Chapter 18: For Our Children (Legolas & Co)

(~***~)

c/w: minor allusions to sex; discussion of pregnancy & miscarriage

(If the heartfelt stuff is not your preference, I ask for your forbearance for this chapter & the next. After that there will be more balance with the adventure/action type scenes again, promise. Legolas and his dad have been through some tough stuff. I'm going to throw them a few bones in this book – some happened to come close together at this moment.)

(~***~)

The weeks began to pass swiftly as the company fell into a routine. Following Farren's census route, they traveled together, staying in way stations between towns at night. Legolas was frequently pulled into the crowd of men, receiving their fond cheers of 'Northman!' with amusement. His ability to hold his drink had doubly impressed the men on the night of the duel. As they saw many of the same merchants from station to station on their way to the capital, his new reputation traveled with them.

Due to Legolas's popularity, the elves gained the benefit of an easy flow of information, so it had been a fruitful fight in the end. The more he learned about the King, the unhappier it made Legolas, for Aragorn's descendant was not nearly as great as his noble friend had been.

The King was a strong leader, yes, but he was also known to be impulsive, petty, and wrathful at perceived slights. His obsession with having a male heir was causing political strife as he fought the powerful Order of the Faithful over the idea of divorce – all while he ignored his two talented and legitimate daughters. To see the line of Elessar fall so far caused Legolas grief. [1]

During the days the elves would go into the markets to trade horses, while Farren and his men spread out to count citizens. Amity followed 'Elsё' around like a puppy, thoroughly enjoying the marketplace under the watchful eye of one of Farren's guards and the elf-men.

The fact that Lossrilleth had some limited healing knowledge had come to be known, so she began to carry a kit for treating basic wounds and ailments. She was no Elrond, but in many of the places they traveled there were limited options for medical care, so what she could offer was useful nonetheless. All this contact was increasing the elves' skills in the New Westron language rapidly.

The company was close to the capital when Lossrilleth noticed Amity shifting uncomfortably in her saddle as they packed up to leave the market. Just the day before, she had confided in Lossrilleth that she'd had a spot of blood in her undergarments for the first time in almost three months. Above them, dark clouds threatened a nasty thunderstorm. When Farren and his men met them to travel to the next way station, Lossrilleth took him aside.

"My lord, we should stay at an inn tonight. I don't think Lady Amity is well. The rain won't help," she said, gesturing to the ominous sky.

"I don't wish to speak out of turn, but I fear for her and cannot be quiet," Lossrilleth continued, to which Farren nodded with concern. "Your wife is pregnant. I fear she could lose the child. It's common in the early months – not dangerous usually, but sad."

Farren's eyes widened as he looked over at his young wife. A grimace passed over her face. He nodded at Lossrilleth and Legolas, looking somber. The perils of pregnancy to women were well known in these times. He took them seriously.

"I thank you for speaking plainly. I'll find us an inn immediately," he said, about to stride off to give orders.

Lossrilleth stopped him, saying, "I will go to the apothecary. This is more than I know how to treat. Leave a man here to give directions to the inn, we'll come and meet you." Farren agreed and left to make arrangements.

When Legolas and Lossrilleth finally arrived at the inn, Farren was pacing in front of the tavern fire while his men ate quietly. When he saw Lossrilleth enter, he rushed to her.

"I brought her some food and told her to try to sleep, but I don't think she'll listen," he told the healer.

"I need my kit," Lossrilleth replied. "I'll give her the medicine the apothecary suggested, then you should stay with her. Keep her calm and happy. Where are our things?"

Farren gestured for them to follow him and showed them their room.

"Lady Amity is three doors down to the left, I'll wait for you there," Farren said.

"Where is my brother?" Legolas asked. He wanted to make sure he knew the location of everyone in their party.

"He's staying in the dormitory with the guards," Farren answered. "He wished for the two of you to have some privacy. I haven't seen him look so melancholy before." Farren paused, not wanting to overstep. "Does someone wait for him at home?" he asked.

Legolas and Lossrilleth nodded 'yes' sadly, which confirmed Farren's suspicion. He felt for the Northerner. Then Farren walked purposefully down the hallway to keep Amity calm and happy, as he had been told.

Lossrilleth rooted through her kit, putting together a concoction that was meant to shut down any early contractions. She hoped the apothecary knew what he was talking about.

