Chapter Eight
The Storm
It was no easy feat to reach Legolas
after he set out from Lossarnach, in distance or in thought.
Aragorn and Gimli left Lossarnach shortly
after the former prince of Mirkwood had read the contents of that ominous
message, determined to be at his side no matter how terrible the outcome
he faced when he arrived home. The king had paused long enough to tell Faramir
to follow and it was almost a day later when the contingent of Rohirrim cavalry
finally ended their pursuit to join them. Upon departing from Lossarnach,
Legolas and his elves kept up a relentless pace to reach Eden Ardhon. Despite
Aragorn and Gimli leaving only a short time after the elves had set out,
it took man and dwarf, the better part of the night to finally close the
distance between them.
Legolas spoke little during their journey
to Eden Ardhon and Aragorn who had known the elf for the better part of his
life, grew increasingly fearful at how Legolas
would be if they arrived at the colony and found the worst had transpired.
He knew what Legolas feared even more than the destruction of the colony
and could not blame the elf for his selfishness because in his place, Aragorn
would feel the same. Legolas feared for Melia and the possibility of her
death. Aragorn knew no matter how much Legolas tried, the elf could not reconcile
himself with the fact that in a shorter time than
he could imagine, he would lose his wife. Despite the joy of their togetherness
in the present, Aragorn could see the sliver of sadness in Legolas’ eyes
that dreaded the day when he and Melia would be parted.
Aragorn dared not imagine his wrath if
they returned to Eden Ardhon and found Melia harmed in any way.
They could see the storm gaining momentum
behind his eyes. It grew with greater intensity each league closer they journeyed
towards Eden Ardhon. All that held it in restraint was the desperate hope
that they would not arrive there too late, that Eden Ardhon could be saved before the Easterlings fell upon it. The hope was in vain, they all knew it. In some capacity,
Aragorn was certain that Legolas knew too but his heart and soul was too
terrified to admit it. Aragorn prayed for his sake
that they were all wrong, that they would arrive at Eden Ardhon and find
it, as it always was, the growing elven heart of
Unfortunately, it was not meant to be.
Even before they arrived at the community,
the evidence of the calamity that had befallen it was evidenced in the charred
remains of many great trees. The forest had survived
the scourging by fire, thanks to the timely rainstorm that had occurred during
the course of the battle. However, the damage was
considerable and would take years to restore completely to its former glory,
more rapidly still if the elves would lend their considerable skills to the
task. The Rohirrim who have never travelled this far south but were familiar
with the great wood of
Legolas said nothing as they rode through
the paths that led to Eden Ardhon although the effect of the destruction
upon Nunaur and the others was evident by the grief in their expression.
No one attempted to speak as they crossed the distance to Eden Ardhon. Their breaths had been stilled into abated silence, heavy with anticipation of what they would
find when they reached their destination. Aragorn and Gimli flanked Legolas
during the final leg of this journey, certain in their hearts that they would
be needed to tame the storm that would erupt once they arrived at the colony.
The colony still stood but its ordeal
was visible in the charred remnants of some buildings and the others that
had been despoiled by ash and smoke. There was a grey pall over everything
that could have been the lingering mist of the rain but felt as if the starlight
had been driven from the realm of the elves. The gloom
that greeted the new arrivals was so thick that it could be sliced through
with a knife. Even at the return of their lord, the elves did not appear
very animated. Their shoulders still sagged with the burden of what transpired
and their gaze bore the look of haunted sorrow.
When the travellers finally dismounted
their horses, it fell to Elendurfinë, another of Eden Ardhon march wardens to inform his lord of the tragedy that
had befallen them. The tall, fair-haired elf was still covered in ash and
dirt. If it was possible for an elf to lose his lustre, Elendurfinë certainly proved it for he
looked exhausted and shaken. It was a fact that did not escape Legolas any
more than it had the rest of the company who were hiding their shock by how
worn this beautiful and ideal raced appeared to be. Many of them had been
raised from childhood to look upon the elves as a magical race personifying
the wonder of Middle earth. To see them in this manner was almost desecration.
“What happened?” Legolas asked quietly
as he strode towards his home, with Aragorn, Faramir, Gimli and Nunaur in
tow, determined to see Melia first.
“The Easterlings, my lord,” Elendurfinë
replied softly. “They invaded the wood armed with mumakils and fire.”
Elendurfinë then proceeded to explain
the passage of the Easterling attack, the actions taken by Eden Ardhon’s
warriors to defend their homes and the rain that had quelled the blistering
fires that had almost consumed the entire forest. Yet it was plain that something
remained hidden in the guarded manner of his words, something so terrible
he could not bring himself to meet the eyes of his lord and speak its words
to all hearing.
“How many have died?” Legolas’ asked
in the same, low voice.
“We are uncertain yet,” Elendurfinë answered
truthfully. “Some of the bodies have become lost in the wood where they had
fallen. I have sent parties out to seek our missing warriors. We were able
to evacuate a good number of women down the river before the Easterlings
arrived. Áyatiruva has gone to retrieve them, I believe they will return before nightfall.”
