XXVI
At last
There were people talking, lots of people, but all of the seemed to be standing very far away. Legolas could not make out any words. He wanted to open his eyes and see who they were, but his eyelids were too heavy - and then it was as though he drifted away, back into a dark sleep.
But he did not dream again, and when he woke a second time he didn't feel as though a lot of time had passed - though enough for it to be quiet, and for daylight to colour the inside of his eyelids red. He lay still for a while, too comfortable to move. He was warm, and he felt like he had not been warm for a very long time. At present, he could not quite remember why.
Then, because sleep did not come and fetch him right away, Legolas tried again to open his eyes - and looked, blinking, at the ceiling, which was streaked with sunlight through the branches of a tree outside the window.
He turned his head to the side. He didn't recognise the room, and that worried him for a moment, but then he saw that he was not alone. Tinuhen slept in a chair beside his bed, slumped over the armrest. He looked very tired, and his hair was messier than Legolas had thought Tinuhen's hair could even become. One of his hands rested on the bed, not very far from Legolas' own hand.
Should he wake him? Legolas wasn't sure Tinuhen would like that. Besides, he was very tired too.
But he longed to be close to someone, and though he did not manage to move his body, he could move his hand a little, until it touched Tinuhen's. It felt better that way.
When he woke the third time, he felt ever so much better, and Tinuhen was gone. Instead, sitting in the armchair with his long nose deep in a book and his staff leaning against the wall, was Gandalf.
"My dear, dear boy!" Gandalf put the book aside and looked younger and happier than Legolas could remember him. Even his bushy eyebrows looked happy. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine", Legolas said automatically - but Gandalf always knew when you were lying. "Well... maybe not entirely fine. I'm - that is - " He screwed up his face, and then he understood why it was so hard to pinpoint where he wasn't fine. That was because his whole body hurt - though dully, like something that is nearly but not quite healed. "I will be fine though. Won't I?"
Gandalf smiled, but he nodded in a way that told Legolas his question wasn't unfounded. "You will."
"And... what happened?"
"What do you remember?"
"I - I remember most things", Legolas said, frowning again. "About the Council and Echail and - and Tilwine and Scead... but I don't understand everything. Is Echail alright?"
"He is."
"He tried to save my life."
"I know he did." Gandalf smiled again. "It was bravely done, don't you think?"
"Yes. I do. And..." Legolas pushed himself up on his elbows, and Gandalf hurried to adjust the pillow behind his back so that he could sit up instead of lying down. Now he had a better view over his room - it wasn't the room in the guest quarters that he had slept in, but one that looked a lot more like Elladan's room in the healing ward. When he looked at his hands, there were cuts and bruises almost everywhere the bandages didn't cover, and he had bandages on his shoulder too that he could feel under the linen shirt. He didn't pull up his sleeves to see how far up the bandages went. There were some things he didn't need to know right way.
"Where's everyone else?"
Gandalf chuckled. "Well, where to start - the gondorians are probably in Gondor, while the Lake-men..."
"Gandalf."
"Yes, yes. Let me see - your Greenwood friends are safe and sound here in Rivendell. So is Echail, and Radagast is still here. Arahad is also here, but not all of the rangers I think you know. Hm -"
"The twins."
"Are quite fine - though they were mightily upset when you were gone."
It sounded as though there was more to it than that - but it also sounded as though Gandalf would not say it. "And Tinuhen? I woke up and he was here, but he was sleeping."
The wizard nodded. "Your brother has been with you a lot, but Elrond managed to persuade him that he should take a bath. Even elves do not go through caves without becoming dirty. He was reluctant to leave, poor boy - he is devastated for what happened to you, and blames himself, of course."
"Are you sure? That doesn't sound like Tinuhen."
"Tinuhen has been very caring", said Gandalf softly. "He has always been, Legolas, but he did not know it himself. I think you will find him a bit changed, for the better."