When she had everything she needed, she fished one more thing out of the depths of her pack. She brought it to Legolas, who was sitting on the bed, and told him,

"I am going to do what I can for the girl. Once she's settled I intend to relish this gift your father has given us," she gestured to their small, private space.

She placed the package she had taken out of her bag in his hands, unwrapping the oilskin to reveal a delicate silk scarf of his mother's and a bottle of her perfume.

"Your mother asked me to give this to Thranduil when the strain of their parting began to show. I cannot imagine the pain of his separation. But he is your father, not mine. You give it to him," she encouraged Legolas.

Legolas felt unsure. His father had never responded well to attempts to offer him care in the past. It had been the cause of some hurt to him as a child. But there was no doubt that Thranduil was not as cold as he had once been. Perhaps he would accept this care that Legolas's mother had so carefully prepared for him, anticipating his need for it. He wondered if it wouldn't be better coming from an elleth than him.

"I… will try," he replied. She kissed him on the cheek and left, focused on tending to her charge.

Legolas found a servant of the inn and asked him to bring his 'brother' to the private room. If his father was to be open to this at all, it could not be in front of a handful of human soldiers. When Thranduil arrived, he found Legolas poking at the room's little fireplace to see if it was in working order.

"You called for me - is all well?" Thranduil asked, unsure of why he had been summoned.

"Lossrilleth is tending to the woman. She will return when she has done what she can. Thank you – for this," he said, looking around the small room.

"You should be together. A few feet can feel like a hundred leagues when there is an audience," Thranduil said kindly.

"I do not know how you did it, for all that time after naneth died," Legolas admitted. "There are moments I have wondered if these bonds we form are a gift or a curse. Lossrilleth is never out of my awareness anymore. To be parted from her now would be like losing a limb, or worse."

"Time will help," Thranduil reassured his son. "Two hundred years of marriage is still little in the life of an elf. Wait a thousand and it will be easier. You still have a child that depends on you both as well, that certainly makes it harder. There is a reason we elves do not have children in times of conflict – separation in their youth is too damaging. As you and I both know," Thranduil added with a grimace.

To himself he thought returning to Valinor with Angharad would help more than time ever could. Legolas had suffered more than his share of partings with those he held dearest. Thranduil was not surprised that his son had developed an outsized fear over losing his spouse. She was the only one left who had never been ripped out of his hands.

Legolas looked away from his father. He wondered if they would ever address the painful time they had shared after his mother's death.

"I do not worry about either of them in Valinor, I cannot wait to return there," Legolas said. "But here… perhaps I wish to protect Lossrilleth so fiercely because I can do nothing for Angharad. There is nothing between them and the horrors you and I both know are here in Middle Earth."

Thranduil nodded sagely, touching his spirit to his son's to offer comfort. "The safety of the Western Havens was my solace after your naneth died. She was secure in the hands of Mandos and – I hoped – returned to her kin, beyond peril."

Legolas stood before his father, holding the precious package in his hand. His fёa touch gave Legolas hope that he would not run from what was offered.

"We see that you suffer, too, Adar," he said. "Look at what our ladies planned for your benefit… Lossrilleth has had it hidden in her pack all this time."

Legolas offered the oilskin to Thranduil, who opened it, fighting the urge to deny his need for such comforts. He was trying to be softer, but he still did not relish being vulnerable in front of his eldest. Too much had passed between them. This was his only child who had seen his bitter days as the lonely king of Mirkwood, and who had been a subject under his command. He wanted to offer Legolas more, but he had imagined this going only one way. The old king's eyes glittered as he looked at the scarf, stitched with their initials in his wife's neat embroidery, and the small glass vial wrapped in it.

"Open it," Legolas encouraged him. Thranduil carefully removed the stopper. The small room filled with the unmistakable scent that his wife had worn for thousands of years. He fought the tears that threatened to escape his control and forced himself not to stalk out or make some angry gesture to keep his son from seeing his sadness.

"I remember that smell from your chambers when I was young, though I did not know what it was," Legolas said. "She is waiting for your safe return. My mother loves you." After a long pause Legolas added, "As do I, ada. As I always have, even when you had to be my king first and my father second."

"I see her in you now, ion nin," Thranduil replied, making an effort although his heart squeezed painfully. "I did not know how to for too many years. I regret it."

"We have a long future ahead of us still. Waste no more time on regrets for things that cannot be changed. Let us be friends as well as kin," Legolas offered. He was amazed at what his father was sharing now. He was amazed Thranduil was still in the room and not halfway across Gondor well into a bottle of strong wine.