“And my wife?” Legolas forced himself to ask because
Melia had not come out to meet him and that alone struck cold fear in his
heart.
Elendurfinë lowered his eyes; unable
to meet Legolas gaze at the mention of Melia’s name.
“Tell me,” Legolas demanded, his voice but a hoarse whisper. “Does she
live?”
“Yes,” Elendurfinë nodded grimly. “She
lives, my lord.”
Legolas let out a sigh of relief at this
news but it was a short lived feeling for he sensed there was more to it
than that and braced himself to hear it.
“My lord,” Elendurfinë swallowed, preferring
to battle Morgoth himself then have to reveal to Legolas what had happened
to Melia and the other women of Eden Ardhon. “The Easterlings managed to
breach Eden Ardhon itself. We were still battling them in the eastern quadrant
of the forests and not all the women were able to get away to safety.”
“What does that mean?” Nunaur demanded
of his subordinate, his patience having reached its limits. “Explain yourself!”
“How many?” Legolas asked through gritted teeth.
His eyes were closed because he could no longer bear the strained expression
of Elendurfinë was trying to hide from him. Even without
hearing the words, he instinctively knew what Elendurfinë was trying with
such great difficulty, to tell him. A feeling of numbness
suffused his being; his emotions became trapped behind a wall of iron restraint
because for the moment, he needed control. The damn
would burst soon enough but for now, he needed composure to hear Elendurfinë’s
answer.
“Twenty,” the elven warrior revealed.
“Including your wife.”
“Oh Legolas, I am sorry,” Gimli managed
to say but no other consolation would follow. There were simply no words
to console a husband whose wife had been profaned in such a manner, no comfort
that could ease his terrible outrage. Gimli himself considered Melia family
and to know that this terrible thing had been done to her was enough to make
his stoke his own anger into white-hot fury.
“Was she hurt badly?” Legolas forced
himself to ask, his voice starting to crack, his face a mask of sorrow.
“She remains now in the house of healing.
She was pierced with an arrow and her arm was broken. There are other injuries
but any more than that I cannot say.”
”Thank you,” Legolas answered with surprisingly calm considering what he
had just been told.
“My lord,” Elendurfinë hated to add more to his lord’s burden
but the entire colony knew how Melia had felt about the child and Legolas
had a right to know what had happened in this respect as well. “The child
Anna was killed. I am told the Lady Melia saw her die.”
Legolas swallowed the lump in his throat
and nodded slightly. “Nunaur, please see to the comfort of our guests and
the Rohirrim. Elendurfinë, you will take me to the Lady Melia.”
“Yes my lord,” Nunaur replied promptly
but it was evident the leader of Legolas’ warriors was terribly reluctant
to leave his lord in such a precarious state of mind.
“Legolas, I will come with you,” Aragorn
brushed past Nunaur, determined to stay close to the elf. He knew Legolas
well enough to know how close to the edge he was skirting at the moment.
Legolas was a creature of high moral character for most part but even he
had demonstrated savagery in battle that would make any enemy cringe. Still,
that savagery was laced with elven control but Aragorn feared that this was
one situation where Legolas might abandon his reason and embrace wholly the
fury he so deserved to feel.
“As you wish,” Legolas retorted, barely
hearing his words.
Gimli hurried forward, determined not
to be left behind even though Legolas registered his presence as much as
he noticed Aragorn’s, which was to say not at all. The
dwarf could sense the approach of the storm almost as potently as Aragorn
and like the king of Gondor, was uncertain what shape Legolas’ undoubtedly
formidable fury would take. In the years since the
formation of the Fellowship and all the trials that had put them to the test
after it, Legolas had always been the paragon of elvish serenity. No matter
what, he had always managed to keep control. Even when he was angered; there
was restraint and thoughtfulness. His expressions of anger were obligatory
for the moment, not instinctive as most emotional outbursts tended to be. They had become accustomed to his composure and his aloof
manner, knowing that it was the elven way to be perceived as enigmas. They
had never seen him the way he was now.
They had never seen him enraged.
**************
Legolas paused in the doorway when the
sound of the door creaking open made Melia turn to him.
She was cushioned against pillows in
an upright position on her bed, her gaze formerly upon the window and the
day outside. Upon seeing him, there was a sparkle of pleasure in her eyes
but its light was difficult to see through the devastation. He froze a moment,
feeling another lump in his throat at the sight of her. The swelling around
her eyes had diminished a little but the ugly bruises were still there as
well as upon her jaw, her cheek and her lips split cruelly in a gash that
would tear open if she smiled. From her waist down, she was covered with
a sheet but her broken arm, held in place with splints, rested to her side.
He could see the swathing over the wound of her shoulder beneath her clothing.
“I missed you,” she said softy, her end
of lips curling but a little.
“I should not have gone,” Legolas answered
crossing the space between them and lowering himself next to her on the bed.