Legolas bit his lip. It was hard to believe. But he remembered - vaguely - Tinuhen finding him between those stones below the cliff and lifting him into his arms... He tried to remember what happened next, but all that came to mind was Tilwine bending over him with the dagger in his hand, and Legolas didn't want to think of that.
Still, he must know -
"Where are Tilwine and Scead?"
Gandalf sighed, and looked out the window. An apple tree grew outside it, and the snow on its branches gleamed in the afternoon sun.
"There are", the wizard said, "many things that you must learn in due time, Legolas. You have been sleeping for a long time, and you have been very badly injured. I do not want to burden you with all that has happened just yet. Do you understand?"
"I do, but - "
"Scead and Tilwine cannot harm you", Gandalf said. "Glorfindel and the twins and many other elves went after them, but they did not catch them. They are far away though, and will not come back. Is that enough - for now?"
It wasn't. Legolas didn't want to know if they were far away, he wanted to know if they would be alright. But he did not ask. It would, like Gandalf said, show eventually.
He let his head sink into the pillow and pulled his left leg up - the other wouldn't move, and he didn't try to force it. A kestrel called outside the window. He recognised it.
"I had this dream", he said.
"A dream?"
"There was a door, and a man... in a cloak." This memory was unclear, and Legolas had to think hard to remember. "And there was a big room behind the door. Or a hall. There were people in it, or... shapes."
Gandalf leaned closer.
"I wanted to go inside but he - the man in the cloak - he told me I could not come that way. So I turned back."
"I see", said Gandalf slowly. "Well, young one, I think - I think you shall not have to worry about that dream returning. You are here now, and that is what matters. Speaking of which, there are some others - well, there are of course many others who want to meet you. But Tinuhen will come once he's done washing himself, and there are two certain elves I promised to tell as soon as you were awake. Are you -"
"Wait. There's something more. There was - there was another dream. I'm not sure if it was a dream, though."
"Then what was it?"
Legolas bit his lip. Then he told Gandalf about the dead grasses and the pools with lights beside them, and the armour and weapons scattered about. He told him how he'd found father kneeling in the grass, and father had wanted him to go back - but then there was that loud sound like metal gears turning, and the gates opened, and there was darkness, and then... then there was fire.
Legolas was sure Gandalf would say he had made it all up, but the wizard nodded.
"It was a dream, of sorts", he said. "But it was not your dream. It was your fathers. He was trapped in it, and you with him."
"How?"
"I am afraid not even that Wise can answer that with certainty", Gandalf said. "You were very ill - you had hit your head hard when you fell, and you were cold and exhausted. You could not hold on to your mind. It slipped from your body, and - you thought of your father, I suppose, and your mind found his. The mind follows its own paths, and they cannot always be understood. Those dead grasses and the gates - they were a nightmare, but they had become real, or at least to Thranduil they had, by the being who's voice you heard. It was a trap meant for Thranduil, but you were ensnared in it."
"Then why did they go away?"
"Elrond." Gandalf's smile returned, thought it was faint. "His mind was on a long journey too. From what Radagast had told him about your father's ailment, Elrond knew that something was wrong, and he sought Thranduil out in the thought - only to find something very dark and dangerous with him. But he pressed on, and in the end, he freed both you and your father."
"I thought Elrond was bad", Legolas confessed. "Not - not bad like the traitor. But I thought he hated Greenwood and didn't want us on his Council."
"He did not want you on the Council, but not because he hates Greenwood - but because the Council had agreed not to trust the Elven King and Queen. Not yet. There was too much at stake. But lord Elrond is wiser than most Wise, you see, for he knows when he is wrong as well as he knows when he is right. Greenwood, I am sure, will hear again from him very soon."
He said no more and Legolas supposed he would be told very little about the dealings of the Council. He did not mind - he was mightily tired of all those Wise people, and he did not care what happened, as long as what he had been there for was done. And it seemed it would be. Tinuhen might not have been there in time, but Legolas had made the Council listen. For him, that part of the story was all over. Tinuhen could take care of the rest.
