her companions in the forest, leaving the basket where she found it.
"Legolas, calm yourself," she said as soon as she arrived, feeling his nerves. "I had no trouble. I cannot get away with much though, there were no women about. I had to look like I was rushing home from some late errand."
She ducked behind a bush and put her own clothing back on with relief. She would leave the dress on a branch somewhere where it might look like it blew off the line.
"Really, I am well," she said again, unsettled by the distress on his face. He was an experienced warrior; she hadn't thought a little reconnaissance would scare him. She took note for herself that he greatly feared losing her here. He placed his arm around her waist, gripping her a little tightly for her comfort, but she let it be, instead sending him reassurance.
"Well?" asked Thranduil.
"I think I was about on track when I guessed at what might be happening here now. I dare not say more than that. But as you can see, the earth is now teeming with humans. We will need to find a new plan. We will never find her if we cannot speak to people or at least be in places where we can listen in on what they say – as best we can. The language has changed. I can only pick out words here and there," Lossrilleth thought out loud. "I think we will to have to find someone we can trust to speak with."
Thranduil shook his head at Lossrilleth. "That was brave, iell nin, but reckless."
The elves retreated as deep into the small forest as they could for there was nothing else they could do that night. Thranduil took first watch, prowling through the trees, trying to give the younger elves some space. His son had clearly been unhappy with his lady's daring actions earlier, with good reason. Thranduil would let them work it out for themselves.
Legolas pulled Lossrilleth under a bushy pine tree. In the small space created by the low-hanging boughs, he cornered her with an intensity that surprised her.
"You have to take better care," he hissed into her ear. "I cannot lose you too. It is too much. Who would be left to find our poor daughter if I were to fade?"
He sounded angry with her at first, then fearful. Then he seemed to pivot again, pulling her into him and kissing her cheek, then her neck. Lossrilleth felt like she had emotional whiplash. She hadn't thought about how he would react to her impulsive scouting venture, but she would not have guessed this.
"Legolas, stop!" she whispered. She took his face in her hands and made him look at her. "This is not like you," she said, concerned. He buried his face in her hair, taking in the familiar scent of lilacs that always followed her.
"You should have seen my father when my mother died…" he said so quietly she could barely hear him though he spoke right into her ear. Legolas could remember Thranduil so despondent he would not eat or drink until his very skin had begun to look translucent. The little boy, already in pain from being separated from his mother, believed his father would also die and leave him all alone.
Watching Lossrilleth dart off into the human town and not being able to follow had unearthed a terror in himself that Legolas had not known he carried. The last time he had been in Middle Earth he had belonged to himself, and he could defend himself well. All the people he cared for had also been competent fighters. It had been a dark time; they had all had to learn. But now he shared his soul with his wife and his daughter – one of whom he was already torn from. The fear he felt for them in this violent place took his breath away. He wanted to wrap them both in soft blankets and ship them back to the Blessed Lands. For the first time he wondered if the fёa bonds elves shared might be a curse rather than a gift, as he had always been told.
"You know I have to contribute to this venture, do you not?" she reasoned. "The information I have about humans is the best thing I have to offer towards our success." Legolas breathed into her neck, refusing to let her go.
"That is true, but, please, do not go alone like that again. Middle Earth is very dangerous. You have barely any experience with weapons, and even that was only on practice grounds. Let me protect you – I know how and you do not."
Lossrilleth sighed. At times the cost of the intense unions elves shared was a codependence she still struggled with, but she'd made her choice and there was no going back now.
"Shh, alright I promise I will not rush off alone like that again. I am here with you," she said in a soothing voice, stroking his back. "We are together, as we should be. Calm yourself, meleth nin."
"Be with me," he spoke low in her ear, surprising her more still. She had been sure he was still angry with her. He wanted to rekindle the good feelings of their connection. It felt like a chain around him right now and he wanted to feel the joy of her again.
"Your father will hear us!" she whispered back, feeling embarrassed.
"Elves hear each other making love all the time, as you well know," Legolas replied with nonchalance. It was true – elves tended to live in close quarters and had exceptional hearing. The sounds of sex were a part of their lives. The polite thing to do was ignore it.
"But he is your father," Lossrilleth hissed, turning red-faced imagining speaking with the regal elf in the morning.
