Chapter Thirty-Two: Bonds of Trust
This is a very controversial chapter. While I welcome all sorts of opinions and comments, please be friendly and polite.
️ ️
Faramir took another deep breath as he and Aragorn waited in the Council Chamber for all the Councillors to settle into their seats. Last night, Aragorn asked him to call all the Councillors for a meeting to discuss the fate of the traitors' families. The Steward hadn't thought Aragorn would call for a meeting so soon, believing it would take a few days at least to find a middle-ground solution. He was shocked when Aragorn had requested the meeting, saying he had already found a solution.
As the seventeen Councillors took their seats, Aragorn cleared his throat, looking at them with confidence and authority. There was no hesitation in his bearing, though Faramir could feel the weight of the moment bearing down on both of them.
"My Lords," Aragorn began, his voice firm. "I asked for this meeting to discuss the matter we left pending yesterday—the fate of Lord Mortardur and Lord Bonirun's families. I understand the reasoning behind the servitude law, and to that effect, I have a suggestion that ensures continuity of the law's intent without resorting to such extreme measures."
The room was silent, with every Councillor's eyes fixed on Aragorn. The tension was palpable; Faramir could feel the anticipation building as they waited for the King's proposal. He knew the Councillors would be wary, especially after the shock of betrayal had already unsettled their trust in one another.
"I acknowledge that the law serves a purpose—to prevent any possibility of rebellion or treason from the families of those who betrayed the realm," Aragorn continued, his voice calm but unyielding. "However, I believe condemning women and children to servitude is not the only way to achieve this goal. Instead, I propose placing these families under the care of trusted relatives loyal to Gondor."
Murmurs broke out among the Councillors, a mix of surprise and skepticism. They exchanged cautious and doubtful looks before Lord Vorondo, ever the traditionalist, leaned forward, his brows furrowing in distrust.
"You wish to place traitors' kin with their families and trust that will suffice?" he said. "What guarantee do we have that these relatives will not foster resentment and rebellion?"
Aragorn met Vorondo's gaze steadily, his posture unwavering.
"There are no guarantees in life, my Lord. But I propose placing them with those who have proven their loyalty to Gondor, those who understand that they are not only sheltering these families but will be responsible for their welfare and conduct. This way, the families will be under close watch without feeling that they are punished for crimes they did not commit. In addition, being raised in a household loyal to the Crown will positively influence the children of those families."
"I don't mean to sound like one who dwells in shadow," Vorondo said as his frown deepened, suspicion clouding his features. "But after the betrayal of two of our own, I find it hard to trust anyone anymore."
"While caution is essential, My Lord," Aragorn responded firmly, "we must not lose our reason by questioning loyalty without the slightest cause for suspicion or proof. I'm confident there are still many loyal families in Gondor who will support this effort. And I will give you full liberty to choose those families if you want."
Lord Calemir, one of the more progressive voices in the Council, nodded.
"His Majesty is right," he said. "His suggestion could preserve the spirit of the law while tempering its cruelty. But how do we ensure these already embittered families won't still harbour dangerous thoughts?"
"We will choose the guardians carefully," Aragorn said. "Relatives or families loyal to Gondor will watch over them closely, ensuring they do not become a threat until you, as the Kingdom's Councillors, deem them no longer a danger to the realm."
Faramir could see the logic in Aragorn's compromise, but he also saw the doubt in the faces of many of the older Councillors, those who had lived through wars and betrayal.
"And what of those who cannot be placed?" Vorondo asked, breaking the silence again. "What would happen if those families have no loyal relatives willing to take them in?"
Aragorn hesitated. This was the most challenging part of his proposal—the one he had hoped wouldn't come to pass, yet he had to be prepared for. His heart sank as he considered the possibility that some families would be left with no other option.
"Then we will look for other suitable families to take them in, even if they weren't relatives. If no suitable guardians can be found," he said gravely, his voice quieter but still resolute, "then those individuals will, regrettably, face the fate dictated by the law. They will serve Gondor in penance for their kin's betrayal. But this will be the last resort after all other options are exhausted."
A murmur rippled through the room, and the weight of that concession hung heavily in the air.