"Gandalf", he said. "When Tinuhen found me - I don't remember all that very well. But there was one thing... one thing that was strange. There was someone missing."
Gandalf went still, and his eyes became very sad.
Legolas knew, but he couldn't believe it.
He remembered, dimly, Tinuhen lifting him into his arms. He remembered - as though all that time he walked through the snow, before he found his father, a part of his mind had been awake and half aware - Hethulin looking down at him with tears freezing on her cheeks, and he remembered Laeros singing softly as they rode under tall trees.
But he did not remember Beren being there. The part of his mind that was awake had looked for him, longed for him - but not found him.
"Gandalf", Legolas said, and his voice became almost a whisper. "Is Beren..."
Gandalf bowed his head.
"The others..."
"All the others are fine. A few of them had injuries, but none that will not heal, and they have recovered swiftly from their hunger and exhaustion. Laeros is much better than anyone expected."
"But Beren is..."
"Is dead, yes." Gandalf looked at him, and there were tears in his eyes. "I cannot keep that from you. I am very sorry, Legolas."
Legolas swallowed. Up until then, he had always believe that as soon as it was all over, everything would go back to normal. He understood now that it wouldn't. It never would. Beren was dead; and so was Tuiw and Quick-wing. Tilwine and Scead wouldn't come back. Laeros, he thought, would never be the same.
And somewhere deep inside him, something was irreparably broken. Legolas knew it, but he didn't feel it yet. There would be a time for that too, he supposed.
"Now, then", Gandalf said softly. "About those two I promised to tell when you were awake. Would you like to meet them now?"
Legolas was quiet for a moment, and then he managed a faint smile. "I think I do."
Elladan and Elrohir didn't shout or cheer like a lot of other people did later when they found Legolas was awake. They didn't even say anything at first. Elladan took Gandalf's chair, and Elrohir sat down on the edge of Legolas' bed, all the way down by the far end, where Legolas' feet would have been if he had been taller. Then they sat in silence, until Legolas became tired of it.
"Aren't you going to say you're glad that I'm awake?"
He could just as well have taken Gandalf's staff and said some spell, that was how great the change was. Elladan actually laughed - a real, genuine laugh, if a bit subdued - and agreed and said that yes, they should, and they were. Very glad, in fact.
"Aren't we?" he asked, and looked at Elrohir.
Elrohir did not even glance at him. "Yes."
"He is glad", Elladan said. "Just not very talkative. It is best to leave him alone." He looked sad, and so did his father, who had entered the room at the same time but lingered in the doorway.
Legolas reached for Elladan's hand, and Elladan took it. He wasn't sure what to say. There was so much, and he was afraid.
I don't care if you are glad for my sake. I want you to be glad for your own sake. I don't want you to be angry anymore. I don't want you to hunt orcs.
"Elladan", he said. "Did you, uh... did you go after Scead and Tilwine?"
Elladan flinched, as though he did not like to think about it.
"Gandalf said you didn't find them."
"We did not."
"I don't believe you." Legolas looked at him until Elladan met his gaze again. "They could never have hidden from you. Never. You found them. I know you did."
Elladan glanced at his brother, who said nothing. Then he looked at his father, standing by the window, and then at Gandalf by the fire-place, and then back to Legolas. He took a deep breath and nodded. "We did."
"Did you - did you kill them?"
"No." Elladan dug his thumb nail into the skin on his wrist until it started bleeding. "Does - does that bother you?"
In the corner of his eye Legolas saw that both Gandalf and Elrond were listening attentively. This was something they had not known. He could tell that Elrohir wastense by the way he sat, but still he said nothing. Elladans' eyes were desperate.
Legolas shook his head. "I'm - glad you did not kill them. They wouldn't have deserved that. At least Tilwine wouldn't, but I don't think Scead was bad either, not really."
"I don't think so either", Elladan whispered.
"Did you know Tilwine spared my life?"
"I knew one of them did. The snow around those boulders was full of horse tracks from when your brother found you, and Glorfindel and the other elves left as soon as they'd found the tracks that led away, but Elrohir and I stayed. And we saw that someone had been standing just outside where you lay. There was no way he wouldn't have seen you. So we knew."