"We all lived in the same halls for years. He has already heard us. Besides, who do you think ellyn talk to about such things with? We must learn from someone," Legolas replied mischievously. "He already knows everything – really."
(Thranduil smirked into the darkness, indeed catching many of their whispers as he kept an eye out for any threats. His son's poor wife groaned in dismay at that last comment. Apparently, she hadn't realized how open elf-men tended to be about these things among their closest kin. When he heard her speak again, she had laughter in her voice. She would get over it.)
Legolas had started pulling on old memories to cultivate feelings in their shared connection – attraction, joy, playfulness, affection – all while he ran his hands over her.
"Ah, right," Lossrilleth thought, remembering the lesson they'd just learned after the timeline debacle. She named for herself in her own terms what her natural-born elven spouse had identified intuitively: it was time for some critical maintenance. They could pull each other down as easily as they could lift each other up, so sometimes they had to make an active choice to raise the energy to keep themselves well, in whatever way they chose.
"Alright, alright! At least stop pawing at me you animal. Were you not a prince the last time you were in these lands? So much for your courtly manners…" she joked. Playfulness she could get on board with.
Legolas replied smoothly, "I would gladly show you the royal treatment, my lady…" Her surprised, high-pitched gasp and a giggle followed.
(Thranduil shook his head, feeling amused at their antics. He thought it seemed like a good enough way to resolve an argument. He had his own fёa bonds. He knew they needed tending sometimes. The old king focused his attention on the other sounds of the forest, letting the couple take their moment of joy and relief to bolster their strength for the difficult task ahead. He started reciting the Song of Beren and Luthien in his head to think about something else.)
When they were finished, Legolas and Lossrilleth lay together under the tree. Lossrilleth could feel pine needles tangled in her hair. Her clothes were tossed about them, probably covered in sticky pitch. Things might be awkward with Thranduil in the morning. She didn't care. Where their shared fёa sense had been buzzing with the stress, pain, and anxiety of the difficult situation they were in, there was now affection, trust, and mutual appreciation. She could see easily that it was a much more stable base for them to journey onward and find their daughter. She tried not to let the empty place where Angharad's spirit should have been with theirs overwhelm her again…
Legolas had been letting his mind rest, feeling relief and his love for his spouse lull him into the light rest elves need from time to time. But then Lossrilleth sat bolt upright, hitting her head on a spray of needles.
"Legolas!" she cried out, only just remembering to keep her voice down. "She's there, can you feel it? It's so faint, but she's there!" Had she been so caught up in her own anxiety and grief that she had missed it before?
Legolas's heart pounded and he let his attention run over the gaping hole where their daughter should have been. And there it was: in his soul he could hear the faintest whisper of their Angharad.
Both elves tried to send Angharad their love for her. They hoped that she could feel it and know that they were coming for her.
(~***~)
Lossrilleth had them skirting around the edge of the town to observe people by the time the first fingers of light were reaching over the horizon. That teasing whisper of her daughter had her on edge again. Having to straighten out her clothes and comb pine needles out of her hair in front of her father-in-law hadn't helped matters. He was acting normal, but she couldn't help but feel awkward.
Legolas and Thranduil had both talked her into trying to rest after they'd felt Angharad again, especially since neither would accept her taking a turn as watch on her own. (Another annoyance.) By the time the sky was getting lighter, she was ready to move on. She didn't want to sit around for hours. They had work to do.
With Lossrilleth running ahead and darting back repeatedly, carefully staying within eyesight, Legolas and Thranduil chanced a quiet conversation.
"You seem to have worked things out," Thranduil said dryly. "Feeling better?"
Legolas looked at his father sideways. "You do not want to know, I think."
Thranduil grimaced. "Honestly, I do not. Is all well, though? Can you still feel Angharad?"
Legolas nodded sadly. "Only the faintest flicker. Not enough to find her. And we," he indicated himself and Lossrilleth, "rebalance only for her to get unsettled again. It is still better than before, but she is so impatient sometimes. I do not know how else to make her understand how dangerous it can be here. You and I both know this could take years with as little direction as we have. One hour quicker is meaningless," he said to his father, frustration in his voice once again.