Faramir could feel the gravity of the decision in his chest. He knew this was the part of the law Aragorn had hoped to avoid, but even a King could only change so much in one sitting. Faramir's mind drifted momentarily to thoughts of his father. He could almost hear Denethor's voice echoing in his mind—swift and harsh, sentencing families without a second thought, viewing mercy as weakness. Aragorn was different, more measured, and willing to spare the innocent. But that compassion was considered dangerous amidst these hardened men of Gondor's Council.
"Very well," Vorondo said at last, though his voice was skeptical. "If this is the compromise you present, let us see if the loyal families of Gondor will accept this burden. We shall proceed as you suggest, my Lord."
"In that case," Faramir interjected, "the final sentencing will need to be postponed until we determine the fate of these families."
Aragorn nodded, though the weight of the decision settled heavily on him. He was doing what he could to spare the innocent, but the coming days would determine whether his plan would succeed—or if he would have to condemn them to a fate he wished to avoid at all costs.
As the meeting concluded, Faramir couldn't help but glance at Aragorn, seeing the tension in his posture. Against all odds, a compromise had been reached, but the actual test lay ahead. Would Gondor's noble families step forward to bear such a task, or would they shy away from the burden of harbouring people stigmatized with treason against the Crown, even if they were innocents?
If they did not, the worst parts of the law would have to be enforced, and it would fall on Aragorn's shoulders to carry out those sentences.
"Faramir," Aragorn said as the room emptied, his voice low and steady. "I want a list of all the relatives eligible to host the families of Lord Mortardur and Lord Bonirun. Also, I want a report on the state of the families of the condemned servants and another list of all the individuals living in the lands of the two Lords. I want to go through them before the sentencing."
"Yes, my Lord," Faramir replied, bowing slightly.
As he left the room, Faramir couldn't help but feel the weight of what was to come. This was only the beginning. And soon, they would have to face the most brutal truths about the loyalty of Gondor's noble families.
️ ️
After the meeting, Aragorn took a solitary walk in the Elven garden, seeking solace and quiet among the golden and silver trees that shimmered softly in the fading light. Like the Elves who had designed it, the garden offered a serene sanctuary, a place where one could find peace amidst nature's gentle embrace. Winter had begun to withdraw, and though the chill still lingered in the air, small signs of spring's arrival were visible—buds on the branches, faint whispers of new life awakening beneath the surface.
Aragorn's heart felt heavy despite the quiet beauty around him. The compromise he had proposed to the Council hung over his thoughts like a double-edged sword, and though the meeting had ended without a direct conflict, he knew that the real challenges still lay ahead. Finding families willing to take in the relatives of traitors was a complex task, and even with the best intentions, he could not guarantee success. The King moved silently through the trees, his boots making soft imprints on the cool earth as his thoughts drifted. He had always found comfort in places like this—where the sounds of the world faded away, leaving only the soft murmur of the wind and the rustling of leaves. The Elven garden, a gift from Elrond and Galadriel, had become a haven for him. It reminded him of the peace that the Elves cherished, a peace he desperately sought in his own heart.
His mind wandered back to Legolas. Despite the warmth they had shared the night before, Aragorn still sensed a lingering unease in their bond. The Elf had offered his support, but Aragorn knew that telling him about Vanëanis and her son—about the possibility that he would have to condemn them to a life of servitude—was not a burden he was eager to place on his husband. Aragorn stopped beneath a tall silver tree, its leaves shimmering like starlight. He leaned against its sturdy trunk, closing his eyes and letting the cool breeze wash over his face. How could he tell Legolas and explain that despite all his efforts, there might be no escape from the cruel laws of Gondor?
He had promised to shield his husband from more pain, but now, it seemed that pain was inevitable. Aragorn's body tensed when he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw Legolas standing before him, his presence quiet yet commanding as always. The Elf's expression was unreadable, but his blue eyes softened as they met Aragorn's.
"I met Faramir in one of the corridors," he said. "So I knew the meeting ended, and I didn't want you to be alone like yesterday. Your emotions are raw through our bond, so I followed. This garden holds peace for both of us, doesn't it?"
Aragorn gave a small, tired smile, nodding in agreement.
"It does. More than I can say."
Legolas stepped closer, his gaze searching Aragorn's face as if trying to read the emotions that lingered beneath the surface.
