Chapter Seventy-Two

(everything is spoken in Elvish)

~ Eldarion ~
" – and we sent you back here, and Mordor crumbled, and that's basically the end of everything," I concluded. Quickly, I racked my brains for anything I had missed and even shot a glance towards Estel to see if she had caught anything I had not – but she merely shook her head once, signaling to me that she couldn't think of anything I had missed.

My father pushed away the tray of food, his gaze resting on me with a thoughtful look.

I was surprised he wasn't dozing.

It wasn't exactly the most interesting tale, after all, and there was a lot of it to bring him up to speed on. A lot. We had to go through the Battle of Amon Hen, the Battle of Helms' Deep, the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and the Battle of the Black Gate – and everything else in between.

Normally, I wouldn't go to such lengths.

But this was my father. And when he asked for things to be told to him, he meant it. Aragorn was my Lord Chieftain, but this was my father – I could not, would not deny him.

"So . . . you know everything? All of this?" my father asked, directing the question at Legolas and Haldir.

Haldir nodded.

"Mithrandir saw fit to tell me," Legolas said gently, "because he thought it would be easier if there was someone else to protect Estel as well if he did not make it."

My father's eyes narrowed. "Mithrandir?" There was an air of recognization in his voice; but then again, my father knew the stories as well as all of us. "And how did Mithrandir find out about . . . well, all of us?"

"Lord Elrond told him," Estel explained softly.

"Lord Elrond?" my father exclaimed in surprise, sitting bolt upright. "But . . . But I thought . . . He's actually here?"

"Yes, Father," Tinúviel answered. "Estel stayed at Imladris for some time, actually, before the Fellowship set out on their quest, if my memory serves me correctly. . . Does it, sister?"

Estel nodded. "I know it is a lot to take in, Father – but it is the truth."

My father's expression turned troubled. "The truth? Yes, I know. But not all of it. . . There is always a price to pay, Estel, and saving an entire family from the Halls of Mandos will require a hefty repayment indeed. . . I fear . . . We have escaped death, yes. But it makes me question the reasons behind this. We are not the first family of Believers, nor the strongest, nor the most educated in the lore of our bloodline. Others could have easily served the same role. And that is my next question – why us?"

"The Valar had their own reasons," Legolas interjected. "They always have, of all the Peredhel."

My father didn't respond.

But I could easily tell that something was bothering my father. He usually wasn't this brooding.

I nearly laughed. Usually wasn't? Valar, I haven't seen him since I was . . . and here I am, already acting as though he's been here all along. . .

My mother glanced at my father. "Enough. I think it is time for us to retire. . . Elessar, you need rest if you wish to recover, you know."

My father sighed.

Estel glided forward, kissed my father on the cheek, and hugged my mother before returning to Legolas, who held out a hand. She took it almost instinctively, without thinking, and together they glided out the door, perfectly in step. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw how he leaned down to kiss the top of her head reassuringly.

Tinúviel curtsied to my father. "Good night, my Lord." Then she and Haldir left as well.

I made to leave after them.

Then my father said, "Wait, Eldarion."

I turned around. My father still had that brooding, troubled expression on his face, and it seemed he only transferred his gaze to me with great difficulty, as though he had just seen something that caused him even more worries. It didn't help that my mother was looking strangely at my father as well; and my mother generally understood my father better than anyone.

"Yes, Father?"

He hesitated for three heartbeats.

Then: "Tell me . . . What is going on between Estel and . . . that Elf?"

I frowned. Estel? Wait . . . "Wait, what?"

"Do not play innocent with me," my father said, and despite being in bed and injured, he seemed suddenly as threatening and powerful as he always had, for in his day he had been the leader of the Dúnedain and the most likely successor to my grandmother, the leader of the Believers. "I may be injured, and exhausted, and unaccustomed to this Age – but my eyesight and thoughts are not so clouded."

My mother glanced at him, confusion clear on her face. "Clouded on what?" she asked.

His eyes narrowed as he looked between us. "Are you two in a conspiracy against me?" he demanded, his voice harsh. "Eldarion, you especially – you swore to defend the honor of your sisters until your last breath."

I floundered, at a total loss for words. My father and I had gotten along splendidly; yet never before had his criticism been so harsh. And even worse – I did not know what he was talking about.

"Is it of Legolas that you speak?" my mother said suddenly.

My father's eyes widened. "Legolas?"

"Yes, Father. Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood. He has been our companion in the Fellowship since its beginning in Imladris, just as the stories have always said, and has long since pledged to Estel's protection," I elaborated.

My father stared, stunned, gaping like a fish. "And . . . And the other?" he stammered.

"He is Haldir, marchwarden of Lothlórien. . . Father?" I asked warily, taking a step forward in his direction.

My mother sprang forward. "Elessar! Elessar!"