“I should never have left you,” he whispered, his voice choking.
“You did what had to be done,” Melia
answered compassionately in this matter. She did not blame him as much as
she blamed herself and it pained her to think that he would hold himself
responsible for what happened. “You could not have foreseen any of this.”
“I should have been here,” Legolas declared,
his face contorting with a gamut of emotions he no longer bothered to hide.
To see her beauty so marred, to know that the bruises and the broken bones
were only the barest fraction of her true injuries was more than he could
bear. Her face showed her despair, it radiated from
every corner of her and yet diminish the light that she was to him.
“I should have been here to protect you.
I should have stopped them from hurting you…” he broke off almost unable
to continue.
“Please,” she turned away, tears running
down her cheeks because the ordeal was making itself felt with fresh pain.
“I do not wish to speak of it but I cannot hide that I am soiled and tainted.
I have been defiled and I am no longer worthy of you.”
“Don’t you say that!”
Legolas cried out with such vehemence that it startled Melia as he took the
hand of her uninjured arm. Tears had escaped his eyes as he looked at her
with such pain that Melia could barely stand it. “It is I who is unworthy.
You did nothing to deserve this and I did everything to cause it! You are
my love! Nothing will ever change that, not even the foul act of Easterling
animals! Do you think their cruelty could ever change the fact that my heart
has been yours, will be yours even to the grave?” He was crying now, a thing
he had not done in a long time but his guilt was almost complete and she
was the one person to whom he could bare his soul without shame.
“Oh Prince!” She burst into tears, unable to stand
his grief any more than she was able to cope with hers. “I couldn’t save
her! She needed me and I couldn’t save her! What they
did to this body was nowhere as terrible as killing her because I could do
nothing to stop it!”
Legolas drew his wife into his arms as
she sobbed pitifully in his embrace, purging herself of the terrible pain
she felt at Anna’s death, stroking her hair, whispering in her ears that
it was not her fault even though he knew that it was a futile effort. How
could he exonerate her of her guilt when he could not convince himself that
this was not his fault? Aragorn had warned him! He had thought the king had
been too proud to accept his help but it had been Legolas who had been proud,
too proud to acknowledge the fact that Aragorn could be right and he was.
When she had stopped crying, unaware
that every sob had broke his heart anew as if it were of a Promethean design,
Legolas took her face in his hands and made her look at him. Forcing himself
to remain strong because she needed his strength more than his sorrow at
this moment, Legolas stared into her eyes and spoke with all the conviction
he could muster.
“I love you more than anything in this
world but I will not allow you to believe that this was your fault! This
was an act of barbarism, upon your flesh and upon that poor child who had
suffered greatly already! You could never be anything but absolute in my
eyes and there is not a fibre of my being that will believe for an instant
that you did not do everything in your power to save her. The tragedy or
the blame of this is not yours to bear. It belongs to the Easterlings murderers
who took away her life before her time. I swear to you my love, on everything that I am that they will pay for
this. Her life will be answered for, hers and that of everyone who was defiled
in Eden Ardhon. I love you Mia, I will see them pay for they have done to
you!”
Melia saw the fury in his eyes and knew
that he meant what he had spoken. The rage that burned behind his deep blue
eyes struck cold fear in her life for it was like a dragon had been prodded
into awakening. She had thought the fate of Lebethron had incited his rage,
she had been wrong. That was pale in comparison to the fury blazing in his
eyes at the crime upon her and his people. A part of her was gladdened by
his desire to avenge the crime but another was afraid for his life. Vengeance tainted the soul far more profanely then even
a violent rape, she would not see him blighted, not even for her.
“Prince,” Melia said quickly. “I will
survive this but I will do so with you at my side. I need you now to be with
me, not to embark upon a course that will drive us apart.”
“I am with you,” he declared pulling
himself away, his hand still on her cheek. “Someday that will change but
until that time I will always be yours but this cannot go unanswered, I could
not live with myself if I were to look at you and know that those who forced
themselves upon you still breathed the same air as I. In
that respect, elves are no different than men. They will pay!”
And with that, he swept out of the room
before any of her protestations were capable of changing his mind.
***************
Aragorn saw Legolas storming out of the
room and knew that there was murder in his eyes. The elf barely registered
the presence of his close friends as he strode past them, with a fury so
dark that it almost created shadows along the hallway as he moved. Aragorn and Gimli exchanged fearful looks, aware that the
storm that they had feared had finally broken. Without
needing to correspond in words what needed to be done, Aragorn immediately
fell into pursuit certain that in his rage Legolas was about to embark upon
some foolish act of vengeance. Gimli held back, thinking that it was best
that Aragorn dealt with this alone for it needed subtlety and that was something
the dwarf lacked.
“Legolas!” Aragorn called out as he hurried out
the house of healing into the outdoors of Eden Ardhon once more. “Stop!”
