CHAPTER 36) A CHILD IS BORN
Legolas was awoken from his half-sleep a few hours later by a loud, piercing scream.
The sound startled him, and he sat bolt upright, inclining his head so as to discover the direction of the sound. However, the noise had already dissipated, only echoes reverberating through the stone halls. A few seconds later the sound began once more, a deafening wail that made Legolas shrink back in discomfort. He puzzled over the sound, irritated – as ever Elves are – by being unable to identify the noise. It was another hazy moment before recognition clicked in his mind:
The baby had been born.
In one swift but painful movement he removed himself from the sheets, his head rushing, lights dazzling across his vision. Nonetheless, a moment later these had faded, and he hastened towards the doorway with slightly clumsy steps.
He swung open the heavy wood and immediately found himself barred by two sharp, glinting blades at throat level – he had forgotten quite entirely about his supervision.
"You are under strict orders not to – " began one of the soldiers, but Legolas had already slipped lithely under the swords and taken off down the hallway with light, swift strides.
"My lord, come back here!" one called, whilst the other made a brief attempt at a chase. A few seconds was enough to confirm what he had already suspected, however – even an injured Elf was faster than an uninjured Man.
The baby's cries continued, and Legolas followed them, the screams growing louder and louder as he climbed the spiralling stairs. His lungs seared like hellfire with every breath, but he did not slow or stop until he arrived in front of a pale wooden door, the carved White Tree identifying it clearly as Aragorn and Arwen's chamber. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, placing a hand to his chest where, below, shards of broken rib lay, as if this would in any way air the jabbing, needling pain they caused. He considered knocking, but dismissed the idea – besides, every person in the room beyond the door was either innately gifted with keen ears, or trained to be so, and they undoubtedly already knew that he stood behind the carved wood.
Suddenly the handle rattled and Legolas caught a second's glimpse of the chamber beyond before Aragorn had pulled the door shut behind him.
"How is Arwen?" Legolas asked immediately.
"She is well. Tired… but happy." Aragorn replied, and the dark circles under his eyes gave away the fact that he too was exhausted.
"And the baby?" the Elf added eagerly.
"He is absolutely perfect." Aragorn said, his weary face breaking into a wide smile.
"He? Then it is – "
"A boy, yes." he cut across excitedly. "Of course, it did not matter to either of us whether the baby was to be a boy or a girl, so long as they were healthy, and he is."
"May I see them?" Legolas asked, gesturing towards the closed door.
"Yes, of course you may, but would it be too much of me to request you delay your visit slightly? Arwen is resting, and besides, there is a small matter I wish to discuss with you." Aragorn explained, his face becoming solemn.
Legolas' heart jumped in his chest as he realised he was now to face Aragorn's rage, a fact which he found neither surprising nor wholly unreasonable - after all, he had disobeyed direct orders to remain in bed, and even had the nerve to slip past the guards stationed to keep him in the infirmary. Yet his thoughts rushed, and he readied his tongue for argument, still spiteful that Aragorn had dared treat him so distrustfully.
"What is it you wish you discuss?" Legolas asked frigidly, the question more of a courtesy than an actual query.
Aragorn drew a deep breath for composure.
"Would you do Arwen and I the kindness of being his – I mean, the baby's - guardian?"
Legolas blinked with wide-eyed confusion.
"I-I know that it is not a custom of your people to allocate guardians in such a sense," Aragorn said hurriedly. "But neither of us could imagine anyone we could possibly prefer as his custodian, and – "
"Do you jest?" the Elf asked, so incredulously that Aragorn recoiled.
"Nothing will be pressed upon you, if you do not desire – "
"I have spent hundreds of years among the realms of Men, and for the most part I believe I understand their ways. But you, Aragorn, have me at a point of utter confusion." Legolas interrupted bluntly. "At first I am unbearable to you, the next moment respectable; one minute a fool, a short time later, a wise man. You call me a child, and then turn around and entrust me with one! I no more understand you than I understand the wills of the Valar, for surely they are more predictable than this!"
