An Affliction Of The Heart
Part 18
Posted: January 25, 2008
Title: An Affliction of the Heart
Author: Larien Elengasse
Summary: A mysterious force appears in the forest; Glorfindel makes a discovery; Thranduil loses his temper; and the twins comfort a friend.
******
Legolas entered the council chambers on Gildor’s arm. He allowed the ancient warrior to guide him to his seat, and as he settled into the tall chair he imagined the looks of pity he must surely be getting from the members of the king’s council.
“What happened?” he asked, turning his head in the direction of where his father always sat.
“We found nothing,” Thranduil answered quietly. We have received word from the guard posted on the perimeter of our realm and nothing has been seen.” Thranduil folded his hands and placed them on the table. “The only thing that was out of the ordinary is that some of the creatures of the forest seemed disturbed by something, but we know not what.”
“What? How can this be?” Legolas asked. He knitted his brow as he sat forward in his chair. “I felt it; it was real.”
“I felt it as well, my liege,” Glorfindel answered. “No one here doubts the truth of your feeling; or, if they do, they doubt mine as well.”
“We all believe you, Legolas,” Thranduil replied, casting a glance around the table as if to admonish his councilors. “What ever it was that you sensed, it was not corporeal; or perhaps it was a premonition.”
“I have never had foresight,” Legolas replied, lowering his vacant gaze.
Glorfindel shifted in his chair uncomfortably. He loathed having to talk about his fall, but lest he allow the prince to appear foolish, or worse, he had to speak up.
“There are times when a connection can be forged,” he began. Clearing his throat, he continued, “My fall from the precipice with the Balrog, my death . . . since then I have had a special window into a place I never wanted to see. I sensed what you felt, my prince. Perhaps your encounter with the dragon has provided you with what my battle with the Balrog gave me. Perhaps you are seeing into that…”
“That dark, hellish place?” Legolas finished the Elda’s statement, turning in the direction of Glorfindel’s voice. “Are you suggesting that I somehow have access to a window that leads to the presence of the Dark Lord?”
Glorfindel sighed. “Aye, my liege; that I am.”
Thranduil looked at his lover in astonishment. It had never occurred to him that Glorfindel could sense Sauron’s presence, and he never would have believed, or wanted, his son to have the same ability. “Are you sure?” he queried of his lover.
Glorfindel nodded and replied, “Yes; it is the only answer that explains how we both felt the same thing. The peculiar matter is that the prince felt it before I did, and my sense can be particularly acute.” He turned toward Legolas and reached out, placing his hand upon the prince’s own. “I know this is not what you want, my liege. It is a difficult burden, to be sure. But perhaps this proves that you can still serve your people and protect them, even if it is not in the way you once did.”
“If he can see into the world of the Dark Lord, what is to stop the Dark Lord from seeing us through the prince?” one of the councilors asked.
“Do not be ridiculous!” Thranduil barked as he gained his feet. “Legolas is not now, nor has he ever been a danger to this realm or our people!”
“How can you know that?” another of the elders queried. “And for that matter, how do we know that Glorfindel is not a danger? Perhaps it is Glorfindel who drew the dragon here in the first place.”
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes. This was precisely what he had been worried about; fear was a powerful motivator.
“That is enough!” Thranduil thundered as he slammed his fist upon the table. “My family has spilled its blood for over an age protecting all of you. Before my father came you were but a frightened rabble grubbing in the forest, afraid of your own shadows! How dare you insinuate that my son and my partner are a danger to this place or to our people!”
“It is possible, my lord,” a third suggested.
Thranduil leaned forward and cocked his head, glaring down at the councilor who now seemed to want nothing more than to disappear into the floor. “Is this what my blood has purchased; what my son’s blood has purchased?” he asked in a low, menacing voice. “Is this what my father’s death has purchased? Are you all still no more than a superstitious, cowering lot? Ai, this is rich. I am to be advised by weaklings who know more of books than of orcs. When is the last time any one of you faced one of Sauron’s black horde at the point of a tainted sword?”
The councilors all gasped. To speak the name of the Dark Lord was forbidden in Elvendom.