Legolas did not answer and made his way
to where the horses were stabled, confirming Aragorn’s worse fears that the
elf did intend to do something foolish. Legolas was
certainly justified in doing so despite how hazardous the action might be. If Aragorn were in his place, he doubted if anyone could
deter him from his course any more than he was attempting to do to Legolas
at this moment. However, he had to try. He had to try because Legolas was
his friend and if their positions were indeed reversed, it would be Legolas
who would be making this impassioned plea instead of him.
“Leave me be Aragorn,” Legolas paused
briefly when they reached the entrance to the stables. It was one of the
few buildings that fortunately remained untouched by the fire.
“I will know where you intend to go first,”
Aragorn returned insistently.
“It is none of your affair,” Legolas
glared at him.
“It is if you intend upon embarking on
utter suicide,” the king declared, wrapping his fist around Legolas’ arm
and preventing him from going any further into the stable.
“Release me immediately,” Legolas ordered,
his eyes meeting Aragorn’s in cold fury.
“No,” Aragorn shook his head. “Not whilst
you are in this state. I know what burns you and though I cannot fault you
for it, I will not allow you to do what is in your mind. It is folly and
it will cost you your life!”
“I will not allow this violation go unpunished,”
Legolas snapped, tearing his arm out of Aragorn’s grasp.
“It will not,” Aragorn tried to reason
with him but was beginning to see that reason may not be possible, not with
the fury that was coursing through Legolas at this time. “However, you would
best serve your people by being there for them.”
“If I had the best consideration of my
people in my head, I would not have interfered in this war of yours to begin
with and my wife’s body and soul would not be ripped asunder!” The elf shouted
before turning on his heels and resuming the journey into the stable.
“Legolas, I will not allow you to leave
here.” Aragorn said firmly with enough steel in his voice to halt the lord
of Eden Ardhon in his steps.
“Who do you think you are that you presume
to tell me what I can and cannot do in my own realm, Aragorn?” Legolas demanded
after he had turned around and faced Aragorn once again.
“I am your friend,” the king of Gondor
said sincerely, “and I will not let you do this thing.”
“How do you propose to stop me?” Legolas
glared at him, eyes filled with challenge and outrage at the man’s presumption.
“By any means necessary,” Aragorn declared
firmly, not about to stand aside.
“I would like to see you try,” Legolas
hissed under his breath and turned his back upon Aragorn. There was a rage
burning inside of him that would know no rest until he had tasted vengeance.
Never in his life had Legolas been provoked to such a state of burning fury
and now that the flame had been stoked into such heat, it was difficult to
think of anything else but satisfying the demand for justice. He did not
care if others called it by a different name, that to them it was vengeance.
He did not care for anything except righting the wrong that had been inflicted
his wife and his people.
Aragorn took a deep breath and decided
that he would have no choice but to make good on his threat. He broke into
a run in order to catch up with Legolas, determined that the elf would not
leave Eden Ardhon in his present condition. Legolas was just angry enough
to try to mount a lone assault upon the Easterling army and he had skill
enough to track them to do so. Unfortunately, elven
senses were more than prepared for him. Before Aragorn could reach for Legolas’
shoulder, the elf spun around and grabbed his wrist.
“Do not interfere with me, Aragorn,”
Legolas warned, too swept away by anger to recognise that his friend was
trying to help.
“I will not let you go,” Aragorn repeated
himself.
Legolas shoved his hand away and started
to turn but Aragorn was just as determined as Legolas in this matter. The
former Ranger reached for him again and this time Legolas’ reaction was more
violent. He grasped Aragorn’s tunic and slammed him hard against the wall,
pinning him there with elven strength, heightened by guilt and anger.
“Leave me be!” Legolas demanded.
Aragorn broke free easily and pushed
Legolas away from him. “I will not! I cannot! This is folly and you know
it! Your people need you here at this moment and that is far more important
thing than your need for vengeance!”
Legolas lashed out so swiftly that Aragorn
did not even see the fist that connected with his jaw and sent him sprawling
against the wall. The strike was hard and sharp but not enough to harm his
seriously. In his time Aragorn had weathered worse and if it required that
he bore the brunt of his trusted companion’s rage to keep him from doing
something foolish, then so be it.
“You will not change what has happened,”
Aragorn replied, rubbing his chin as he faced Legolas after a moment. “And
your death will not comfort your wife who has suffered enough. Do not force
her to endure your loss as well as her violation!”
“How dare you?” Legolas demanded as he
took a step closer towards Aragorn, until they were inches part from each
other and Aragorn could see how enraged the prince truly was. “How dare you presume to tell me anything? If it were
the Evenstar, not even Iluvutar could stop you from what I am intending to
do now! Your hypocrisy sickens me!”
“Legolas, I know how you feel…” Aragorn
started to say.
“NO YOU DO NOT!” Legolas shouted in turn,
his voice starting to break. “How could you possibly know what I feel at
this moment? It was not your wife that was brutalised! Not your people who
have been subjected to this humiliation and degradation. It was not you who
gambled their safety and lost! It was I Aragorn! I!”