"What have I done to confuse you so?" Aragorn asked gently. "Answer with truth, for I truly want to hear what haunts your thoughts to this degree."
"You ask for an honest answer, but I do not think you truly wish for it. Nonetheless, I am a poor liar in any case." Legolas replied fierily, pacing back and forth in his agitation. "Shall I list all the ways that you have thrown me from all sense, Aragorn? You laugh and jest one day, and then call me 'fool' the next; you insult my kindred, whom I know you to love dearly; you assure me of your friendship, yet deem me inappropriate for care of Ithilien! But do you care to know the action which left me most confounded?"
Aragorn could not muster an answer, so taken back was he by the Elf's swift rage.
"I gave up on ever understanding you, Aragorn, the moment you arrived at the caves with the intent of rescue." Legolas spat.
"How can that be? I came to your aid, just as you would have done for me – "
"Aye, I would. I would trade my body for ashes in a single heartbeat, if I were given but the slightest indication that it would save you." Legolas stated frankly. "But I had no longer come to expect the same courtesy in return."
"You no longer… What?" Aragorn muttered, frowning. "What on earth do you mean?"
"I am not a fool, Aragorn, no matter what your opinions on the matter may be. You insulted me and my kindred alike, and you made it clear – quite clear – that you did not value our friendship enough to grant me the care of Ithilien." Legolas explained pointedly. "It does not take a wise man to draw conclusions: I realized, some time ago, that you had moved on from the bond we once held."
"So this is what has plagued you, ever since you fled the city?" Aragorn questioned, horrified. "Gimli said that you were distracted, that whilst you were present, your mind was not. Were your worries of this nature?"
Legolas nodded reluctantly. "Indeed. I long ago began to fear that you were changing, your heart shifting away from old alliances and old friendships, such as ours. We Elves may endure unchanging on through the centuries, but I have become aware that humans are more temperamental, more subject to shifts of opinion. I do not hold you accountable for the ways of your people, of course, but-"
"Stop." Aragorn interrupted bluntly. "Allow me to confirm this fact: you think that my allegiance, nay, my friendship, with you has faded?"
Legolas' eyes shifted from enraged to saddened. "Yes, I suppose that is the best explanation of events."
"My friend, you are no fool, but never before have you been so wrong." Aragorn answered, shaking his head in disbelief. "To say that you are no longer my friend is to argue that water is not wet, that the winter is not chill!"
Legolas blinked once in astonishment, wide-eyed confusion painting his features.
"Whatever can you mean?" he implored, a light frown now marring his brow.
Aragorn drew in a breath so shaking and unsteady that Legolas feared he had been struck with illness, and he ran his hands furiously through his hair – his nervous habit.
"I… I do not even know what to say. To think that you thought yourself abandoned, that I no longer cared for your desires nor your wellbeing…" Aragorn rambled, eyes darting desolately, unable to hold their focus in his distress.
"I am sorry, Aragorn." Legolas interjected, brow drawn in consolation. "I see now that I was wrong, I should not have – "
"You are sorry? My friend, I am the one who should be on my knees, begging for your forgiveness." Aragorn returned, finally able to hold his gaze long enough to stare pleadingly into the eyes the exact blue of a spring sky. "I have caused you unease, and confusion, and pain. At every interval, when I should have offered you my assistance, I turned you away. When you most needed support, I left you alone. I have been the very worst friend imaginable – no, beyond that. I have been – "
"It does not matter." the Elf cut in dismissively, the pitiful apologies causing him nothing but further anguish.
"It does not matter? Of course it matters, Legolas, and at this moment it matters more than anything else." Aragorn implored, his breathing shallow and hasty.
"Honestly, Aragorn, I hold no crimes against your name. What you did, you did with all the best intentions for the wellness of your kingdom." Legolas returned.
"But at the expense of my oldest and dearest friend – a price I am not willing to pay for anything, even the comfort and security of these lands." Aragorn said, shaking his head. "I would rather fight ten wars by your side than live to see a single day of peace without you."
"Aragorn – " Legolas began reproachfully, feeling the tips of his ears flush pink.