"But you hunted them down."
"And confronted them", Elladan said. "We found them with their backs to a ravine. They had nowhere to run. We could have killed them - but we wanted to spare their lives. And we wanted to question them. So we said we would taken them to Rivendell - and they turned and were about to jump. They would have killed themselves, only to escape whatever fate they thought awaited them here. So we let them go. We let them go so they would not die."
A heavy silence fell after he had said that. It was the traitor they were afraid of, Legolas thought. The Old One. They must have thought even lord Elrond could not protect them from him.
Maybe they were right. After all, they still had no idea who the Old One was.
"I'm glad you did spare them, though", Legolas said. "And - and I think it was very bravely done. Because you didn't know what I would think of it or Glorfindel or anyone else. You just did what was right."
Elladan smiled again. And then another miracle happened. Elrohir looked up as though he was about to say something, but no words came out, and instead he made an odd, strangled sound like something between a sob and a hiccup - and in two steps lord Elrond had crossed the room and swept him into his arms. And Elrohir didn't try to break out, but collapsed against his father's chest and cried like one who has not cried in years.
All his plans would have been overthrown, Gandalf mused later, if not for Radagast. For although Gandalf held the youngest prince of Greenwood in high regard - as did both Glorfindel and Erestor, and as had lord Elrond come to do in time - he would not have thought Legolas able to speak before the White Council. No doubt Legolas knew about the Shadow, but how much did he understand?
Very much, as it turned out. Though not always visible, the child possessed a clarity of mind far beyond his age. It was perception and intuition, more than true wisdom, that guided him. No small feat had he accomplished with it.
And Radagast alone had seen it. Radagast, who saw the importance of the littlest of things, of birds and plants and insects, and scrawny elflings with grass on their knees and twigs in their hair. Neither Gandalf nor Saruman nor any of the other Wise knew to appreciate those things as they should. That was Radagast's strength.
There was, of course, much left to do - and much to find out. Tilwine and Scead had slipped their net, and with them the real traitor, the head behind it all - the Old One. Who they were not even Saruman seemed to guess. He had shut himself up in the astronomy tower again pouring over old tomes, but what he expected to find there, Gandalf did not know - not the Old One, anyway, he thought.
But the Wise had another ally now. It stood clear they needed Greenwood as much as Greenwood needed them. Messages across the Mountains would be more frequent and more friendly than ever in the years to come - and hopefully the Old One would have no choice but to go into hiding and allow it for a while, for now they knew of him.
All this had been discussed and would be discussed for many days to come. Yet as for now, Gandalf felt certain that things were turning to look good again.
He commented as much to Elrond, who walked beside him. It had been a reluctant father who left his sons, but the elf lord was needed once more.
"Ah", lord Elrond said. He looked pleased, and some of the care-worn lines around his mouth had softened. "Yes, Mithrandir, I do agree. Although we know now we stand before two enemies - the Old One, and the Sorcerer in Dol Guldur - and their power, I believe, is great, I believe we can take them both. There is more hope now than there has been for many a year.
"The Sorcerer", Gandalf said. "Do you know who he is?"
There was a pause. "I know why Thranduil believes what he believes. I might have come to the same conclusion - had I not seen him fall. But it will show. Indeed - it will show."
No doubt it would, Gandalf thought, but it must show in time. It seemed an inappropriate moment to come with dark predictions, however, and he let it pass.
"As for Thranduil", he said instead. "Will you speak to him again?"
"I will. Did you speak to Legolas about him?"
"Hm?"
"Elbereth", lord Elrond said. "Did you not think of telling the child his father has awakened?"
"So", Thranduil said, letting his fingers twine with Gwiwileth's. "It is all over."
Lord Elrond's voice, calm as always but bristling with joy beneath the surface, had left, but the news he had brought were only beginning to sink in. For the second time that winter he had sent his mind on the dangerous and tiring journey to Greenwood; this time, however, he had found no shadow and no ill dreams, and no dark being had come to challenge him. He had found Thranduil awake, and Gwiwileth with him, and he had spoken to them both.