“It was not your fault,” Aragorn replied
earnestly, feeling his heartache as he watched Legolas recoiled with that
terrible outburst, losing all control of his emotions in a devastating admission
of guilt. “You could not have prevented this.”
“I did everything to provoke it!” Legolas
cried with anguish. “You warned me and I did not listen. I did not believe
that they would dare to do this! Not even after the destruction of Lebethron.
I bore the conceit of all elves, that we are untouchable, that we are the
blessed and the protected of the Valar that we cannot be harmed in such a
fashion! You warned me that this would happen and I did not see it! I did
not see it and now she lies there, like so many others, violated and shamed,
because of me!”
Legolas dropped to his knees, his strength
giving out at last under the weight of the terrible burden in his heart,
unable to maintain composure or control as he started to weep. “I failed
her Aragorn, I failed her and now she is broken inside and seeing her in
this manner, knowing I am the cause is a knife if my heart I cannot bear!
I should have listened to you but I did not and she has paid for my arrogance!
She and the rest of my people!”
“You did not fail anyone,” Aragorn replied,
feeling his own emotion well up inside of him seeing his friend so completely
desolate. It was quite something to witness the deconstruction of one of
the strongest people he would ever know and it was not a sight he wanted
to see again. “You did what you thought was best. You wished only to help
and there is no shame in that. Your people understand it as will your wife.
She is a Ranger of the North with enough steel in her character to ensure
that even this terrible deed will not break her. Do not let it break you.”
Legolas fell back on his legs, continuing
to weep in despair, releasing the torrent of emotion and grief that had been
dammed up since their departure from Lossarnach. Aragorn made no effort to
approach him and remained in silence, allowing the elf to purge himself of
his grief. Legolas was one who kept his emotions to
himself for most part and to release it in this manner was no easy thing,
particularly in full view of someone else. There were moments when the best
comfort one man could offer another was to simply remain silent.
“You told me that this could happen and
I refused to believe it, I refused to believe at the risk of everything I
hold dear. I thought you were too proud to accept my help now that you were
king of Gondor but it was I who was filled with pride Aragorn. I was too
proud to believe that this outcome was possible, that the Easterlings would
dare to attack an elven colony. I have made such grave
mistakes because of that pride and now there is wound upon my Melia’s heart
that no amount of time can erase and she has no Undying Lands to go to in
order to be rid of it.”
“She is not an elf,” Aragorn finally
answered, “she is human and she will endure because you will be at her side.”
“I cannot be for the moment,” Legolas
looked up at Aragorn, his cheeks still wet from tears and his eyes glistening,
but he was no longer weeping and the grief that Aragorn had been privy to
a short time ago was finally diminishing, replaced by his regaining composure. “I need to go.”
“Where?” Aragorn asked suspiciously, wondering
if Legolas still had vengeance in his mind.
“I have a journey to make and it is not
to kill the Easterlings, though they will know my wrath. I will ask that
in my absence you convey to Nunaur that all our women and our injured be
sent to Minas Tirith until I give word that it is safe for our return. I
trust that you will not mind housing my people for a time?”
“You know better than to ask that but
what do you intend to do?” Aragorn inquired again.
Legolas ignored the question and continued
speaking, “once that is done and my people are safely housed in the
“That is not necessary…” Aragorn started
to stay, realising that the fury that had almost driven Legolas to folly
was now abated, though the storm in his eyes was far from finished.
“Do not be so quick to say that,” Legolas
retorted. “You told us that you believe this conflict would last far longer
than a matter of months. If that is so, you cannot afford to be magnanimous.”
“And you?” Aragorn stared at him. “What
do you intend to do?”
Legolas rose to his feet and took a deep
breath, wiping the tears from his eyes and slipping that aloof mask over
his face once again. “I have a journey to make and it is one I must travel
alone.”
He saw Aragorn opening his mouth to protest
the idea and quickly silenced him by adding a further explanation. “Do not
concern yourself that I am riding to take on the Easterling army single-handedly.
While I think that I would take many of them before my death, you are probably
correct in believing that I would not survive the engagement but I mean to
hurt them Aragorn, I mean to make them pay.”
“How?” The king of Gondor asked, shuddering
inwardly at the ice in Legolas’ closing statement.
“By going to see
my father.”
**************
“Hello lass,” Gimli greeted Melia when
he entered her room.
“Gimli,” the Lady of Eden Ardhon said
with a surge of warmth in her otherwise despairing eyes. “Where is Legolas?”
The dwarf did not answer her at first,
pulling himself a chair next to her bed. Gimli could feel empathize with
Legolas’ fury and his subsequent actions when he cast his gaze upon the lady.
He too felt a surge of anger at seeing her wound and the sadness in her eyes.
If he could feel this way, Gimli could not even begin to imagine the hurt
that Legolas must be enduring at this moment. It made it easier to understand
why Legolas had set out on his lone quest, why he was determine to extract
his pound of flesh from every Easterling in Middle earth.