But Thranduil was not yet finished surprising his son: he did something then that was strange in elvish culture between two grown ellyn. He embraced Legolas, as he might have when he was still a small boy. Legolas was immobile with shock for a moment before he warmly returned the gesture, feeling truly touched.

Here was the father from whom he had grown. There had been long years when Legolas and Thranduil had been alone in their connection, each trying to face the terrible pain of an early sundering. It was an evil fate that Legolas was to experience such a thing twice in his life.

Although the old king had not given as much as he now wished, he had not failed entirely to support his child with his spirit. No one could claim that Legolas had been stunted. That task was what had kept Thranduil from fading and following his wife into death. It had given him strength then, which he recalled again now. For Legolas, and for Angharad, he could endure.

Embracing for the first time in thousands of years, Legolas's better memories of his father bubbled up in his mind. After the first shock of his mother's death, he could recall long hours Thranduil had stolen from state duties to foster Legolas's young passion for archery. On many clear, dark nights, the king had excused himself from the court to join his son on their favorite terrace to watch the stars rise.

Legolas could remember Thranduil listening to his triumphs and troubles on that balcony – tales that became more serious as the years passed. The advice and support he'd received went beyond what a ruler or even a teacher would give to a young captain. The first time an elf under Legolas's command had died in a skirmish, it was his father, not his king, who sat with him through the long night of his grief. It was good to recall those moments, scattered as they were along millennia where commands outnumbered conversations.

The two parted, hearing Lossrilleth returning quietly down the hallway. She waited outside the door, for she did not want to interrupt. Thranduil prepared to leave, pausing in the doorway to raise the gift so Lossrilleth could see it.

"Hanon le," Thranduil said to her, bowing. All three elves' eyes were just a little wet.

"Do not grieve all night," Thranduil said to them. "Be together. Your love is young and bright. Feed it. It will keep all of us strong. Your daughter most of all." He retreated to the dormitory, where he continued reading the history book he had borrowed - his lady's favors tucked into his tunic, close to his heart.

"That felt like something special," Lossrileth said as she and Legolas sat down next to each other the bed.

"It was, it really was. I am grateful to you and to my mother for that. Perhaps there is hope that we can be better friends to each other yet," he replied.

Lossrilleth hummed, feeling joyful. "I wish that for you both," she said.

"Now, muin nin …" Legolas began after they had sat in comfortable silence for some time. He was determined not to waste the only night of privacy they had had in far too long.

"I would like to make good use of this bed with you while we have it," he whispered into Lossrilleth's ear, enjoying the shiver that ran down her spine.

(~***~)

In the morning Lossrilleth disappeared to look after Amity. Legolas wandered into the inn's sitting room, which held their small collection of books. Legolas looked up and saw Farren standing in the doorway watching him. Apparently his presence wasn't needed for this examination, either.

"Finding anything interesting on that bookshelf?" Farren asked politely.

"Ah, yes," the elf said, holding up a small leather book entitled The Kings of Gondor. He'd been trying to look at Aragorn's lineage when the man had arrived. "But never mind that. How's your wife?"

"I think things seem better, but I'm not a healer and certainly not a midwife," Farren said with a helpless shrug. The man's emotions were running a little high under all the stress, and before he could think he heard himself adding,

"She's afraid and upset, I think, but she tries to put on a brave face. I don't know what help to offer."

Legolas blinked at this admission. He was not sure how to respond. He did wish to offer some word of kindness – it had been a confidence and he would not want to make Farren feel badly for it.

"What lifts her heart?" Legolas asked, trying to keep things as vague as possible.

"You mean, gifts like flowers or trinkets?" Farren asked, surprised that the frequently quiet swordsman had replied at all.

"Do flowers and trinkets make her happy?" Legolas asked. "When is she happy?"

Farren was taken aback by this deceptively simple question. What did he know that made Amity truly happy? He did not have time to reply before Lossrilleth joined them in the sitting room.

"Well, nothing is worse. Things seem a little more stable. I must say, Farren, I know your census route will take at least three more weeks – but aren't we very close to Minas Tirith now if you were to travel directly? It would be better if she could stop traveling and riding horses so much." Lossrilleth said, skipping the niceties.

Farren confirmed this – going directly, it might take three or even five days, depending on weather and means of travel.

"I will go and see if I can arrange for a carriage," Farren said. "Would you follow us, or will you miss too many markets?"