Gwiwileth now shook her head so that her dark hair danced about it, but she smiled. "It will be over when our children have come home. For now, let us be content that all is fine. They live, and you live."
"And you live."
"Why, yes - " she frowned - "but there was never any danger for my life."
Thranduil squeezed her hand. He thought that had been that worst part of it all to her - that all she did and could do was to sit by and wait as her daughter left for the shadow-wood, and her husband lay sick and perhaps dying, and word of Tuiw's recovered body reached the palace like a premonition of what awaited her sons and their company. Gwiwileth would have fought, if only there had been something to fight. But Thranduil's enemy she could not reach, and she could not leave the Mountain halls to go after Merilin, for they needed their queen. She had stayed, and she had kept spirits up and fear away among the elves in this the darkest of many winters; but her own spirit none had comforted, and her own fears had not diminished.
Through the southern window they now could see the shadow, closer than it had been that autumn, but not longer marching forward. A messenger had reached them the day before in the form of a barn owl, and finally they'd had news about Merilin. The letter had been written in her own hand, confident and curly, on the piece of parchment had been damp and the ink had run: but her words thought few had been triumphant.
All are well, she had written. We have fought and defeated the orcs, and the shadow-elves will be joining will return home as soon as we can. Send supplies and reinforcements, if you can, and we will meet them on the road.
"The orcs defeated!" Gwiwileth had said when she read it. "That girl! Always I told her - and she wouldn't listen."
"Well, now she knows", Thranduil said. "Now she knows what she can do. And she lives."
"She lives", Gwiwileth had repeated, and her voice had become a whisper. The guilt on her face when she told Thranduil she had sent their daughter into the shadow-wood; the fear when she said they had not heard from her since - how many nights had she lay sleepless and alone and thought of her family that in a single blow she may be about to lose? They were there in her eyes; nights long enough to age her a thousand winters.
But it was over now - or at least, it was fine. Merilin was coming home. Tinuhen had arrived in Rivendell. Legolas had awakened. Once the High Pass was open, they too would come home.
"I wonder", Thranduil said. "Lord Elrond sounded very glad. Gladder than he has sounded in his letters ever since CelebrÃan was taken."
"Perhaps", said Gwiwileth, "there is something that has helped him heal. Something - or someone, that had made him feel less helpless, and more of use."
It would be long before they learnt the full truth - that Elladan and Elrohir had, at last, forgiven both their father and themselves for what happened to their mother, and that though it would be slow, healing had finally come to the House of Elrond. At that time, it did not matter. Their children would return to Greenwood, and that was the important thing.
Soon every elf of the Mountain knew it, and there was joy in the Halls such as there had not been for a long time. Still, the worry lingered as it would until every elf that had left this winter had returned - or been accounted for, at least. That Beren would not come back, they already knew, and though little was known of the battle between Merilin and the orcs in the shadow-wood, Thranduil held no hope that no lives had been lost at all. Lord Elrond had not mentioned Laeros at all, but that he would return with Tinuhen and Legolas in spring seemed unlikely.
And there was, of course, the way back. It had proven more dangerous than ever before. No peace of mind, no full nights of sleep would anyone have before all were back.
Then at last, some seven days after Merilin's letter arrived, a party of hunters returning told that they had spied the princess and her company upon the road not far from the Mountain. They had moved slowly, for children and cattle and many wounded were among them, but the reinforcements sent out seemed to have met them in time. They would arrive, the hunters said, in no more than two hours.
The elves of the Mountain were no less excited because they had known the warriors were coming back. Thranduil did not think any work got done while they waited - it might have seemed as though chandeliers were being polished, plates cleaned and fires stoked for dinner, clothes washed and bridge guarded, but in truth, those were just excuses for the hands while the mind was on other things. And it became laundry day, all of a sudden, since that meant the laundry elves had to go down to the river, from which they could overlook the road. The guard by the gates doubled, without anyone giving the order. Some elves took it upon themselves to shovel the courtyard, nevermind that had been done that very morning and it hadn't snowed since then.