“He’s gone lass,” Gimli admitted after
he had seated himself beside her.
“Gone?” Melia’s eyes widened with alarm.
“Where?”
“To Mirkwood.”
“To Mirkwood?” Melia sat up straighter. “Why?”
“To show the Easterlings that if what
they intended here was to frighten the elves out of participating in the
war, then they were very much mistaken,” Gimli replied.
“Thranduil will not commit his people
to war,” Melia answered, knowing her father in law well enough now to be
certain of this.
Thranduil was a king very much concerned
with his own realm. Unlike Elrond and Galadriel who had never deign to call
themselves monarchs, Thranduil had relished the title as the Woodland king
and he took his oath to protect his people seriously. Melia could not blame
him for this because more than any other elven kingdom in Middle earth, Thranduil’s
elves had been forced to endure Sauron’s presence on a daily basis.
With Dol Guldur reeking out its evil
in the woods of Mirkwood, turning the forests of Eryn Lasgalen into a treacherous
haven for all manner of vile creatures, the elves had been forced to co-exist
with this darkness for countless years. The burden of this had taken its
toll upon Thranduil who had become somewhat insular. In a reign where every
day might produce a new threat from the nearby enemy, Thranduil had been
forced to think only of his own people and leave the concerns of Middle earth
to those who had the time to expend in its care.
During the treaty ceremony that would
have seen a new peace forged between the Easterling Confederacy and the Council
of Middle earth, Thranduil had been invited to take part but the king had
refused, citing that it was not his concern. Melia knew that Legolas had
been disappointed by this disinterest but he was unsurprised by his father’s
lack of concern. He knew his father better than anyone and while Thranduil
had consented enough to send him to Imladris during the quest of the ring,
any more than was beyond Thranduil’s capacity.
“I think you will make a compelling reason,”
Gimli answered looking upon her with sympathy.
“I do not wish him to beg his father
for my sake,” Melia declared aggrieved by this.
“I do not think it is merely your sake,”
the dwarf replied but could not sound truly convincing. “I think this attack
upon Eden Ardhon has awakened all the elves to some painful realisations,
particularly for those who have chosen to remain in Middle earth for a time. I think they were of the belief that the affairs of men
did not concern them and that as long as that they could remain untouched
by violence and still go about as they pleased. This has been a swift kick
in their complacency I’m afraid.” Gimli did not mention that the worst victim
of this belief was Legolas himself. The lord of Eden Ardhon blamed himself
completely for what had transpired. Try as Gimli might to think of some answer
that would exonerate this guilt, the dwarf could not.
This had come about because of Legolas’
involvement in the siege of Lossarnach.
“The Prince blames himself,” Melia whispered
softly. “He thinks that it is his fault that Eden Ardhon has suffered.”
“I am afraid so,” Gimli could not bring
himself to lie. “I do not think anyone else blames him. They understood that
he had to help, that it was not in the nature of elves to sit by and allow
innocents to be murdered. The price is high no doubt, higher than anyone
perceived it to be but I do not think the people of Eden Ardhon hold the
elf responsible for what has happened.”
“They love him too much,” Melia said
with a faint smile, an exertion that made her wince because of her split
lip. “He is Legolas Greenleaf, one of the nine walkers and a legend himself.
He could nothing that would lower their esteem of him. Unfortunately, my
Prince will be capable of blaming himself quite sufficiently nevertheless.”
“You should not be worrying about this,”
Gimli said squeezing her uninjured hand tighter. “You should be resting.
You should save your strength for yourself and let that fool elf you married
do what he needs to. This is a road he must travel alone, lass. You cannot
do it for him and you need to rest. You have been through an ordeal, one I might add was not your fault, because
he will need you to be strong in the days to come.”
“You are true friend Master Dwarf,” Melia
looked upon him with great affection. Though her heart was heavy and the
pain of Anna’s death still lingered in her heart, his words did offer her
some comfort. “Does your wife know how fortunate she is?”
”Probably not,” he said full of devilish charm. “So if you enlighten her
the next time you see her, I should be most grateful.”
Melia uttered a small laugh before her
expression melted into longing once more, “I wish he was here. I miss him.”
“He will not be gone long,” Gimli assured
her. “What he had to do could not wait.”
“I know,” Melia sighed. “I have a premonition
that for much my existence during and after this life,
will be spent waiting for his arrival.”
************
He rode as if he were being chased by
all the demons of the world.
