Chapter 45: Just for Now

c/w: battle memories, trafficking discussion, grief

(~***~)

November

Legolas looked up from the crinkled, sun faded map in his hands and let out a sigh of frustration. In a little more than two months they'd covered less ground than they had in a few weeks when they'd been sailing around the Eastern continent. After long talks with the few men from the Collector's crew who'd gladly thrown off their chains and joined the Sanghamitra as full contributors, the elves had reluctantly followed the coastline of the Southern continent closely, well past the entrance to the canal, until they felt the wind and tide change directions.

The experienced sailors had been adamant that trying to cross the sea closer to the mouth of the canal was a recipe for disaster: swirling tides left far too many impatient ships becalmed, sometimes only to be found months later right back at the oasis island full of corpses. Back at Temple Mountain, he'd hoped they would be approaching Belfalas by now. Instead, they were only now rounding the shoulder of the middle continent, perhaps another week from entering the canal itself.

He was more grateful than ever that they'd brought Abel along, for any hope that they would be able to venture to Aglarond was long gone. He knew Lossrilleth was unhappy that they'd seemingly been given a time frame that would only raise their hopes, but without any chance of success, but she'd been cautious to speak her mind to anyone but him, and in the quietest voice possible. She'd had enough reprisals for being too opinionated.

He glanced across the beach, checking on Angharad and Ginnar before anything else. The months following the Collector's defeat had been difficult for all of them, though not without reprieve. With their ship packed tight with five people and a cargo of necessary provisions, they were now stopping almost every night, just so everyone could stretch their legs properly and get some real rest.

Legolas had continued bringing Angharad out for some kind of exercise, but in the weeks after the council about Ginnar's future she had been subdued. Gone was the joyous explorer she'd become before the incident. He'd never seen her look older. He'd even preferred the child who'd devolved into tears like she was toddler again when they'd finally found her at Temple Mountain – this new sadness broke his heart. More than once he'd slowed down just as the first sounds of their camp began to hit his ears again and walked back with her in silence with an arm over her shoulders. Together, he and Lossrilleth would give her sadness their full presence until she started to ache a little less.

Still, he'd been relieved when Lossrilleth had called he and Angharad together after two weeks of her sullen behavior and staged an intervention.

"You are missing the time you have left with your friend by mourning his loss too soon," she gently admonished Angharad. "You must do as mortals must do. Cherish every moment as if it is your last together. Share every laugh you can share before they are spent. Yes?"

Angharad had shrugged and glanced at Legolas, looking for his opinion. "Your mother is right about this," he told his daughter. "There is no way to love mortals except to love them in the moments you have with them."

So she'd tried. Over time, her sadness waned and took its place in the background: a base note that would have its moment in the song of her life – but not just yet. Legolas had been relieved to see her re-emerge, even showing a curious Abel what she'd learned from the Brothers at Temple Mountain after he'd caught her practicing forms on the beach one morning.

Legolas had been worried about Abel joining them, but it had turned out better than he had expected. Unsurprisingly, Abel and Lossrilleth got along wonderfully, for she was entirely willing to join both him and Ginnar when they tried to ease the awkwardness of their proximity with humor. What Legolas had not predicted was that Thranduil had given in and supported her efforts on occasion – just enough that he and Abel were comfortable in each other's presence, though never close.

There had been several sticky moments in which the old king had rolled his eyes at one jest or another, until Abel had made a snide remark, clearly feeling defensive for being judged. Over his head, Lossrilleth had shot Thranduil a meaningful look.

The ancient elf appeared to acquiesce to her admonishment, turning to their guest and saying in exaggerated loftiness, "Master dwarf, it is simply not our way to engage in such personal jests. I could comment about your height, but it is beneath me."

Thranduil looked down his nose at Abel meaningfully. The old king understood the humor, he just thought it was undignified. But for the sake of harmony, he supposed he could indulge it occasionally. They weren't back in Valinor yet.

Ginnar frowned in concern, but Lossrilleth snorted in surprise. She looked at Abel, who hadn't decided how to take that comment yet.

