To Rekindle Hearts

Chapter 10: Confronting Reality

Legolas looked up from his mug and nodded to Lostariel in acknowledgement, and then returned to playing with his tea. Lostariel sighed and continued; he was too listless for her to expect his full attention right now.

"There is something we do not talk about, as servants of our forest and our people. But it affects each of us, though some of us more than others, because we are at our core beings of the light," Lostariel said evenly, "regardless of our relegation to moriquendi by fairer elves, and our peculiarities as an increasingly mixed people—to see our home despoiled is horrific to us; to see darkness twist the hearts of woodmen and village folk as well as the hearts of our kin and comrades? It hurts our souls. And to see darkness seemingly prevail over all that we hold good and pure again and again and yet again, it is exhausting, and it may evoke in us a sense of doom."

Lostariel quit speaking for a moment to look more closely at Legolas. She did not want to give this lecture only to realize he had not been able to listen at all. She noted, however, that while the rest of Legolas was quite still, he still halfheartedly chased the herbs around the mug with his fingertips.

"Take those out," Lostariel directed. "They will oversteep."

Legolas took the metal net out and lay it on the table, taking the mug into both hands with his elbows propped on the wood so the draught's scent and the steam from the cup were right below his chin and nose. He looked at Lostariel in the eyes and gave a small nod.

"Go on," he said, and sipped at his tea.

Lostariel removed the herbs from her own cup and then continued. "I respect our king, but I believe your father was too harsh with you when you first returned, for your actions were not a result of wreckless foolishness or youthful impulsivity, but rather loyalty and something much larger, tinged heavily with desperation. But the King was scared for you, and fear forces fathers and leaders to make statements before they have considered their repercussions."

Legolas blew now on the tea in his hands; the steam shifted and swirled to obscure Lostariel's view of his face. She continued.

"What I mean is this: there is nothing shameful in such exhaustion. Mithrandir sensed in you and Ithildim that desperation; it is why he wanted you to leave the forest with him, and why I even told you he was in the woods in the first place."

Legolas lowered his mug and raised his eyebrows as Lostariel continued to speak.

"Captain Legolas, you protect your forest well, but you do not protect your own heart; you are too intent on your mission to protect our people. I know, however, that your work will eventually suffer, for your behavior and decisions while off-duty are an indicator of the health of your soul," said Lostariel firmly, catching his eyes in hers and holding his gaze unblinkingly. "The recklessness that led to your fall is symptomatic of this health. It is not unusual for an elf or man to act in such a way—when carrying a burden unrecognized by themselves—and the cumulative effects of the trauma you have both born and witnessed manifest themselves in their leaders in dangerous ways."

Legolas did not say anything but he looked at Lostariel challengingly and grasped his mug tightly in both hands; Lostariel noted his knuckles had whitened around the warm ceramic.

"You must take care of yourself, before you fail yourself," she pushed on without hesitation, expecting soon a reaction. "You must consider your needs before you inadvertently become a danger to those that you and Ithildim command."

Legolas released his hands from the mug and flexed his stiff fingers quickly.

"I would never be so negligent as to allow my own misjudgement to endanger the lives of one of my warriors," Legolas said coldly, grasping again his mug.

"You would not do so willfully, no," said Lostariel. "But when we are overwhelmed by the grief we have seen, we do not see so clearly our own actions."

Legolas nodded shortly and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms across his chest. Their mugs sat abandoned between them.

"I have always tried to be humble, but I recognize my value as a warrior and a servant of our land," said Legolas. "My heart can endure things that the hearts of most others simply cannot endure, and I can remain cheerful in the face of great evil or dire circumstances."

"That is a fair assessment of some of your qualities," said Lostariel. "It is why you serve the Southern Defense."

"I know," Legolas said, looking now at the diminishing steam in the mugs between them. Lostariel's arms were likewise still folded across her chest but rested lightly on the table.

"So," Legolas continued,"if I can endure, should I not do so? If I can do more than I am already doing, should I not do more, and thus better protect our home? If I can endure one more pain on my heart or soul, should I not endure it so that someone else does not have to? Someone has to do these things, and I am capable of doing it. I am fine. Is it not my duty to protect where others cannot?" Legolas finished.

Lostariel was silent for a moment, and then placed both her hands flat on the table. She looked intently at Legolas for a few seconds, and then folded her arms again across her chest, and leaned back. Lostariel narrowed her eyes at Legolas and tilted her head; she spoke.

"Did you not lose Elednil to a spider attack several moons past?" asked Lostariel.

"Yes," Legolas replied.

"And he died in obeying a command you gave," she stated.

"Yes," said Legolas again.

"And how did you rest after that?"

There was a beat in which Legolas blinked and lowered his eyes to the seat of his chair.

"I did not at all rest, for many weeks," he said finally.

"And when you were sanctioned by the Defense Council several summers ago, for refusing to follow through on an order from Ithildim," said Lostariel evenly.

Legolas was silent for a moment again and then met her eyes, and it hurt her to see the betrayal there.

"We lost no lives," Legolas said. "You defended my decision to the court."

"You are right that you did not lose a single life," Lostariel said. "In fact, your decision to disobey saved your warriors. But that action still led to the disfigurement of one of your troops, and the action of disobedience became a weapon. You were forced to endure endless questioning, to enumerate every decision you made from the beginning of that patrol to the end, and to explain, in detail, the nature of the abhorrent events of which you had learned that led you to defy an order. All this in a public forum, before you were even allowed to return to duty. And still for very long after you answered questions in the corridors, redirected gossip in the barracks, admonished novices for idealizing brazen behavior. You endured whispered accusations of conceit for quite a while more."