"You seem troubled. More than usual. What weighs on you, Aragorn?"
Aragorn hesitated but knew he couldn't keep this from Legolas any longer. Not when the Elf could already sense the heaviness in his heart. He let out a slow breath, gathering his thoughts.
Seeing the troubled look in the man's eyes, Legolas was reminded of yesterday's incident when the man refused to confide his troubles to him.
"Aragorn, don't you trust me anymore?" He asked.
The man looked up at his husband with a surprised look.
"Of course, I trust you, Legolas!" he exclaimed. "Why would you think that I don't?"
Legolas sighed as he averted his eyes away, looking at the beautiful scene created by the sun rays filtering through the golden and silver trees.
"You're troubled by a heavy burden," he said quietly. "Yet, you didn't confide in me when I asked you yesterday, and you're not confiding in me now. How do you want me to feel when I sense your burden and you refuse to share it with me?"
Aragorn felt a pang of guilt as Legolas spoke, his husband's words touching on the very struggle that had been twisting within him. He had hoped to shield Legolas from the weight of his responsibilities, thinking it was a kindness. But in doing so, he was only deepening the distance between them.
"Legolas, it's not that I don't trust you," he began, his voice soft but heavy with emotion. "It's the opposite. I trust you more than anyone in this world. But the burden I carry...it's not one I wanted to place on your shoulders. I didn't want to see you hurt again, especially after everything you've already endured."
Legolas turned back to Aragorn, his expression serious yet touched with sadness.
"And do you think keeping this from me spares me pain?" he asked quietly. "You forget, Aragorn, that we are bound by the friendship we forged long before marriage. I stood by your side through battles, through darkness and despair. Why would you think I would not stand by you now in this?"
Aragorn's shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he felt the weight of everything pressing down on him even harder. His father's words about his relationship with his husband rang through his mind. He had always seen Legolas as a source of strength, someone he could rely on, yet in trying to protect him, he had closed himself off. Aragorn stepped closer, reaching for Legolas' hand, his grip firm and full of the love he felt.
"You're right," Aragorn admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been so caught up in trying to protect you from the pain I feared would come from the decisions I have to make that I forgot the strength of our bond. I forgot that you are not just my husband but my friend—someone who has never faltered, even in the face of the most difficult truths."
Legolas squeezed Aragorn's hand, his gaze softening.
"We've been through too much together for you to try and carry this weight alone. Please share it with me, Aragorn. Let me help you, as I've always done."
Aragorn took Legolas' hand and guided him to a nearby bench.
"Legolas, there is something I must tell you," he began as they sat on the bench, his voice soft but heavy with emotion. "It concerns Orophin...and the Elders' judgment on him."
Legolas' brow furrowed, concern evident in his expression as he waited for Aragorn to continue.
"The Elders have decided to banish him to Mordor," Aragorn said gravely.
Legolas' breath caught, and his eyes widened with shock.
"Mordor?" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly as the weight of that name sunk in. "Exile to Mordor? That is...that is a death sentence."
Aragorn saw the hurt in his husband's eyes and gently squeezed his hand.
"Yes. I know it is harsh, meleth nîn, but the Elders believe it is the only fitting punishment for his betrayal."
Legolas turned his gaze away, processing the enormity of what he had just heard. He had seen a glimpse of the darkness of Mordor with his own eyes. The thought of anyone, even Orophin, being cast into that place stirred a deep sorrow within him. Despite everything, Orophin was still Haldir's brother—Haldir, the brave warrior Elf who gave his life defending Middle-Earth. The thought of his brother suffering in the darkness of Mordor stirred conflicting emotions in his heart—grief, anger, and helplessness.
"Exile to Mordor...it seems too cruel," he murmured. "No Elf could survive there. Orophin, despite what he has done...He is Haldir's brother, someone who stood beside us in the fight for Middle-earth. I never imagined his fate would come to this."
"I understand," Aragorn said gently. "Believe me, I do. Your father and Glorfindel wanted to sentence him to death."
"Death would've been more merciful!" Legolas whispered bitterly. "At least his soul would find peace at Mandos' Halls."
"Orophin is no longer an Elf," Aragorn said. "You must've seen it. He had lost his Elven Light. Lady Galadriel says his soul won't be accepted at Mandos' Halls!"