"If my Lord Thranduil's height is the measure we must use, I wonder what his wife must think, to learn she is so far beneath him," Lossrilleth jibed back.

The older dwarf looked up at the elves and slowly started laughing. He looked at the confused faces of the two children and Legolas and laughed even harder. He gave the tall elf a small bow of appreciation.

"Your jest was too clever, good sir. It went over their heads," Abel told Thranduil, who let himself smirk in return as the old dwarf guffawed. Ginnar finally got it and chortled along with Lossrilleth, who shot Thranduil a grateful smile for his efforts.

What was more, the old dwarf had not been lying about the effects of his age. He was not yet feeble or crippled, but he got up slowly and stiffly enough in the mornings that they knew he was in pain. Lossrilleth, as discretely as ever when it came to such personal matters, found a private moment to speak with Abel about what kind of medicine dwarfs might prefer for aching joints.

"Heat," he'd said dryly.

From there on out, the young mother found every opportunity she could think of to place the old warrior in the full, blazing sun of these Southerly lands – or else put some hot coals in a tin wrapped in a blanket for him. They found the aged warrior was more than happy to spend hours half-asleep in the sun with a fishing rod in his hands, though he woke quickly enough if his line began tugging.

When he was awake the children would not leave him alone. Well, Ginnar would not leave him alone, and Angharad followed Ginnar everywhere these days. The boy would laugh heartily through every raucous adventure of the river trading clan he could eke out of Abel. But sometimes Legolas caught him looking at Lossrilleth or Angharad and the happiness Ginnar seemed to feel to be in the presence of his own kind again would ebb for a moment.

Legolas also heard the dwarfs' hushed conversations in the dark about the trials of their people. Ginnar's strategic young mind turned the issues over and over until Abel would admonish him to go to sleep already. Human settlements pressed in everywhere. There had been half a decade of lean winters. The dwarfs had spent much of the savings in their treasuries buying food they might have hunted for if not for the danger of being kidnapped in the process: not good when they needed to be building up strength of arms and political influence to stop the growing trafficking problem. No, even Ginnar's gladness was not unmarred.

Legolas had had no heart left to address his father's growing tension over their approach to Mordor. He wasn't happy about it, either. He'd said as much to Lossrilleth during one of their shared night watches, in which she'd expressed concern about Thranduil's wellbeing. To his relief, his wife took on supporting Thranduil almost singlehandedly. Legolas watched the two of them scratching their heads over a tricky chess match one evening and realized, to his surprise, that his wife and his father had become friends during this journey.

It was early evening, now, and the children were helping Abel tend to a fire with fish roasting over it on skewers while the old dwarf told them a yarn that had both children giggling in appreciation. What a welcome sight that was!

Legolas looked back at the map, then out at the water that stretched between the island beach they'd chosen and the mainland, his brow wrinkled in thought.

"Muin nin," Lossrilleth said, approaching him from behind and wrapping her arms around his waist. "You have been looking at that map since we pulled ashore. What puzzles you so?"

"There is some kind of note scribbled next to this bay. It might be nonsense, but I think it is a riddle," he admitted, gesturing for his wife to join him and look at it.

"The eyes of the bay are on its bottom," she said, reading the scratchy writing quizzically.

"What did you say?" Ginnar said, looking at her with surprise. He appeared to be suppressing a grin.

"What?" Lossrilleth asked, confused. Ginnar snickered into his hand.

"Ginnar, what?" Lossrilleth cajoled him. She'd take any laugh she could get from them. There was plenty of heaviness going around already, they could use the break.

"You said bottom. Its eyes are on its bottom," Ginnar said, starting to catch the giggles. Angharad was looking at him as blankly as the other elves. Abel rolled his eyes.

"In Westron bottom can mean the bottom of something, like a bucket, or a lake, or it can mean… the bottom of…" Ginnar snickered.

"It means arse," Abel said matter-of-factly.