“I will tell you what is possible,” Thranduil continued in a low, menacing voice. “It is possible that I, and Glorfindel, and Legolas, and the host of warriors I have trained may leave you miserable creatures here to cower underground and wait for Him to come, and I promise you, He will come. Then you will see the value of what we do and the price we continue to pay; then you will know that my father, my son, my lover, were all that stood between you and horrors you cannot even imagine.”
Thranduil’s most senior adviser gained his feet. “Forgive them, my lord. They are frightened. No one here believes that we could survive without you and the contribution of your most esteemed family. We are indebted to you, my king.”
“Fear is dangerous, my lords,” Thranduil replied. “The fear that now resides in your hearts is far more dangerous than anything that the Dark Lord can send. I can fight what I can see; but this, this I cannot defend against. I do not wish to abandon my people, but I warn you – move to banish my son or my lover, and that is exactly what I will do. I will take my warriors and leave you to your fates.”
Pushing his chair back from the table, he approached Legolas and took his arm. “Come, my son. Let us leave these fools to think on their absurd suggestions. Some time contemplating our departure might do them some good.”
Legolas nodded silently and left the room, guided by his father and followed by Glorfindel.
There was a long, pregnant pause as the councilors all looked around at one another. After some time Gildor stepped forward from the shadows.
“Some of you may know of me,” he said in a quiet, even voice. “My name is Gildor Inglorion, and I am of the House of Finrod Felagund. I was born on the shores of Aman and traveled here with the host of Finrod. Since the beginning of the Second Age, I have served Elrond, Son of Eärendil, and I have fought the evil that so frightens you now.” He fought not to smirk; calling on the name of his kin usually produced humility in those who thought they were more powerful or impressive than they really were.
“I know you are frightened; fear is wise when considering the Dark Lord’s power. However, I also know you are thoughtful men, for the king does not suffer fools for advisers. There is a dark power growing in the forest, far to the south where your people once dwelled. I believe that it is this power that the prince and Lord Glorfindel have sensed.” He looked at each of them with intent.
“Lord Elrond has tasked me with watching these woods, for he worries about the gathering strength of Him who we will not name. Here, in these caves, you have one who can see what I cannot despite all of my knowledge and all of my skill. In the coming years, it is the prince who shall protect you from the darkening skies. Doubt not the love of the prince for his people.”
Gildor could see the change in each of the councilors’ eyes. “I can teach him how to use his sight and how to harness it to work toward your protection. I humbly ask you to consider this when you speak of the future of this realm.”
Bowing his head he concluded, “I now beg your leave so that you may contemplate my request.” As the councilors each nodded, he took two steps back and then turned, leaving them to ponder his words.
* * * *
“I am so worried about him, my love,” Thranduil said as Glorfindel eased his heavy robe from his shoulders. “He feels so lost.”
“I know,” Glorfindel replied softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his king’s neck.
“Could their fears have some grounding in truth? Is it possible that the Dark Lord could work His black art on my son?”
Glorfindel shook his head gently. “Nay, my love. It is a sense Legolas has, no more. The prince’s spirit is true of heart and he seeks not to contact the Dark Lord. You need not fear this.”
“What of you?” Thranduil turned in Glorfindel’s arms. “Has He ever tried to control you?”
Glorfindel tucked Thranduil’s hair behind his ears. “Aye, once. But He was corporeal and we were face to face; we looked into each other’s eyes.”
Thranduil swallowed. “I cannot imagine what that must have been like.”
“I have never seen eyes so cold or so empty. He smiled, He flattered, and He flirted with me. Despite the beautiful guise He wore, I could see He had a black heart. Thankfully, my lord saw it as well.”
“You saw Him as Annatar, then?”
“Aye, when He came to Lindon to speak with Gil-galad. I saw Him again on the field at Ost-in-Edhil, though He was not interested in seduction then.”
“I imagine not. You saw Him on the Morannon as well.”
“Yes, as did you.”
“I did not dare look into His black eyes,” Thranduil said. “All I can remember is how massive He was, and the fearsome guise He wore.” The king sighed. “How did this come to pass? How did I lose the faith of my people?”