Legolas and Lossrilleth looked at each other. The most important thing was to find this Masterson in Minas Tirith. They needed to keep up appearances, but surely they could find some excuse that would be believable.

"We'll follow you if we may," Legolas replied. "If we can, we would take your offer to help us search for the man called Masterson. We urgently need to find him."

Although Farren would be returning directly to his census duties after delivering Amity to her aunt, he agreed to introduce the company of Northmen to his contacts in the census office. It was the best lead the elves had had since Anfalas.

(~***~)

Early the next morning, the company was packed up and ready to go as the carriage Farren had hired rolled up to the inn. After some begging by Amity, Lossrilleth had agreed to ride in the carriage with her.

As the ladies got settled, Farren finally rode up to the group, looking like he had been rushing. He was carrying a basket they had not seen before.

"My apologies if I've kept you, I had one last errand," Farren explained. "Lady Amity, I would ask you to take care of this," he said, pointing at the basket. "You haven't yet seen our apartments at the palace yet, and I'm embarrassed to say that our pantry has a little bit of a mouse problem. But I've found a solution."

Amity looked confused. "Mice in the pantry?" she asked. "He never told me that when he proposed," she said to Lossrilleth, trying to let humor cover up her husband's strange behavior.

Farren handed the basket carefully through the door of the carriage, saying, "Be careful when you open that. You might want to keep the door closed."

Moments later everyone outside heard a squeal of delight from the carriage. Amity popped her head back out the carriage door, her hand firmly on the basket lid. Her face was plastered with joy and surprise.

"For our house? Really?" she asked in glee. "Can I name them?"

Farren chuckled, happy that his plan had worked. As she got back into the carriage and they set off, Farren rode up beside Legolas.

"Good question, friend," he said, tipping his hat in thanks.

The elves had all heard that there were a pair of kittens in the basket long before Amity had opened it, but Legolas had not been able to fathom why Farren would bring a pair of cats on a three-day journey until he had seen Amity's reaction. It was going to be a little inconvenient, but it was worth it if it lifted the young woman's spirit so much. It could be a great help to her health.

"Good answer, it seems," Legolas replied with a grin. He was pretty pleased with himself over this. He'd actually managed to help.

(~***~)

In Minas Tirith, everything moved very fast. The elves' new friends needed to get on with their lives.

Amity said a tearful goodbye and was whisked away by her aunt. The aunt insisted on paying Lossrilleth for her healing services, as she believed her niece should be above consorting with foreign merchants on the road and wanted to staunch any rumors. (Though she felt significantly more generous towards the pale Northwoman after the palace healer examined Amity and said she thought the foreign healer had likely prevented the loss of the baby.)

Farren introduced them to his friend in the census office, who compiled a list of known 'Mastersons' living in Minas Tirith at his request. He then rushed back out of the city, trying to appease the King's likely displeasure by returning to his task without delay.

For the first time in weeks, the elves were alone with their horses. Farren's friend had tipped them off to a competitively priced stable yard where they could board them for a few days while they scoured the city for Mastersons. On the third day, they managed to find Eaben's uncle. Unfortunately, he was not very helpful.

"That little shit?" Uncle Masterson scoffed, "Oh aye, he came through. Asking for money of course. Whining about the cost of travel, going on and on about the Lake Town and all. Never put much stock in that story – can't see we ever been anything but servants, us. Said something about a kid but it's not my problem. I sent him on his way. Never liked me sister anyway…" The man had told them, slurring his speech as he was already drunk before the evening meal.

But that was just enough information that the elves were determined to make the time-consuming journey up to the Long Lake. They had been in Middle Earth for months and traveled almost a thousand miles, making good time on the public roads that crossed the Southern lands. Now they had more than a thousand miles still before them again, this time through lands where no public roads went. Things would only get wilder as they went north. Thranduil and Legolas both privately had mixed feelings about going so close to Eryn Lasgalen – or Mirkwood as it had been known for much of the time they had lived there. [2]

(~***~)

Footnotes:

[1] The royal family in this kingdom is (very) loosely based on King Henry VIII of England. If you're a big history buff – yes, I know – this storyline and the other one are not pulling from contemporaneous sources. The year equivalency here is roughly ~1530s.

[2] I have tried very hard to understand the distances and reasonable travel times (by foot and by horse) in Southern Gondor based on Tolkien's maps and some references from both the books and PJ movies. Forgive me if I'm off in some way. Geography is not my strong suit.