Thranduil and Lossrilleth still looked confused. Angharad started giggling along with Ginnar. She'd spent too long on the Collector's ship not to know that one by now. Legolas, who'd been employed as their inside man in the way stations of Gondor, caught Abel's gaze and returned the eye roll, although he was smiling at the children's enjoyment.

Legolas turned to Lossrilleth and Thranduil, translating dryly. "It means buttocks," he explained.

"Ah," his wife replied with a chuckle. "The eyes of the bay are on its buttocks, that does sound silly," she commented lightly.

Thranduil shifted his gaze over to the children, who'd devolved into helpless laughter on the sand when Lossrilleth had said it again in Sindarin. He shook his head, but he had to admit it was enjoyable to see them having fun.

"I still do not know what it means," Legolas told Lossrilleth.

"Perhaps take it literally," Thranduil suggested, "The tide is low. There are a few more hours of light left. Dive down and look at the ocean floor if the mystery plagues you."

"Yes, ada, go and inspect the bay's bottom," Angharad said with a snicker. Ginnar snorted before he gave Legolas a nervous glance – elves might find this kind of humor offensive, he remembered, trying to get himself under control.

Lossrilleth started laughing lightly with them. The infectious joy spread from both his wife and his daughter until even Legolas was smiling broadly.

"Yes, ion nin. Do go and inspect the bottom," Thranduil said smoothly, fully knowing what he was doing. There was a time not so long ago when his three younger sons would have found this hilarious coming out of their ancient father's mouth. As expected, Angharad gasped and stared at him, then she and Ginnar guffawed raucously.

"Well, I think I will," Legolas said proudly. "It seems like a sort of curiosity, does it not? Will you join me, Lossrilleth? You are the healer among us. This bay might need your attention."

"Well, I do not see what I could do for such a deformity, other than sew it some special trousers, but I will gladly take a look with you, my love," Lossrilleth answered.

The children were laughing so hard tears ran down their faces and they clutched their stomachs. Abel followed along with a gruff chuckle while he turned the fish over again. The elves really hadn't turned out to be a bad lot.

With hearts lighter than they'd felt in some time, Legolas and Lossrilleth stripped down and waded into the salt water. Legolas led them out into the deeper part of the bay the note had been scribbled on. Gesturing to Lossrilleth that she should follow, he dove deep into the water. When they reached the bottom, he looked through the water at his wife and shrugged. It didn't look like anything special – sand, rocks, seaweed, fish, shells…

Lossrilleth wrinkled her brow and, before they swam for the surface again, she filled both her hands with the mussel-like shells that littered the ocean floor, gesturing that he should do the same.

When they breached the surface with a gasp, Lossrilleth swam swiftly towards the nearest rocky outcropping.

"Slow down! What are you hurrying over?" Legolas said, only a little exasperated.

"The eyes of the bay are on the bottom, Legolas! Think about it. Maybe you will guess by the time I know if I am right," she teased.

Legolas was still trying to catch up when she pulled herself up on the rock and began pounding mussel shells against the stone, one after another. On the fifth try, she found what she was looking for.

"Pearls! They are pearl oysters!" she cried in triumph, showing Legolas the shimmering orb resting on the shell's fleshy pink tongue. "We have been getting short on funds, this will make things much easier," she said happily, banging more shells on the rock.

Legolas pushed his shells towards her and turned in the water, trying to judge how long the tide would stay low enough that they could reach the bottom.

"It is better than that," he said, a wide smile beginning to bloom on his face. "Between you, me, and Adar, we may be able to harvest enough pearls before the tide turns to help the dwarfs out of the rather desperate situation it sounds as though they are in."

Lossrilleth gasped. "You are brilliant! I could kiss you!" she cried.

Legolas chuckled. "Another time. Let us call my father out and see what we can do for our friends."

Lossrilleth's smile fell for a minute. She did not relish leaving the children on the beach with Abel.

