83 – The Birth of Hope
Thranduil looked up from the report he was reading with a feeling that something was weighing on his spirit. It was not any particular emotion—-no unease, sorrow, or even happiness—but rather a kind of pressure, as if his spirit were growing inside him and trying to push out.
"Sire?" The steward's voice broke through his thoughts and Thranduil realized he had frozen with a perplexed expression on his face.
"Where is the queen?" he asked instead of answering.
"She was attempting an inventory of the winter stores, my king."
Thranduil hid a smile, imagining how frustrated his wife would be with her belly preventing her comfortably stooping to reach the lower shelves. But that would surely not cause the heaviness he felt within him.
"I believe I must see her," he concluded. He pegged Galion with a considering look, noting the excitement that sparked in the Elf's eyes. "I believe it will be a few days, at least, until I will resume my duties."
Galion's unabashed smile was delighted. He jumped from his seat and bowed deeply.
"I shall inform Lady Anarrima immediately, my king," he stated, his voice calm but his movements brisk as he all but skipped out of the room.
Thranduil soon followed him out of his office door, allowing his instincts to lead him through a few walkways and passages to the winter storeroom.
An elleth dashed around the corner and nearly collided with him. She made to sidestep him, but froze when she realized who she beheld.
"Sire!" She curtsied quickly and gestures behind her. "The queen is within!" Her wide eyes betrayed shock, and Thranduil began to worry. But before he could ask the servant what had happened, she had scampered off in the direction of the healing halls.
"Elluin?" he called, jogging forward, wishing to be reassured.
The sight that met him as he stepped through the open storeroom doorway stopped him in his tracks.
Chestnuts were scattered across the floor, apparently recently spilled, and a stack of ledgers with charcoal sticks were tossed to one side. The queen's clerk, Bronadis, was helping Elluin up from her seat on an overturned crate—apparently the vessel that had held the nuts. Bringing Elluin to her feet was clearly a difficult task, but over as soon as Thranduil reached his wife's side.
"Elluin, are you well?" He looked her over, seeking signs of pain or distress. But she met his concerned eyes with a happy smile, tinged with excitement.
"I am well, fear not," she said, recovering her breath and squeezing his offered hands. "I needed to sit a moment. My body is preparing for birth."
Thranduil released a breath, his suspicions confirmed. "But the anniversary of the begetting day isn't until tomorrow," he noted.
Elluin's face fell slightly in the face of the task before her. "The sun is setting. It will likely be tomorrow by the time we have our child in our arms."
"Well, let us not spend that time here. I would not wish the heir of Greenwood to be received on a bed of chestnuts." Their smiles were wide as Thranduil carefully lifted his queen into his arms and bore her to their chambers.
His heart clenched when, twice on the journey, Elluin's face scrunched in pain and quiet moans escaped her. He dared not speed his steps for fear of jostling her, and as she had said, there was no rush. He found it disheartening to know that his beloved's pain was only just beginning. Thranduil wished that he could take the pain away somehow. But this was, he knew, a battle his wife had to win alone.
She would not be without aid, however. As they entered the royal chambers, a flurry of healers were already bustling about, preparing the space for the birth. Lady Anarrima and Gwedhil were directing everyone, Naudeth and Edlenel included.
"Elluin," Anarrima said with a welcoming smile as Thranduil set the queen on her feet before his aunt. "How far apart are your pains?"
"They have become regular, but not so close together as yet," Elluin answered calmly.
"Very well," the older elleth said, "how would you like to pass the time? Shall someone read to you? Are you hungry?"
Elluin looked around and moved determinedly to an armchair. "Whatever we do," she murmured, "I must rest for a while."
"Forgive me," Anarrima interjected, "I must ask you to endure a slight to your dignity." She draped a lined cloth over the chair Elluin had selected before helping her down onto it. "Just in case your waters break," she explained casually. Thranduil pulled another chair closer to her for himself, perching on it somewhat awkwardly and feeling entirely out of his depth.
"Aunt," Elluin commented wryly, "I have witnessed only a few births in my time in the healing halls, but based on what I've seen, I assure you that my dignity is the least of—" She gasped and gripped the arms of the chair.
"Breathe through it," Anarrima coached. Her eyes shifted to Thranduil. "Nephew, stroke her back slowly. Elluin, try to match your breaths to the rhythm."
The Elvenking jumped at the chance to be in any way helpful, and did as his aunt suggested, finding that he and Elluin both seemed to take some comfort from it. Her hands relaxed several moments later, and she blinked up at her husband. "Shall we have some music?"