The trees waited too, branches stirring with expectation; a whisper and a wave that grew and grew until all elves were on the courtyard, or on the riverbanks to see what was going on. And then they came. First one, ten then and then all of a sudden there were at least a hundred elves, some moving through the branches above, others on the mountain path. Merilin walked first. Her leather jerkin was notched and her clothes torn; she had one arm in bandages. But she glowed. Like a girl on her first ball - and like a woman, bold and proud. On her pale hair a crown of red leaves and berries lay; another crown, dented and twisted and made of silver, she held in her hand.
Across the bridge they went, and under the arch, and stopped at last below the stair where Thranduil and Gwiwileth stood. Duneirien and Brand, equally battle-worn, flanked Merilin, Duneirien with a nasty cut on her forehead. Among the elves behind them, some looked suspiciously around as though they had never seen the place and knew not what to think of it; they were pale and dark-eyed, clad in furs and skins, and most of them carried bows or spears. Children there were also, some so small they must be carried on their mother's backs, and sheep and goats and dogs and poultry.
"Father", said Merilin again, "mother." She waited until all was quiet. It did not take long. "The elves of the shadow-wood have come to stay with us. Together we defeated the orcs that attacked us, but many of their homes have been destroyed, and the Shadow reaches further than will lend their help to the Mountain on one condition."
Beside Thranduil, he heard Gwiwileth draw a deep breath; in joy or in shock he could not tell. He longed to ask so many questions, and most of all he wanted to hold Merilin in his arms, but instead he asked: "And what is their condition?"
"That Greenwood, even the place we call the shadow-wood, is not abandoned." Another elf stepped up beside Merilin, a tall elf with copper hair braided away from the half of her face that had been burnt. "The Shadow will spread, whatever we do, but the forest is not lost because of it. We must help were it can. Ease the damage, and care for the trees and the animals. Most of all, we must not hide, and we will not flee again."
She looked more at Gwiwileth than Thranduil when she spoke; and Gwiwileth turned to her husband and in her eyes he saw the decision already made. He nodded; even if there had been a choice, he would not have chosen differently.
"And so it shall be", Gwiwileth said, "and I think not anyone disagrees, for we have learnt that hiding and fleeing is of no avail; and that fighting is possible."
Brand, forgetting his place, cheered at that; and so did many others, and the elves of the shadow-wood smiled their tight-lipped smiles, and Merilin laughed. Then Thranduil forgot himself, too, and he stepped down and took her in his arms; and she was so thin, hardened and slender, and he lifted her into the air and spun her around. Her arms were strong and her laughter darker than it had been before. She had not returned a warrior, he thought, because Merilin had no love for war and never would have. But she had returned a leader.
When he set her down on the floor, she held out the silver crown to him. Gwiwileth took one glance at it and shook her head. "I fear it is beyond repair."
"Well - perhaps it was time for a new crown anyway", Thranduil said. It had been his father's, and he grieved its loss, but not for any other reason. "It always felt more like Doriath than Greenwood, and Gwiwileth has never had anything similar." He looked at his daughter. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all", she said and swept the crown of red leaves from her hair. It was a little too small for Thranduil, but it could be remade. It was light and comfortable, and he thought it would not be so much of a pain to wear on long meetings. Gwiwileth took one look a him and readjusted it a little.
Thranduil turned to the crowd. He supposed that he should hold some kind of speech, but at that moment he only wanted to talk to Merilin; and the newly returned elves must be tired and hungry anyway. Short speeches were far better.
"Elves of Greenwood", he said, and looked specifically at the elves of the shadow-wood. "Welcome home.
One chapter left, guys!
The word count on this story is above that of the Return of the King. If I knew I was actually going to write a novella-length story... I'm not sure I would've done it. So I'm glad I didn't know ;)