"The others should bring the dinghy out," she said as she followed Legolas back towards the beach. "We can throw the shells in the boat and the children can start cracking them. Let us not waste the meat – we can dry it out over the fire tonight. I know Abel is still quite a fearsome warrior when he needs to be, but if I am being honest, his age plagues him more than he likes to let on. Why invite disaster yet again?" she thought out loud.

"Look at you, being the voice of caution," Legolas teased her, making sure his appreciation showed through clearly. She beamed back at him, swimming close enough for a moment to let their bare arms bump.

The adult elves spent nearly just over two hours diving to the bottom of the bay, then dumping sacks of oysters into the dinghy before the tide had come in enough that they could not reach the bottom before they had to turn around and race to the surface for air. Angharad had pouted when they wouldn't let her try diving, but Thranduil had tasked her with keeping an eye and ear on their things left on the beach, with a firm reminder that a good soldier must sometimes do their fair share of important, unglamorous work.

Back on the beach, the company sat around the fire, triumphantly cracking open oysters, ooh-ing and ah-ing over pearls, setting shellfish to smoking, and chatting, giddy with the excitement of their find.

"What will you do with all this wealth in your Valinor?" Abel asked Legolas as he pried another pearl out of a shell. The old dwarf had been tallying up their spoils in his head, starting to get impressed. Pearls were very rare gems, after all.

"Oh, most of this will not be coming with us," Legolas told the old warrior.

"We will only keep as much as we need to repay our sponsors and finish out the journey," Lossrilleth agreed. "That is not a third of what is here."

"The rest is for you two, and for your people," Legolas told the confused looking dwarfs sincerely. "I hope it will make a difference to you in your fight against the evil you have been suffering of late."

Ginnar looked at Lossrilleth with wide eyes. "You did this for us?" he asked the elf lady with awe.

"Do not give me the credit. It was his idea," she told Ginnar warmly, gesturing to Legolas. Abel stood stiffly and gave Legolas the deepest bow he could manage. Ginnar stood up and grabbed the elf in a tight hug. Legolas returned it, managing to look only a little bemused.

(~***~)

November into December

Lossrilleth was grateful for the improved mood in the company as they entered the Canal of Nurn. Between their luck with the pearls and the complexity of maneuvering through the canal, their attention turned away from what would happen when they reached Gondor, to her great relief. The work she'd been doing to increase her presence in the fëa sense left her wide open to the raw heartache both her husband and child had been suffering, in addition to her own. It had been painful.

The canal itself was a channel only wide enough for one tall ship or two smaller ones, requiring those in smaller ships to pull into side locks frequently to allow larger ones to pass through. The wind was going in the wrong direction, too, so they had to pull in their sail. The adults had to take turns rowing in pairs.

Lossrilleth would have liked to spare Abel, but he would not hear of it. Once he was warmed up, his background navigating rivers became clear: he was good at steering the ship, and he still had plenty of strength to put into rowing, so long as he got some rest on the other side of it.

By the time they arrived at the Sea of Nurn, the winter solstice was upon them. With the task of fording the canal behind them, Thranduil's distraction from his dread over the prospect of traveling through Mordor was gone. The first night after they'd left the canal, the old king had nearly growled at Angharad when she'd looked at the deepening twilight and asked when they would be pulling ashore. Legolas had intervened and pointed out that they would, in fact, have to land at least once before they could leave these lands. Thranduil had nodded tersely, clenching the muscles of his jaw and isolating himself from the rest of the company.

Lossrilleth gave Legolas a pointed look, letting him and Abel find them a place to land and deal with the children. Her husband had been clear that he would rather not take on this particular problem, for Angharad had been leaning heavily on him for comfort lately. She had been asking many questions about Gimli – how long he'd lived, whether he'd struggled as Abel sometimes did before the end. Lossrilleth felt it was only fair that she take on seeing Thranduil through his challenge.

When the company had pulled the ship onto land and begun their well-worn routine of unloading cooking gear and sleeping rolls, Thranduil stood stiffly in the prow staring Northeast in a trance, his skin tinged with gray.