Thranduil had hardly finished speaking Maethon's name when the servant's head poked past the door. At the king's order to enter, he lost no time in approaching and kneeling before the couple, excitement and concern fighting in his eyes and threatening to overcome his stoic expression.
"What can I do?" he asked Elluin. The king's frown of displeasure went completely ignored.
The queen smiled at her friend, leaning back in the chair. "Is your harp close at hand?"
Maethon's face brightened, and he disappeared without waiting for Thranduil's consent, shortly returning with his instrument and wasting no time as he began a calm but cheery melody sometimes heard among the Silvans.
Thranduil decided to forgive his servant for his lapses in decorum in service to his queen. He decided to enjoy the moment, and watched Anarrima, Gwedhil, Edlenel, and Naudeth assemble at a respectful distance behind Elluin's chair, having ushered everyone else out. He knew there was still a battle to be waged, and it was good for the troops to take rest when it could be had.
The song was nearing its end when there came an insistent knock on the door. Edlenel rushed to open it, speaking briefly to the person outside before turning with an apologetic look to the king.
"Sire, Lord Galion is insistent that he must speak with you," she informed him. He knew her to be loyal to Elluin. That she was not annoyed at the apparent interruption made Thranduil think that perhaps this was a worthy enough matter. He kissed Elluin's forehead encouragingly before reluctantly leaving her side.
Galion met him at the door with the same bright smile with which he had last seen him. But now, instead of ledgers, he held a cloth-wrapped parcel and a folded piece of parchment.
"My king, a messenger has just arrived from Lorinand. I thought the message best delivered now."
"Nothing urgent?" Thranduil asked immediately, even as he reached for the parchment.
"There is nothing amiss, sire," Galion soothed quickly. "But it appears that these items may be…imminently useful."
The Elvenking's mind whirled with sudden worry despite his steward's reassuring expression. He knew Galadriel had the gift of foresight. Had she foreseen danger during the birth and sent some sort of intervention? He should not have worried.
"To the Elvenking and Elvenqueen of Greenwood the Great, warm greetings.
The whole of Amroth's court send their fondest regards and best wishes for an easy transition for the royal family as it grows. I have prepared a vial of oil from the blossoms of the mallorn trees that have taken root so abundantly in Lorinand's soil. May the scent serve you well during the birth and the early days of the little one's infancy.
The swaddling cloth is of my own making. With all my grandchildren grown, it is long since I have been moved to weaving and working cloth—forgive this clumsy attempt, wrought with love.
May Elbereth's stars shine brightly upon you.
Galadriel"
Thranduil dismissed Galion with an absent murmur of thanks and took the parcel, shutting the door. He found as he turned that Elluin was coming out of another birthing pain. Maethon had abandoned his harp and was holding her hand.
"How it hurts me to see you suffering so, my friend," the servant told her softly, his eyes warm.
"I am told I shall forget all of it as soon as the child comes," Elluin said wryly, her own voice weak after the exertion.
"My grandsire has said that is usually the case, yes," the ellon said with a smile. "And I know my love for the babe will overshadow my resentment at it for causing you this pain. But still, I prefer to see you happy."
Thranduil saw a wave of emotion overcome her, and she could not fight a sudden stream of tears. It was certainly a jumble of apprehension, love, and gratitude, for that was what he felt inside his own spirit as it continued to strain against the confines of his body. "I am happy," she confessed.
Suddenly, Elluin gasped and reached for Maethon's hand again. The normally quiet ellon spoke a gentle stream of encouragement as her low hum turned gradually into a muted scream. Thranduil was at her back before he even knew he had moved, repeating the motions as he had been told.
The tension eventually drained from the queen again, and she sighed.
"I think it is time to move you to the bed, my dear," Anarrima said happily. As everyone moved about to follow the directive, Thranduil opened the parcel. The healers realized quickly that smelling the oils would offer calm and a distraction from the pain for their patient, and suspected that it would serve to soothe the baby as well, once it came. The blanket left everyone silent in awe for a brief moment with its beauty. The cloth was as soft as a rose petal, a muted gold in color, delicately embroidered in patterns of bright yellow flowers and green leaves. Thranduil rather liked the idea that his child would soon be wrapped in the forest.