Legolas inhaled sharply, the weight of those words hitting him harder than any physical blow. He had noticed the absence of Orophin's Light, but it hadn't fully registered until now. The loss of an Elf's Light was a fate that meant more than death—it signified a complete fall from grace, a severing of the very essence that connected them to the natural world, to the Valar, and to life itself.
"I know it's hard," Aragorn said softly, his own heart heavy with the weight of it. "to accept that Orophin had lost his Light or accept the Elders' sentence."
Legolas looked down, processing the profound loss that washed over him. He remained silent, letting the wind carry the weight of his thoughts. His compassionate heart ached for what had been lost—for Orophin's fall from grace and the painful choices they now faced.
"Can't he be locked somewhere instead?" Legolas asked.
"No realm will accept his presence on their lands," Aragorn replied. "Only Mordor will accept his dark soul."
"I wish there had been another way," he said finally, his voice steady, though his sorrow was evident.
"As do I," Aragorn replied quietly.
Legolas' shoulders relaxed slightly, his mind turning toward understanding rather than pure anger. But he still sensed that there was still more weighing on Aragorn.
"Is there something else troubling you?" Legolas asked after a pause.
Aragorn nodded.
"Yes...There is a law in Gondor that condemns the immediate family members of convicted Councillors to a life of servitude."
Legolas blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Servitude? For the families? For the wives and children?" His voice trembled with both outrage and confusion. "How can such a law still stand?"
"I know," Aragorn said, his voice low. "It is an ancient law, rooted in fear of rebellion. I disagree with it, but the Council—"
"The Council?" Legolas interrupted, his voice rising. "Aragorn, you are the King. Surely, you could overturn such a law? Innocent people...children...they should not suffer for the crimes of their fathers."
Aragorn's hand tightened slightly on Legolas', his voice calm but filled with regret.
"I tried, Legolas. I argued with the Council, but they would not budge. I offered a compromise instead—"
"Compromise?" Legolas hissed. "What kind of compromise could you make with such a barbaric law?"
"Those families will be placed under the custody of relatives loyal to the Crown," Aragorn explained. "They will be cared for by their families and remain under our watch to prevent rebellion. It is not a perfect solution, I know. But for now, it is the best I can do."
Legolas looked away, his emotions warring within him. He could feel Aragorn's love and deep sense of responsibility, but the thought of compromising with such injustice gnawed at his heart.
"You should not have to compromise on your principles," Legolas whispered, his voice heavy with sorrow. "These people...they are innocent. They don't deserve such punishment."
Aragorn stepped closer, cupping Legolas' cheek gently.
"I know. And I will work to change the law. But for now, this is the only way to protect them."
Legolas held Aragorn's gaze for a long moment, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He knew Aragorn's intentions were just, but the thought of innocent people being bound by such a cruel law gnawed his conscience. There was a lot to take in—Orophin's exile, the injustice of the law, and the harsh reality that even a King had limits. After a moment, Legolas gently pulled his hand away from Aragorn's, his expression conflicted.
"I... I need time to think," he said quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty. "I cannot understand this...not yet. I know you've done what you can, but accepting such a compromise is difficult for me."
Aragorn's heart sank slightly, but he nodded, understanding the internal conflict Legolas was grappling with.
"Take all the time you need," Aragorn said gently, though a hint of sadness lingered in his tone. "I wish I could offer more than compromises right now, but this is what I can do."
Legolas nodded, though he avoided Aragorn's eyes for a moment. His heart was heavy with emotion, and he knew he needed time—time to reconcile his values with the harshness of Gondor's laws and to accept the problematic choices Aragorn was forced to make.
"I'll find you when I'm ready to talk more," Legolas said softly, his tone distant but not cold.
He stood, pausing for a moment as if considering what more to say, but instead turned and quietly left the garden, leaving Aragorn standing alone beneath the shimmering trees.
Aragorn watched his husband disappear into the fading light, his heart heavy with the weight of their unresolved conflict. He knew Legolas needed space to process everything, but the distance between them at that moment felt like another burden he could not lift. For now, all he could do was wait and hope they would eventually find a way to understand each other.