"No, I am not finished." Aragorn cut across. "And… and I am ashamed, more so than anything, that it has taken me this long to portray that fact to you, for nothing has changed in my heart since the day I first made your acquaintance. You are as dear to me as ever you were, if not more, and every harm I have allowed to befall you is entirely accidental. Nonetheless, I beg that you grant me forgiveness for my folly, though I am underserving, and… and…"
His voice cracked with emotion, and he drew a deep, forced breath before concluding.
"And I implore that you allow me to spend the rest of my mortal life proving to you the same loyalty you have always shown me."
Legolas made a distinctly inelegant noise as his throat drew tight with emotion, and without warning, Aragorn stepped forwards and drew him into a tight embrace. Such gestures were not customary in Elven culture, and this combined with his heightened senses meant that every minute detail was as measureable as if it were held under a looking glass. He could feel Aragorn's tears wetting the fabric of his tunic as the man pressed his face to the Elf's shoulder, and could smell their sorrow as clearly as he could their salt. Legolas noted the beating of his friend's heart, quick but steady. He felt his own chest quivering and shaking, and more acutely, the pain from where the hug pressed the gash in his shoulder. Yet, it did not seem unbearable, somehow, as if the embrace took place in an emotional realm that physicality could not penetrate.
Aragorn released him from his iron grip, holding Legolas gently now at an arm's length and surveying him closely, as if truly seeing him for the first time.
"You are as a brother to me," he stated, his grey eyes not steely and fierce as Legolas had so often known them to be, but soft, like a winter's cloud. "And there is no force on this earth that could change that – not distance, nor age, nor time, nor death."
In that moment, Legolas felt the weight of the statement as if it were a physical load, and believed the truth of it with all the certainty of a child. He too felt the wall between them vanish, allowing him to see afresh a man he thought he had known as well as he knew himself. In all their years side by side the man had grown, Legolas now saw, so gradually that even the perceptive Elf had not realised just how much stronger and wiser and kinder he had become. He was Elessar, King of Gondor; Estel, husband of Arwen the Half-Elven; but most prominently to Legolas' heart, he was Aragorn, ever a Ranger, ever like a brother, and ever his dearest friend.
"That being the case, I could not possibly say no to a brother on a matter such as the guardianship of his son, could I?" Legolas said quietly, a small smile dancing on his lips.
Aragorn's eyes brightened with realisation. "You will do it?"
"I would consider it the highest of honours." Legolas replied, bowing his head and allowing a small, luminous smile to grace his features. "May I meet him?"
Following in his friend's wake, his mind still reeled from the idea that he had misread Aragorn so direly, that his usually keen perceptions had been so utterly wrong. How could he ever have thought of Aragorn as anything less than a brother? The mere idea that decades of trailing and traipsing after this man should be rendered insignificant by a simple slip of the tongue was utter folly, and at last Legolas realised it. Such bonds of brotherhood as theirs were not feeble huts to be knocked flat by the first winds of adversity that blew in their direction; united, they were a stronghold, a fortress of stone that stood tall and proud, a beacon of light and life for all who beheld it.
Aragorn pushed open the door, and Legolas followed him inside.
The chamber had already been cleaned, yet the rusty scent of blood still lingered in the air. On the far side of the room stood Miluiel, her auburn hair bright in the sunlight, staring with a faint smile at the figure propped up on pillows against the bed's headboard. Arwen looked just as Aragorn had described – tired, but happy. In fact, there seemed an aura of luminescence surrounding her, as if it were a literal illustration of the warmth she radiated in her exultant state. A few strands of dark hair were clamped to her forehead with sweat, and her skin was chalky but for the bright crimson blush on her cheeks, but she looked well enough to satisfy Legolas' concerns. She gazed down at the bundle of blankets in her arms with a look of sheer, incomparable adoration, only looking up as she heard the two men enter the room. A spark was in her eyes as she exclaimed in a breathy voice:
"Legolas, I am so glad you came! It is beyond joyous to see you."
"And I you." he replied genuinely, with a warm smile.
Miluiel's greeting was less cheerful, as she immediately rushed towards him, huffing angrily.