~.~.~
Thranduil contemplated the waterfall from near the edge of the small cliff that overlooked it. He felt the mist settling gently on his face, and readjusted the sturdy weight on his shoulders to a more comfortable position. The roaring of the falls drowned out most of the sounds of the surrounding forest, but he sensed someone humming a short distance away. The droplets from the falls made the air around him glitter as they reflected the bright midday sun, rendering small rainbows near the pool at the bottom.
His burden squirmed against his neck and pulled on the hair behind his ear, making him wince.
"I want to go, Ada!" a sweet voice announced right above his head.
"You will stay here with me, Legolas," the Elvenking returned easily, finally swinging the little writhing body down from his shoulders to cradle it in his arms.
He looked down into blue eyes, the same icy hue as his own, with his mother's nose beneath, scrunched up in protest. "I want to touch the water!" the prince of Greenwood cried, pushing against his father's chest with chubby arms.
"We will climb down to the pool later, my son. Right now, your mother wishes you to eat." He grinned conspiratorially at the elfling he held. "I think she brought walnut bread."
Joy spread across the elfling's features at the prospect of the food that was his and his father's favorite, making Thranduil chuckle. Legolas tugged now at his father's sleeve, ineffectual though the gesture was, and urged him on with eager words.
Elluin sat up from where she had been laying with eyes closed in the grass, greeting them with a smile. Their midday meal was peppered with questions from the young prince, patiently answered by his parents.
"Nana, why were you closing your eyes before we ate? Were you taking a nap?"
"No, Legolas. Sometimes, if you close your eyes as you listen to a waterfall, it sounds just as if you are beside the sea."
"What's the sea?"
"It is water, like the lake where your ada takes you fishing, but there is so much of it that you cannot see to the other side," Elluin explained dramatically. "And the servants of Ulmo make waves that roll up in great hills towards the shore, sometimes taller than the tallest trees, that come crashing down in a white foam with the sound of thunder."
"That sounds scary!" her enthralled audience piped up. "Why do you want to hear that?"
"I grew up beside the sea, and I like the sounds of my first home. And we Elves have no need to fear the sea. Across it lies Valinor, where we will all eventually meet again."
"Are you leaving?" Legolas cried in dismay. Thranduil caught himself wondering about the answer to the question, a hint of dread seeping into his mind as he contemplated his wife. But Elluin laughed and wrapped her son in her arms, pulling him close.
"No, my dear little one," she said. "My greatest wish is to stay with you and your ada forever."
Elluin met Thranduil's eyes over their child's golden head. Even in the handful of years since Legolas' birth, whispers of shadows had begun in the south of the forest. They both knew that the days of bliss they now enjoyed would not last forever. The Elvenqueen's expression became somber.
"But Legolas, we do not always know what the future holds," she continued. "Sometimes if terrible things befall us, our bodies and our spirits become separated, and then our spirits go to Mandos' halls. But if that ever happens to me or your ada, then you can sail across the sea to find us again as soon as you wish."
"I would go to Valinor right away," Legolas declared, tiny hands set on his mother's shoulders in youthful gravity. "I don't want to be far away from you."
Elluin smiled at him indulgently, and Thranduil knew she thought of their son's frequent attempts to escape their guard. "You have a piece of my spirit inside you, Legolas—and your ada's. No matter what happens, we will never be completely apart from you. So if you want to stay here in Middle Earth to enjoy it a while longer before you come to us, we would understand."
Legolas looked distressed at this idea. "No! I would go right away!"
"Well, all the better for me," Elluin quickly acceded, hugging the elfling against her again. "For I love having you near me."
This pacified Legolas, and he soon clambered off his mother's lap and resumed his meal. But Elluin had noticed the sudden cloud of doubt that had made its way into Thranduil's eyes. He reached out his hand to her and she took it readily, shifting closer to sit beside him. Then she sang, her simple tones barely rising above the roaring of the falls a stone's throw away, but the words echoing in his spirit as he knew they did in their son's.
*By the Sea, by the Sea! The white gulls are crying
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying
West, west away, the round sun is falling
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
But for now, I will stay, for woods restore me
For our days are happy and our years merry
I will eat the wild honey and the berry
Green are the leaves in the Greenwood swinging
Sweet are the voices of the Silvans singing
Beneath the oak, the ash, and the birch trees growing
Elves spurn the ocean whose hearts are still glowing
* Adapted from Tolkien's "By the Sea" poem, spoken by Legolas in the Return of the King as he contemplates his fate after healing the gulls as Galadriel prophesied.
A/N: There will not be much time spent on our favorite Elvish princeling in this fic, as he is not central to the storyline beyond this point. Prepare for further time jumps.