Thranduil nodded but reminded him, "Your wife is still very young, Legolas. How old is she now, three hundred?"
"Not even that," Legolas muttered. He was approaching four thousand years of age, and his father was significantly more ancient. Such an age difference between spouses was unusual, but not unheard of. Most elves married young, soon after coming of age at one hundred years old. He had been the odd one in this case for waiting so long. He hadn't found his traumatic youth or the forest full of deadly spiders and dark enchantments where he lived very romantic at the time; nor the wars to prevent the end of the world that followed. Even though they were both adults by elven standards, it did present certain challenges to have such different levels of life experience.
"We will have to be patient with her and guide her while she learns. I will help you keep her safe despite herself," Thranduil told his son.
To his surprise Legolas found he was glad to have his father's company. Legolas knew he could rely on his father if danger arose. And the more this journey progressed, the more he saw how much his father had changed since he was last in Middle Earth. It made him feel hopeful.
Suddenly Lossrilleth was racing back towards them saying, "Listen! Have I gone mad, or is that not Quenya?"
The elves gathered hidden in the brush behind a tall stone building, where they observed a woman in long white robes that covered her body from head to toe. She was praying, indeed, in Quenya before a small stone shrine in a garden.
Átaremma i ëa han ëa,
na aire esselya,
aranielya na tuluva,
na kare indómelya
cemende tambe Erumande.
Ámen anta síra ilaurëa massamma,
ar ámen apsene úcaremmar
sív' emme apsenet tien i úcarer emmen.
Álame tulya úsahtienna
mal áme etelehta ulcullo.
Násië. [1]
Lossrilleth was elated. "She is a nun! She has to be a nun! I told you we are going to have to find someone to speak with to get some help – it is her! We can talk to her in a language we understand, and she is one of the Faithful!"
Legolas gripped her by the arm, afraid she would run up to the woman in her excitement. "It is a good sign," he agreed. "It is possible we could speak to her. I think we should watch this place for the next day at least before approaching her," he said quietly.
"Agreed," Thranduil added. "We do not actually know anything about this woman or this place. What is a nun?"
Lossrilleth wanted to groan or roll her eyes or hit something in frustration. These Eldar and their cursed infinite diligence. Instead, she leaned against Legolas, searching for his calm to still herself. Legolas felt her searching for patience from him, which he gladly shared. Bless her for trying at least. It felt like she had an anthill under her skin.
"They are holy women," she said. "They dedicate their lives to prayer and helping others. They take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience to the One and concentrate their lives on healing people and serving the poor. She is perfect."
Thranduil said calmly, "I never knew of such women in these lands in days past. She may look like something you know, but we cannot say that is truly what she is. Legolas is right. Let us watch over this place today and see what we can discover. I would like to see if there are any defenses or guards before we go running in to speak to strange humans. We are supposed to stay hidden, are we not, iell nin?"
Lossrilleth watched the woman retreat inside the building with utter frustration. She wanted to get moving already. She wanted her daughter. "Alright. Should we spread out and watch from separate places, then? We might see different things," she suggested.
"You stay with me," Legolas said quickly, not letting up his grip on her arm. Lossrilleth let out a sharp breath, preparing to speak her mind about all this babying she was getting.
Thranduil cut her off before she could, deciding that the young elf needed a correction. He'd trained enough new soldiers to know.
"Lossrilleth, do not be difficult. You have not been wielding that knife you carry a year yet. We do not know that these woods are not filled with roaming orcs, goblins, evil men, or any other in a lengthy list of foul creatures that have long lived in these lands. This journey will be long – prepare yourself. It will be longer still if you act like a willful adolescent and do not accept the limitations of your own experience."
Legolas was frankly glad for the intervention, trusting the one who had trained him to teach his wife as well.
Lossrilleth's eyes swam with angry tears, but she blinked them away. She could see the wisdom of his words, although she hated it. She gritted her teeth and nodded. She turned to Legolas, saying, "Well, where are we setting up then?"
Thranduil was pleased with this reaction. She had promise with proper guidance. Now they just had break her of the absurd overconfidence she seemed to have before she managed to get hurt.
(~***~)
Foot Notes:
[2] Tolkien's own translation of the Lord's Prayer in Quenya – how cool! See: /wiki/Átaremma