"I cannot believe your foolishness, to run all the way up here in your state! I would not be surprised if you have torn open all of your wounds, not to mention the damage to your ribs from such exertion." she attacked him venomously, pulling up his sleeve and peeling back the bandages. "Yes, I am right. Who knows how long it will take me to fix this now?"
"Fortunately you have indefinite time ahead of you in which to do so," Legolas returned shrewdly. "Considering the new nature of your employment."
Her fine brows shot up almost comically in surprise, but she quickly masked this under an expression of passive indifference.
"Well, I shall need all the time I can get." she stated matter-of-factly, the corners of her lips tugging into a muted smirk. "But allow me to take a look at – "
"Perhaps later, if you are not too opposed. I did not come here to seek medical consultation, after all." he cut in sharply, sidestepping to avoid her as she reached for the wound on his shoulder.
Legolas ignored her grumbles of complaint, but a moment later heard the door creak as she exited the chamber – to give the proud parents and their chosen guardian a few moments of privacy, he presumed. The Elf approached the bed, a keen eye on the bundle of blankets in Arwen's arms, which stirred every few moments.
"He is perfect, is he not?" she murmured with gentle pride, rocking him slowly.
"He is." Legolas concurred sincerely, finally near enough to see the little figure wrapped in swaddling.
His skin was a flawless, pale pink, his head lightly covered with a dark fluff of hair. The subtle point to the tips of his ears made him smile unconsciously – there was no questioning his resemblance to Arwen. His eyes were closed, his face utterly blissful, and Legolas found himself quite transfixed by watching the blankets rise and fall with his small breaths. Arwen ran her fingers lightly along the child's pointed ears with a shadow of a smile.
"Legolas agreed to be his guardian, meleth nîn." Aragorn interjected softly, joining him by the bedside.
She gave a small gasp of excitement, which startled the baby into a bout of fervent wailing. His mother hushed him hastily, a slightly guilty smile on her features. A moment later the baby fell silent again, and she whispered, cautiously but happily:
"That is such marvellous news! Oh, I am so glad, we could not imagine anyone better suited as a custodian."
Legolas smiled humbly. "The pleasure is mine, I assure you."
"Would you care to nurse him?" Arwen suggested eagerly.
There was no masking the alarm that lit up his face – having just seen the child howl so, he was not keen to be the one to trigger him again - and Aragorn laughed lightly, nodding his encouragement. Legolas could not recall ever nursing a newborn before, and if he had, it had been several hundred years since the event. Nonetheless, with slow gentleness and utter caution he reached out and took the bundle of blankets into his arms, bringing the baby close.
It felt as though Legolas were holding nothing at all, so light was the little creature nestled to his chest. His minute breaths rose and fell, as light and speedy as a bird's. Legolas gently stroked the sleeping child, swaying him ever so gently back and forth.
"Your son will be the treasure of these lands, mellon nin," he uttered softly, looking up at Aragorn. "For surely none that look upon this child could do anything but adore him."
A part of Legolas' mind still reeled from the idea of just how new the child was to the world. He had not yet seen a single day from sunrise to sunset; the Elf had seen millions. The creature in his arms was yet to hear the wind, or taste the water of the stream, or feel the gentle brush of grass beneath his feet. All this and more would arrive in the days and months and years to come, and Legolas' heart fluttered as he realised that, in accepting guardianship of the child, he had been granted the chance to observe and share in his journey. It would be a marvellous thing, he thought, for such old eyes as his to relive all the little intricacies again, and to see experiences given no though for centuries rejuvenated, and made brilliant by the vigour of utter youth.
Suddenly Legolas felt a tugging at his ring finger, and glanced down to find that the baby had seized it with his whole tiny hand, holding it in a surprisingly tight grip. The Elf's face lit up in surprise, and he glanced at the mother and father for clarification.
"He is fond of you already." Arwen offered, laughing lightly.