~ Tinúviel ~
"Your father seems to be adapting well," Haldir said gently.

I sighed. "Maybe. But I can sense it will be a while before he is ready to walk amongst us again. . ."

Haldir took my hand. "Meleth-nin, remember, it wasn't that long ago that he was a prisoner of Sauron, and that he has dwelt on your 'deaths' for many years before that. It will take him a while to readjust, yes, but it is not your fault."

"I do not blame myself."

He frowned. "Then what troubles you?" he asked gently.

"Just . . ." I looked down with a sigh. "Elves have different ways of choosing spouses than Men do, even than Dúnedain, Haldir. I do not think you will understand – but I also do not believe that my father will . . . approve . . . of you . . . as a husband for one such as me. I am a mortal, Haldir; inevitably, our journey will come to an end and our paths will part."

"What does being a mortal have to do with love? We may be of different Kindreds, but, meleth-nin, that has not stopped those who came before us."

I tried to interrupt, but he raised a hand.

"Let me finish, please," he said gently. "Tinúviel, we are both Children of Ilúvatar. The only differences between us are in the gifts He chose to grace us with. That does not meant that I will envy you death, or you envy me life. And it does not mean that we are so different that the lengths of our lives will determine the way we love."

I didn't answer. Haldir was right, and his arguments, in fact, were the very ones I had been mustering quietly in the back of my mind.

But I hadn't been seeing my father when I had made those arguments.

I had seen the way my father's eyes had narrowed as he watched the interaction between my sister and Legolas; I had seen his disapproval in the set of his jaw; I had glimpsed the confusion in the way he asked Eldarion to remain behind.

He didn't understand.

And he certainly did not approve.

It was why I had been careful to distance myself from Haldir during that meeting. I didn't want him being suspicious or overprotective or confused as to what was real and what was not. And Haldir had sensed my wishes, at least, and kept his own distance as well, for which I was very grateful.

Of course, that didn't work for Estel and Legolas.

Legolas and Estel were . . . different from Haldir and I. Very different.

Legolas and Estel had fallen in love, but gradually; their friendship had been the cause of a budding relationship that had very slowly transformed into to love. It had probably had as many bumps and problems as Aragorn and Arwen had had, and especially with the addition of Éomer into the mix as well. That meant that the ties that bound the two together were at once more subtle and open than Haldir's and mine could ever be.

Besides, Legolas was not Haldir. He had sworn to be Estel's protector before he had fallen for her; he had sworn his death for her life, if need be. He was extremely protective of her, almost to the point of ridiculousness, I noticed, but sometimes that was good.

And Estel certainly wasn't me. She had not been gifted with the beauty of the Morning and Evening Stars, but she had such a mix of Elven and human blood that made her seem like an innocent to be protected, a prize to be kept, a treasure to shield.

Legolas was drawn to that charming mix, and she, in turn, found comfort in being able to trust him as she hadn't been able to trust an outsider – ever.

In that sense, in the presence of my father, Estel knew Legolas liked having her near, and she acquiesced and stayed at his side. And Legolas, like Haldir, knew little of the traditions of the Dúnedain – and even worse, Legolas was a Prince, and the only prince of Mirkwood at that.

"Meleth-nin?"

I looked up and sighed. "My father won't approve. And while for now his attention is focused on Estel and Legolas, it will not remain so for long. . ."

Haldir's eyes grew stormy as he crossed his arms. On one hand, he could not bear to lose me. On the other, he would not dare to cause me pain by separating me from my family.

"Do you think . . . How is this normally done, then?" he asked.

I bit my lip. "Generally, the prospective husband asks the father for the permission to marry," I explained finally. "And then the father discusses it with the mother and the daughter before he makes his final decision on whether or not it is to be. That is the tradition the Dúnedain followed, and so by extension so do the Believers. . . Why?"

"I think . . . when it is time . . . perhaps when your father has adjusted, then I will plead our case to him."

I stared in shock. "Haldir! You can't – "

"I will not lose you. I must do everything I can, Tinúviel; you can not sway me in this."

"But . . . Haldir . . ." I shook my head and sighed. "Haldir, please, I think it will be best if I break the news first. I am his daughter."

Haldir frowned. "Is that not against tradition?"

"My father is reasonable. And my mother knows, and she will listen. And . . . And I can't . . . My father can be ambiguous, Haldir, and I do not want things to go . . . wrong."

His eyes softened abruptly, and he moved to cup my cheek with a gentle hand. "He won't hurt me over something as trivial as this," he reassured me. "In the worst case scenario, I will simply withdraw my claim to your hand and wait for time to let your father see reason. I can wait. I will wait, especially for someone as you, meleth-nin."

Startled speechless, I stared at Haldir for only a short moment before I folded into his embrace, holding him as close to me as he held me to him.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He kissed the top of my head. "I love you."