️ ️
Thranduil listened intently as Legolas poured his heart out, his words filled with frustration and confusion. The younger Elf paced back and forth in his father's chambers, his normally calm demeanour replaced by a rare display of agitation. He spoke of Gondor's laws and Men's governing system that forced a King to go against his principles and compromise and the injustice of punishing innocent families for the crimes of their kin.
'Adar, how can such barbaric laws still exist? How can Aragorn agree to such a compromise?' Legolas stopped pacing, turning to face Thranduil, his blue eyes searching his father's for answers. 'I don't understand. He is the King, and yet it seems the will of the Council binds him. I thought he would stand firm, but instead, he…compromised.'
Thranduil regarded his son calmly, letting the storm of emotions subside before speaking. He knew that navigating the complexities of mortal laws and politics was a challenge for Legolas. His son had always valued fairness and justice, and he struggled with the idea of compromising those principles.
'Legolas,' Thranduil began in a measured tone. 'You are not wrong to feel the way you do. The idea of condemning innocents to servitude is abhorrent to our kind. But you must understand—ruling a Kingdom, especially one such as Gondor, is not as simple as standing on principle alone."
Legolas frowned, his frustration still evident.
'But why should anyone have to compromise on their morals, Adar? Aragorn is a good man, a just man. Why can he not simply overturn this law?'
Thranduil rose from his seat and walked to where Legolas stood. His hand rested on his son's shoulder, and his gaze was steady.
'Because a ruler must navigate not only his own beliefs but the beliefs and traditions of those he governs; otherwise, it would cause rebellion. Gondor is like any other Kingdom; its customs and laws are rooted in its history. Men's laws, unlike ours, are often bound by fear and mistrust.' He paused, letting the weight of his words settle into Legolas' mind. 'Aragorn cannot rule as we would in our Elven Realms. The structure of ruling differs. His position is delicate because his Council wields some influence and power, and to defy them outright could lead to unrest, even rebellion. That does not mean he agrees with the law, but as King, he must balance what he believes is right with what is possible to achieve at the moment. His compromise is a way to balance between his council's demands and his principles.'
Legolas' expression softened slightly, though the conflict in his heart remained.
'But how can he—how can anyone—govern while keeping such cruel laws intact? Is it not a ruler's duty to protect the innocent?'
'It is,' Thranduil nodded. 'And that is why Aragorn has not given up. His compromise, though imperfect, is his way of protecting them—for now. There are times when a ruler must accept small victories while fighting for greater change. Aragorn is not abandoning his morals. He is trying to work within the constraints of his position, to bring about justice in a way that will not tear his Kingdom apart.'
Legolas' frustration dimmed, but a question still lingered in his mind.
'Have you ever had to compromise, Adar? Have you ever had to bend to such unjust customs?'
'Yes, Legolas. Many times,' Thranduil's face grew contemplative as he answered. 'There were moments when I, too, had to temper my own will and beliefs to maintain peace or ensure the survival of our people. Ruling is not like wielding a blade in battle. The battlefield is clear—there is an enemy and a victory to be won. But in courts, things are not so black and white in governance matters. The role of a King is different from that of a warrior.'
Legolas listened closely, sensing the wisdom in his father's words but still grappling with their weight.
'A warrior fights with the sword, with a clear plan and purpose,' Thranduil continued, his voice steady but laced with the experience of centuries. 'A King, however, must fight battles of a different kind—subtle ones, fought not with weapons but with words, patience, and strategy. These battles are no less important, and often, they are far more difficult. A warrior faces enemies; a King faces choices. And those choices are rarely simple, rarely as clear as right and wrong. To rule, you must often tread the grey spaces, balancing what is right with what is possible.' Thranduil's hand squeezed his son's shoulder gently. 'In ruling, there are no perfect solutions, Legolas. There are only decisions—some easier than others, but all carry consequences. What matters is that you do not lose your sense of right and wrong. Your morals must guide you, even as you navigate through customs and laws that challenge them. Don't you remember, Legolas? When we learned about your pregnancy, we both had to compromise to keep your child, right?"
Legolas looked down, taking in the words with a quiet, reflective air. His anger had cooled, but the weight of the situation still hung over him. He respected his father's wisdom, and he knew he understood the burdens of leadership better than most.