Legolas stared, transfixed at his sleeping face, still rocking him gently. It was impossible to feel foolish with those tiny fingers wrapped around his, and so he began to murmur gently, so unconsciously and innately that it came out not as Westron, but a quiet stream of Sindarin:
"This day is blessed, little one, for already the world is more joyous for your place in it. Look, see! A star shines on the hour of our meeting, verily."
He had strode across to the windows and looked out upon the landscape as it began to shift from sunset to nightfall. Streaks of honey and lilac and amber blurred together, as if the sky were a vast expanse of fabric stained with a thousand shades of dye. The first stars were faintly appearing, tiny pinpricks of light that caught his Elven eye intrinsically.
"When you are older, you will be drawn to the stars. To the Elves, starlight is sacred, and their blood runs in your veins. They will be your helpers, your guides. And you will need to be guided, sometimes," he added, suddenly solemn. "For even a prince cannot make his way through this wild life alone."
Legolas instinctively glanced across at Aragorn, who sat on the corner of the bed, quietly conversing with Arwen. He saw through their guise at once, realizing that they had deliberately closed their ears to his murmured speech, or were pretending to, at the least. Legolas was deeply appreciative to have been granted such privacy - he was glad of the chance to nurse the child he had sworn to guard, without watchful eyes or prying ears.
"I never needed the stars for guidance, because your adar always granted me that. I was blessed to have him as a friend, and you shall be yet more so to have him as a father." Legolas stated softly. "He may have seen a fraction of the years I have, but he has all the wisdom of one much older. He is not without his flaws, of course – he is reckless, utterly so, and his temper is among the shortest I have ever encountered. But he is strong of heart, and kind, and good. As you will be too, I do not doubt, and more."
"But it shall not be easy. As a prince, you will never have to worry about starving, or seeking out a place to shelter from the rain, or who to turn to for counsel. But you will face trials enough nonetheless – trust me, I know full well that it will be so." he muttered, shaking his head slowly. "There will be darkness and fear and loneliness. But there will also be light, and joy, and love. And those things will make all the suffering worthwhile, I promise you."
The baby wriggled in his arms, and Legolas stiffened in alarm, however the child merely arched his back in an easy stretch. His eyelids flittered open slowly, revealing a set of sharp eyes, the grey of a wintery storm.
"His eyes." Legolas called, heartbeat fastening. "They are just – "
"Like Estel's." Arwen suggested knowingly, giving her husband's hand an affectionate squeeze. "Yes, their resemblance is remarkable, is it not? He is truly his father's son, as well as a son of the Elves."
"Half the blood of Men, and half of the Elves. He is a special creature indeed." Legolas concurred, before bowing his head and directing his speech to the child nestled comfortably in his arms. "There is a word for you in my people's tongue, little one – eldarion, scion of the Eldar."
"Eldarion." Aragorn repeated thoughtfully.
Arwen cocked her head, realising his intentions at once. "Would you not prefer to name him something more traditional in these lands?"
"The names of my forefathers belong to a time passed - they would suit him ill." Aragorn returned, shaking his head.
Legolas' face dawned in realisation; they still sought a name for the child.
"Nay, this is a new age." Aragorn reasoned. "The Eldar are leaving these lands; soon, none will remain to share their counsel. Our child is not an Elf, but he is not entirely a Man either. One only needs look at him to see that he has the blood of the Eldar. And so long as he remains, to tell the tales and histories of his lineage, the Elves can never be truly gone from these lands. They will remain, ever a light in the dark. Do you not think it apt, to name him such a thing?"
"Eldarion." Arwen said softly, testing the word on her tongue. "I do agree, it is a fine name."
"Well, my little prince, it seems you have a title." Legolas murmured gently, and the eyes of pure grey stared up at him with a wide-eyed gaze so sharp and aware that it was almost adult. "Eldarion of Gondor; son of the Evenstar and the Renewer."
"And, do not forget, given charge of Prince Legolas of the Greenwood – or, rather, of Ithilien!" Arwen interjected, before laughing lightly and adding, "What a pair you both shall be."
Legolas' beaming smile came to his face, as naturally as breathing. He glanced across at Aragorn, and saw in him the very image of bliss.
They were, at long last, truly at peace.