Lossrilleth approached him cautiously, reaching out a tendril towards him. A horrifying vision bloomed behind her eyes before Thranduil snapped his mind shut. The young mother took in a shuddering breath, her every sense shocked with the assault of that memory: the sounds of screaming and metal clashing; the metallic smell of blood fighting with the stench of filthy bodies and mud; her vision had been filled with blood, snarling faces, a dark sky filled with flying terrors… and grief. So much grief as the memory had passed over the vision of Oropher, bloodied and sightless on the ground with countless hundreds of Silvan warriors.

"You should not have seen that," the old king said more harshly than he intended. "Before this journey you had never even witnessed a tavern brawl – you are much too tender to witness the evils of Dagorlad."

"I have seen more than you know," Lossrilleth said quietly, wiping a few surprised tears from her face, then resting against the gunwale so she could watch her father-in-law, still distant and grim. "And if I had never seen a fight before, it is because I fled from many before they began, for I did not care to witness them. But battles are not the only scenes of terror and grief."

Lossrilleth carefully placed a hand on his forearm, gripping it with determination when he moved to flinch from her touch.

"Thranduil, look at me. It is the fourth age of this world, not the second. Look at the land – this is not Mordor as it once was. Look at our little company. Not one of us lived at the time that pains you so. Do not drown in the past – there is a present here that is much kinder. Your people are safe in Valinor. Your family is here with you, in part at least, and we love you and need you."

Thranduil dragged his eyes from the horizon and looked at Lossrilleth. She squeezed his arm, offering the support of her own spirit, if he would take it. The memory had surprised her, but she had not recoiled from him as he would have expected. He felt as though the evil grime of that day still dirtied his soul; he did not want it to touch this young elleth, who had become as much a daughter to him as his own back in Valinor. What she'd just said, about seeing more than he knew, wormed its way into his mind.

"It is not strictly true, is it? That not one of you lived then. Where were you – Elizabeth – in the second age of this world?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the onslaught of violent memories that threatened to overwhelm his mind.

Lossrilleth's eyebrows pressed together. "I cannot say, exactly. Up there, I think, although time was difficult to judge then," she finally said, gesturing upwards towards the stars winking above them in the dark sky.

"And what was it like, up there?" Thranduil asked her. She chewed on her lip, feeling a little unsure of whether this was forbidden topic.

"I would ask you about what you witnessed that you think could hold a candle to such a battle, but I do not wish to know of more horrors. I cannot stop thinking about my own already," he added quietly. Lossrilleth was trying to offer him a lifeline. For all their sakes', he tried to take it.

Please stop me gently if I am wrong. I cannot see the harm. I do not want to die, Lossrilleth thought in a cautious prayer. "I understand. Do you wish to see the stars instead?" she offered.

Thranduil took the invitation, allowing her in to show him memories of long stretches of nothing, punctuated by visions so fantastic they took away his breath. But in her memories, she did not feel amazed. Interested – curious, perhaps. Nothing more.

This was helping turn him away from the memories he'd been dreading so persistently as they approached the Sea of Nurn. His apprehension had cultivated them into specters stalking him from the shadows. Now that he'd stepped out of them for a time, they seemed less monstrous. It was only a few memories – among how many? There were hundreds of thousands of other days he could remember just as clearly, most of which were not nearly as terrible.

"You could not feel – after you died there and before you came here, could you?" Thranduil asked Lossrilleth, thinking over the strange memories she'd shared with him.

"No, you have to be alive to feel. I was not really alive, in between. I just… existed," Lossrilleth told him. He looked her over in the fëa sense. She seemed like a normal elf to him. This was reminding him that for long while, she hadn't been.

"Do not miss your life, Thranduil. It is happening right now," his daughter-in-law told him kindly.

For once, Thranduil felt like the young one. It occurred to him that the strange course of events she'd survived might account for the surprising strength of heart Lossrilleth showed on occasion.

Finally, he nodded back to her and gathered himself to leave the ship. His nerves flared again as he stepped foot on the soil of this most hated land, Mordor. But nothing happened. It was just a small beach, like any other in Middle Earth.

(~***~)