'I wish things were simpler,' Legolas admitted softly. 'That we could just do what's right without compromising.'
Thranduil's expression softened.
'We all wish for that, ion nîn. But remember, even in compromise, you can hold onto your principles. Aragorn is trying to protect those he can, and he has not abandoned what he believes in. He is navigating a difficult path, just as all rulers must.'
Legolas exhaled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.
'Thank you, Adar. I needed to hear this.'
Thranduil gave his son a rare, soft smile.
'You are welcome, Legolas. Take time to think, and when you are ready, speak with Aragorn again. He needs your understanding as much as you need his.'
Legolas nodded, the weight in his heart a little lighter, though the situation's complexities still loomed. He would take time to think and reflect on his father's words. When the time came, he would return to Aragorn, ready to face these challenges, understanding that ruling a kingdom was never as simple as right and wrong.
️ ️
Legolas found Aragorn sitting quietly in their chambers, his gaze fixed on the flickering fire. The weight of the day's decisions seemed heavy on him. Legolas paused in the doorway, his heart aching with the distance that had grown between them. Legolas crossed the room and sat beside his husband. The silence between them felt charged, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was as though they were both waiting for the right moment to speak.
"I spoke with my father," Legolas finally said, his voice quiet.
Aragorn nodded but didn't respond, giving his husband a space.
"He helped me understand," Legolas continued, "that as a King, you must make difficult decisions that aren't always clear…that not everything is black and white."
Aragorn turned to him, his grey eyes soft but filled with the burden of the day's events.
"I'm glad his words helped you," he said gently.
Legolas hesitated, his voice softer now.
"But what about Vanëanis and her son? What will happen to them if no one takes them in?"
Aragorn sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"If no one takes them in, the law requires they become servants. I will try to find another way, but if it comes to that, I'll make sure they are placed under our protection."
Legolas tensed, the frustration bubbling up inside him.
"So they'll still be condemned if no one will take them in?" His voice was sharper now, filled with both anger and sorrow. "How can that be justice, Aragorn?"
Aragorn winced at the pain in Legolas' words. He knew this was not the solution either of them had wanted, but he had to face the reality of the situation. He took a deep breath, knowing this moment was critical.
"Legolas, you have every right to be angry. I don't want them to suffer either," Aragorn said. He paused, his voice softening as he looked into his husband's eyes. "But I need you to trust me. I want to trust that I will never allow them to be mistreated."—Legolas blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the shift in tone—
"Do you still remember Strider, Legolas?" Aragorn continued. "The man you stood beside, the man you trusted to lead you through dangers? The man who earned your respect and friendship before he ever earned your love?"
Legolas' breath hitched. He remembered those days—when Aragorn had been just Strider, the Ranger, long before they were married, the man he had trusted with his life long before crowns and titles had come between them. Memories of their quest together flooded back—the battles, the nights spent in quiet conversation by the fire, the unspoken bond that had grown between them. They had faced hardship before—not just as lovers but as friends, comrades-in-arms, bound by something more profound than any vow.
"I'm still that man," Aragorn said, his voice steady and sure. "No matter what title I bear or role I play, I am still your friend, the man who will fight to protect those who need it—the man you trusted to lead you through battles and quests. I promised you then, and I promise you now—I will not let Vanëanis and her son suffer. If they must serve, they will be protected. I will make sure of it."
Legolas' breath caught in his throat. The truth in Aragorn's words pierced through the fog of his anger. This was the man he had trusted through countless dangers, the man who had always stood by him when it mattered most.
"I trust you, Aragorn," he said softly, his voice steady once more.
Aragorn cupped Legolas' face with one hand, his expression softening into deep affection.
"Then, together, we will see this through. I won't let you down."
Legolas leaned into the touch, his heart settling into the familiar comfort of their bond.
"And I'll stand by you, as I always have."
Aragorn smiled, pulling Legolas into a gentle kiss.
"Thank you," he whispered against his lips.
When they finally pulled apart, they sat together silently, their hands still intertwined. At that moment, it wasn't the King and his Consort who sat by the fire but two old friends who had shared countless trials and would face many more together.
️ ️
To Be Continued…
️ ️
What do you think?