With his eye set firmly upon the road
ahead, Legolas and his
For a many days, Legolas sailed the sizeable
vessel up the length of the Anduin, avoiding all together the harsh terrain
of Emyn Muil and the ruined terrain of the Brown Lands. Speed was of the
essence because the reason for his journey to important. With the armies
of the Confederacy on the move across lands of the
Legolas spent his time on the river thinking
hard about what he would say to his father when their eyes beheld one another
again. It was no small thing he was asking of his father but the crime against
Eden Ardhon had proved one thing most conclusively. No elf remaining in Middle
earth could choose to ignore the threat represented by the Easterlings should
the war with the
They travelled up the Anduin until they
reached Gladden Fields before Legolas resumed the journey on horseback. Within
a matter of days, he was riding up the familiar paths of the Woodland Realm,
a place he had last beheld when he had left to establish his colony in
His arrival was met with great joy and
if the circumstances were anything but what they were, Legolas would have
shared their happiness but he could not. When he thought of Melia, Miriel
and all those other maidens who had been defiled to make some barbaric point
about their interference in matters supposedly not their own, Legolas felt
his blood surge with the fury anew. The kind of animals
that would commit such a foul act upon women could not be allowed to gain
ascendancy over Middle earth. It would akin to allowing Sauron or Morgoth
dominion over the world again. It could not be permitted.
When Legolas was found himself before
Thranduil in the court of the Woodland Realm, he was somewhat surprised by
how much older Thranduil appeared. Elves did not age
in the same manner and they certainly did it at a far slower pace but it
appeared to Legolas that his father had changed a little since his presence
at Eden Ardhon some months ago when he and Melia were wed.
Was Thranduil perhaps ready to leave Middle earth at last?
“This is an unexpected surprise,” Thranduil
said with warmth as he embraced his first and only son with great affection.
“Is Melia with you?”
“No father,” Legolas shook his head as
he stepped back wondering if he should wait for a day to tell his father
his reason for making this journey. It was odd because he had thought up
all the words to say during the journey here but now that the moment was
upon him, he felt like he was once again a boy trying to explain himself
to his father. However, his memory shifted back to
Melia, the desolation on her face, the tears she had wept as she told him
of her ordeal at the hands of the Easterling and fury he felt returned with
sharp intensity and gave him the courage he needed.
“Eden Ardhon has been attacked father,”
Legolas announced.
“Attacked?” The
“Easterlings,” Legolas answered as he
saw Thranduil returning to his throne. “You know that during the treaty negotiations
they had allied themselves with the Haradrim so that they could speak to
the Council of Middle earth with one voice.”
“Yes, yes,” Thranduil said impatiently,
more concerned about Eden Ardhon then the politics of the Easterlings and
Southrons.
“It appears that they are gathering more
allies than we first believed. They have enlisted the aid of the Dunlendings,
the goblins of Moria and all the former agents that served Sauron. They call
themselves the Easterling Confederacy and their strength and numbers may
be the largest army of their kind we have seen since the War of Ring.”
“I told you that a treaty with them was
a waste of time,” Thranduil replied, appreciating the scope of the threat,
even if the conflict was a matter for men.
Legolas ignored his father and continued
with his commentary of events so that Thranduil could understand how Eden
Ardhon had fallen prey to the Easterling hordes. “They destroyed the
“I take it you did not oblige them this
request,” Thranduil stared at him.
“I tried,” Legolas said softly, his eyes
lowering to the floor. “Aragorn had told me that it was unwise to provoke
them, lest they were to retaliate against Eden Ardhon.”
“That was good advice,” Thranduil responded,
offering his son no solace because he was now listening to Legolas as the
king of the Woodland Realm, not his father. “The king
of Gondor is wise. He seeks to save you from yourself.”
“I had every intention of doing what
he asked but he is my friend and when the Haradrim were discovered marching
towards Lossarnach, I rode with him with Nunaur and a few others to aid in
its defense. It was not my intention to embroil Eden Ardhon in the conflict.”
“The Easterlings are hardly reasonable,”
Thranduil said sympathetically. “They would not make the distinction. You
are the lord of your realm and when you stand beside the king of Gondor,
you do not stand as his friend, you stand there as a representative of your
people. Your friendship with the Elfstone committed Eden Ardhon to war.”
“Do you think I do not know that?” Legolas
hissed. “I have paid the price for that father. They fell upon Eden Ardhon
while I was still in Lossarnach. They set the forest ablaze and killed a
good many of my people and very nearly destroyed the colony completely. Eden
Ardhon stands but our heart has been torn open.”
“I am sorry,” Thranduil rose from the
throne and returned to his son. “The court of the Woodland Realm will provide
any aid Eden Ardhon requires to recover from this terrible ordeal. You have
my promise on that, my son.”
“It is not your aid I wish father,” Legolas
met Thranduil’s eyes. “It is your support in arms.”
Thranduil blinked as if he had been mistaken
in his hearing. “What did you say?”
“You heard me,” Legolas replied, seeing
no reason to repeat himself when it was clear Thranduil had understood his
words. “I am committing Eden Ardhon to war. This insult against my people
will be answered for. I am asking you to do the same. If you were to join
the forces of the
“Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Thranduil stared at Legolas in astonishment, unable to believe that his very
sensible son had made such a preposterous request. “You
wish for the elves to go war?”