"That is all accurate," said Legolas, jaw clenched tightly as he swallowed. "Thank you for the vivid reminder."

"And when you responded to the fire in the village to the west immediately before you left with Mithrandir, and the young elf that you and Celebel pulled from the cottage who died in your arms. And the mother that you comforted best you could, and the younger brother who demanded you explain death to him, and you did not know how. The children whose eyes you shut and the elves whose hands you held in grief, who you helped to cut away burnt clothes, wash from them the cloying scent of burnt skin and dying trees and their children's death,"said Lostariel, leaning forward in her seat and speaking as close to Legolas as she could from across the table. "Yet you were to remain stoic for your soldiers and give comfort to the families that our elves could not help; you laid to rest the children who had been burned or suffocated, and coordinated treatment for all the rest."

Legolas could not for a moment speak. He stared at the seat of his chair. Lostariel could see a vein pounding in his neck, and he bit his lower lip sharply as if reminding himself of his physical body, and the pain he could yet feel there.

It seemed to snap him out of his thoughts.

"What is the point of this, Commander?" Legolas finally hissed. He looked at Lostariel with hurt in his light eyes, darkened by angry and unshed tears, and then he seemed to crumple. He uncrossed his arms and propped them on the table. He leaned forward, and hid his face in his hands.

"Legolas," said Lostariel quietly and with compassion, "You have suffered great trauma. And seen the pain of others. You cannot remain whole and hale and effective if you do not acknowledge it. Even now you do not eat well or rest enough, and eventually you will despair, and lash out. You will hurt yourself and others. You are of no use to any of us—not a single one of us, most especially yourself—dead."

Legolas' face was still covered by his hands, but a shaky sigh escaped it. He sat thus for several minutes before speaking.

"You are right, I know, Lostariel," he finally said.

"Of course I am. I have not served Mirkwood since the Second Age to remain an idiot still," Lostariel replied.

"No," said Legolas, lifting his head and brushing his hands over tears on his cheeks in a quick movement. "You of course have not."

Legolas gave her a small half-smile.

"You are incredibly strong, Legolas," said Lostariel, and she walked around the table and dropped onto her haunches in front of him. "But you have been strong now for too long, and it is not—after all this—" she waved a hand at his head, "sustainable."

Legolas nodded, and Lostariel patted him on the knee, standing up again and perching on the edge of the table some distance from Legolas' chair.

"I think you should take a true leave of absence," said Lostariel, studying for a moment the floor. What she had to ask—or rather, order—pained her to do.

"What?" Legolas exclaimed, jumping. "No!"

"I want you to rest from your responsibilities and injury," she continued.

"No, Commander; I am resting!"

"You are not," said Lostariel, and Legolas did not contradict her now. "I want you to go to Imladris to recover."

"I will not go there; I have a duty here and I do not know the Noldor's ways," Legolas said, allowing his voice to take on a flat and unperturbed quality.

"For all the reasons we discussed, I think it is best," said Lostariel. "I have already had Anaron consult with Lord Elrond in regards to your head injury, so he should not be surprised by a formal request for treatment; furthermore, I have already discussed the possibility with Anaron and Ithildim. Ithildim came to me with concerns himself. And as your commanding officer, I will see you—"

Legolas reached a hand across the distance toward her, but seemed to change his mind. He slid instead from his chair and dropped to his knees before her; he bowed his head deferently.

"Please, commander, no," Legolas said. Several locks of hair had fallen out of his braid and now framed his lowered face; they made him look more earnest and younger than even he was. "Please do not command me to do so, Lostariel. Please do not make me consider disobeying you so directly. To leave here—to leave my home?—it would break my heart."

"Staying here will do just the same," she said, curtly. "You apparently do not truly recognize what such unacknowledged exposure to the darkness can do to our souls over time, though you are strong enough to become impervious to it if you will just but heal."

Lostariel looked as if Legolas' stubborness physically pained her.

She continued, "Therefore, if you are not well from these seizures by not this full moon, but the next, you will go to Imladris for Lord Elrond. And that is an order, Captain."

"Yes, Commander," Legolas said with relief in his voice. "Thank you. I understand."

"Good," said Lostariel. "I will speak with the King about our plan. You will not go to the King's council this evening, nor wait up for the captain's meeting, and Ithildim will delay until tomorrow to write his report. I will explain to Amonhir the holdup."

"Yes, Lostariel," Legolas said.

"You will go now and rest, or stay here for a time. I will relieve Amonhir of the novices' training and see you tomorrow."

Legolas nodded and stayed in his seat as Lostariel left the room. He drained the last of his now-cold tea, popped a root of valerian into his mouth and began to chew, and when he heard both the study door and the door to the training fields swing shut, he was on his feet. He stepped outside, slipped behind the officers' barracks, and then ran between the tree trunks, in and out of clumps of laurel, around obstacles and over rocks, until he could run no more. He then walked silently to his rooms in the Elvenking's halls, stripped himself of the outer layers of his uniform, and fell quite gracelessly onto his bed.

Lostariel was right in everything that she had said. It did not make him happy, and he felt even ashamed, but he did not have a single idea what to do about it.

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