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.