“War will come if we do nothing!” Legolas
returned sharply. “They butchered an entire village as a message to me that
they will harm anyone who stands in their way and when I refused, they attacked
my realm and defiled it! If they win this war and gain dominion over the
lands of the
“We have been able to defend ourselves
from Sauron and far worst things than a collection of human rabble, I do
not think we will be in terrible danger,” Thranduil insisted.
“Then you are a fool father,” Legolas
answered. “Their leader has forged together an alliance the likes of which
has not been seen since Sauron! If it were not for the One Ring and Sauron’s
destruction, they could have won the war! Now they are no longer hindered
by either and spurred on by a leader they will die to protect. If we do not
take a stand in this, we will find ourselves surrounded on all sides!”
“You are assuming the
“I have faith in my friends and in their
courage but we dare not risk the chance that they may lose. If we were to
join them in this, we will give them the strength to not only protect our
borders but to push the enemy back to their territories and ensure that they
will never rise again.” Legolas answered sincerely.
Thranduil stared at his son for a moment
because in the last few minutes he had noticed something in Legolas’ manner
that he had not seen for a very long time. As a child, his son was everything
a father could ask for. Fiercely loyal and brave beyond words and sometimes,
Thranduil thought secretly, beyond sense. Legolas had always been the paragon
of elven behaviour; he was everything that a son who was greatly loved by
a father should be. However, Thranduil was aware that the boy had something
of a temper. It did not rise often but when it did, even Thranduil knew to
beware. As he looked upon his son, standing before
him with a storm raging behind his eyes, the
“Legolas, what has happened?” Thranduil
asked quietly.
Legolas looked at his father, wishing
he could lie but the truth wanted to come, no matter how ashamed he was of
himself at his responsibility at what had transpired at Eden Ardhon because
of him. Three thousand years old he may be, but there
was still a tiny part of the Mirkwood’s prince that was a little boy needing
his father’s comfort.
“They raped Melia.”
It escaped him in a small voice with
tears welling in his eyes that shocked his father to no end because it had
been years since Thranduil had seen his child so vulnerable and whether or
not the boy was three years old or three thousand years old mattered little
to his father. It still pierced the heart of the old man who immediately
wrapped his arms around his son in an embrace of comfort. Finally, Thranduil
understood Legolas’ insistence for the elves to join the conflict as well
as the terrible, terrible guilt that he could see in his eyes.
“I am so sorry my son,” Thranduil said
gently. “How badly have they harmed her?”
“Her spirit is in pieces,” Legolas answered,
barely able to maintain his composure and not weep like a child. “She fought
bravely to protect others and herself but there were too many of them and
she was overcome. She grieves not for the violence of it but for her failure
to save the others.”
“She is an exceptional woman,” Thranduil
replied sincerely, “a credit to her race.”
“She was not alone father,” Legolas continued
his speech, this time spoken from the heart rather than the heated tirade
full of bluster. “The Easterlings raped many of our women as a lesson to
the elves of what they would do if we stand against them. We cannot allow
ourselves to be intimidated this way. They think that we are complacent and
weak because we do not involve ourselves in the affairs of men and that they
can inflict a lesson like this upon us without fear of reprisals. Father,
if we do nothing then we deserve nothing but scorn for they have turned us
into a race of cowards.”
Thranduil flinched at the slight but
he could not deny that his son’s words did not ring with truth. Rape was the most heinous crime that could be inflicted
upon any elf, male or female. Some were willing to die rather than live with
the shame and these Easterlings had blithely committed this atrocity under
the guise of some deserved lesson that his son was required to learn. It
infuriated him to think a member of his family, even if she was human, had
been subjected to this humiliation. Many of the elves at Eden Ardhon had
been of Eryn Lasgalen and though they were removed from his realm, Thranduil
still felt some responsibility to them.
“You ask a great deal my son,” Thranduil
met Legolas’ gaze.
The prince’s breath held because he could
see that he had touched his father’s heart with his words and might have
actually succeeded in convincing Thranduil to join him in this war. Choosing
his next words carefully, Legolas spoke once more.
“Father, I have never asked you anything
in my life as important as this and I know that for you to agree would set
our people on a perilous road but it is a road we must take. I do
not deny that Melia’s treatment by the Easterlings influences my demand but
my fury is also for my people and the fear that if we allow them this concession,
they will commit the same atrocity again if we do not bend to their will.”
Thranduil let out a heavy sigh, absorbing
all of Legolas’ words and being unable to deny that he disliked the notion
of the Easterling Confederacy believing that the elves were a diminished
race that would suffer any humiliation to avoid combat. He
wondered if they had any idea the storm they had provoked because of Eden
Ardhon. Thranduil rather doubted it.
Humans were never really far sighted.
“I suppose that you had better get some
rest,” Thandruil looked at his son. “It will be a long ride to
Legolas smiled gratefully and felt utterly
satisfied with his audience with the king of the Woodland Realm.
The Easterlings wanted to teach the elves
a lesson.
Now it was time for them to learn a lesson
of their own and what it means to wake a sleeping dragon.