“Not your people, my love. It is only your councilors who have expressed doubt, and I do not think they have lost faith – they are merely frightened.” He cocked his head and peered into Thranduil’s face. “Perhaps . . . perhaps I should take Legolas to see Lord Elrond. There is no more powerful healer in Middle-earth.”
“He is too vulnerable to travel. What if something were to happen on the journey there?”
“You know I would protect him, my love. You know I would give my life to safeguard his.”
“I do. It is just that… I am not ready to let go of him yet, Glorfindel. Can you understand? I want him to heal, but I am afraid to let him go.”
Glorfindel took his lover’s face in his hands and kissed him gently. “I do understand. But think on it, my love. Perhaps there is something I can do to assuage your fears.”
“For now, I merely wish to put all of this aside. That drama in the council chambers has exhausted me.”
“Then let me ease your spirit, my love. Come, rest in my arms.”
They climbed into bed and Thranduil laid his head upon the Elda’s chest, closing his eyes and drifting into an uneasy sleep.
* * * *
Legolas sat alone in the middle of his bed, his eyes unfocused and his heart sinking. A soft knock came upon the door and he turned his head, quietly giving permission for his visitor to enter.
“Are you all right, my prince?”
It was Elrohir. Just the gentle sound of his voice was comforting. In an uncharacteristic moment of weakness, Legolas answered, “No, I am anything but all right.”
Twin sets of bare feet padded across the floor, then Legolas felt the bed dip on both sides of him and he was swallowed up in the embrace of the twins.
“It is so dark, and I feel so alone,” he said softly, burying his face in Elladan’s neck and pulling Elrohir’s arms around him.
“Ah, but you are not alone, my liege,” Elladan said softly. “We are here with you; we will always be with you.”
“They are afraid of me, and I do not blame them.”
“Who? Who is afraid, my prince?” Elrohir asked, blinking back the tears that were beginning to sting his eyes.
“All of them. My people, my father’s advisers, my chambermaid . . . my own warriors. I see things without seeing; I know things that I should not know. They think I have become an agent of the Dark Lord.” Legolas began to tremble. “I am so alone and so lost in my own skin. I do not know who I am anymore.”
Elladan stroked the prince’s hair and held him as he wept quietly. He had thought that Legolas would heal once he released his guilt; but it was becoming clear that it was not the case.
“They fear what they do not understand; it is what all weaker peoples do,” Elladan answered, fighting back the anger he could feel swelling in his breast. “They do not know you as we do; we know that you could never be what they fear you have become. We know you are true of heart and strong.”
“I am not strong!” Legolas barked as he pulled out of Elladan’s embrace and wiped the tears from his face. “I am pathetic! Look at me! I can do little myself; I can no longer serve my purpose nor my people! What am I now but an oddity? What am I supposed to do?”
“You are no oddity!” Elrohir growled uncharacteristically. “You are Legolas Thranduilion! You are a captain, a leader, a warrior, and a prince without compare! Who is that rabble to judge you? Who are they to doubt you? Who are they to doubt one who has shed his blood for them? How dare they!”
“Elrohir….”
“I will give them something to fear, by Mandos I will! I have my father’s will and the fury of the Edain in my blood. They are going to rue the day that they ever…”
“Elrohir!”
Elrohir blinked and looked at Legolas, who for just a moment seemed to be looking straight into his eyes.
Legolas reached up and caressed the peredhel’s cheek; a brief smile curved his lips. “I have never heard you speak thusly.”
Elladan grinned. “I did once. We were but twenty years of age and one of our older classmates called me a spoiled elfling. Elrohir’s fury is awesome when roused.”
Legolas found himself chuckling. “I never would have guessed.” Running his thumb across Elrohir’s full lips, he smiled. “Thank you for believing in me, my elf-knight.” He blinked slowly as Elrohir pressed his lips to the palm of his hand.
“Let us stay,” Elrohir whispered. “Let us share your bed again.”
“Yes,” Elladan purred into Legolas’ ear. “We miss you, so much.”
Legolas closed his eyes and leaned back into Elladan’s sure embrace. “And I have missed you,” he whispered. “Yes, stay.”
*****
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