Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Legolas ar Yende Beriorgano (#485)
Author: boz4PM
Chapters: 28

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: In a dark hour help, unlooked for, is shown to Legolas. This is a tale of kindness, connection, and friendship between mortal and elf but can it ever be more than that? Mainly set post the War of the Ring. Romance, plenty of angst, and some humour too.
Published: 27 Dec 2003
Updated: 04 Feb 2004
Warnings: angst; rating will change to NC17 later
Type: Romance
Characters: Legolas; OCs; Aragorn; Arwen & many others


Chapter 1 - Introduction and The Story so Far

Introduction – The Story So Far....
(i.e. disclaimer, notes and ‘the story so far’ – if you read nothing else read that last bit so you know what has happened prior to chapter 1)


Disclaimer: I only own Fuineth, Túveren, Calloneb, Elsbeth, Orodor, Beriorgan, Tilgor, Mirriel, Lotheliel, Gwenneth, Naril, Anardor, Elsilion and Elenros. (Anyone interested may like to know there may be stories involving some of these characters coming soon)
The rest are of course owned by the great man himself and I sincerely apologise for what has happened to them all in this story (poor Legolas in particular).


Author’s Note: Firstly, be aware that this is an AU – Alternate Universe – story, i.e. there is stuff in it that is NOT canon (though not much). Specifically, I wish to make it clear that I know full well that elves are not highly sexual people, that sex = marriage for them, and I am reliably informed that Morgoth’s Ring (HoME) tells us that non-consensual sex would destroy their spirit. However, this story is based on another that I have read – reading it set off a bunny in my head - and the AU elements of the story revolve around the above matters as not being true: therefore for the purposes of this story elves are sexual, do have sex before marriage and non-consensual sex does not kill them (however emotionally traumatic). If that is a problem, stop now and don’t read this story, or the one it is based on.

I would highly recommend (indeed insist) anyone reading this to read ‘Unrepentant, Unforgiven’ by Le Rouet first. It is the story that led to mine, and my story will make a lot more sense if you do read it first. You can find it here at ‘Open Scrolls Archive’ (www.openscrolls.net) in the Alternate Universe section. It is a great story, but it is R rated (mainly for the 2nd and second to last chapters). The chapters that are particularly relevant to my story are chapters 1 (the drugging), 2 (the forced seduction), 6 (the fight in Osgiliath) & 7 (the whole tale is told), though the second to last chapter will also explain to you what the ‘Cauldron Ceremony’ is.

The story itself is based on your usual ‘What if...’ AU plot bunny. In the case of ‘Unrepentant, Unforgiven’ it was: ‘What if Eowyn didn’t want to die a virgin and the elves had a known potent aphrodisiac?’ The plot bunny that grabbed me on reading it was: ‘What if someone was around to help in that situation, even if only in the aftermath of it all?’ and so my story was born. My sincere thanks go to Le Rouet for giving me permission to use her story as a basis for mine. She is clearly mad, but I am in her debt.

I hasten to add the only reason why this story revolves round Legolas is because the original story did. The only reason why the female lead is human but with a bizarre past is because that is the only way I could get the story to work and it seemed less fantastical than having an elf as a lady-in-waiting in Edoras. If I could have made her elven, she would have been. As it was she had to be human, but then I had to explain her knowledge of things elvish, hence her history. I know all of this makes the story a bit of a classic Mary-Sue ‘Legomance’, but the bunny was gnawing my knee off and I had little option but succumb, write the **** thing and make it work somehow. I can only apologise and hope that the plot and writing compensate for it (though that’s unlikely!), and if not: well, I did warn you but you are still free to beat me over the head with a large, blunt object.

Any elvish used in the story is Sindarin which was the main language used amongst the elves by the Third Age. Quenyan was mainly a scholastic language by that point though it does appear once in the story during a ceremonial occasion. A glossary for any elvish used in any given chapter is provided at the end of that chapter.

One last important point: Yes, this is a ‘Legomance’ but it is NOT movieverse. My Legolas does NOT look like Orlando Bloom! If you want some idea of how my Legolas looks then go and look at this picture: http://www.edoras-art.de/cgi-bin/eissmann.pl?file=lotr_cerin-amroth.jpg
This is actually a watercolour of Haldir with Frodo in Lothlorien, but I was amazed when I found it because in it Haldir is the spitting image of Legolas as I see him both in my head and in this story.


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The ‘story so far’:

The scene is Edoras, just after Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli arrive. Eowyn is distressed by the lack of response she is getting from Aragorn, and therefore determines she will try to die in battle rather than live with her love for him unrequited. She does not wish to die a maid, however. Meanwhile the Fellowship are being fed, and the cake presented to them does not suit them, but Legolas realises in horror, and too late, that the reason it tastes a little strange to the others is because it is made with honey and oak leaves – a combination (the oak leaves in particular) that is a powerful aphrodisiac, with near immediate effect, for woodland (Silvan or Sindarin) elves. Gandalf realises its’ significance and Aragorn has heard of it (though never realised it to be true). Legolas shuts himself in his chambers and begins to make himself violently ill with the other three, though bewildered as to why anyone should do such a thing, offering (much to Legolas’s fury) to find him a wench to ‘ease’ his discomfort but he will have none of it preferring to lock his door and wait it out. The others assume he is going to be in a filthy mood for the next few days and think nothing more of it.

Eowyn has a secret hiding place in her rooms (a hole in the wall/grate with a loose brick) where there is a book explaining about oak leaves and honey, and also that the points on the ears of an elf are a very sensitive erogenous zone. She has two pots with her, and a set of keys. She goes to Legolas’s room. On the pretence that she has heard he was ill she insists he take some soup before she leaves. He is wary but, hoping it will get her to go, drinks the soup not realising till it is too late that there are yet more oak leaves in it. She is on him, knife to his throat, and the other pot, filled with honey and oak leaves which she forces him to eat till he is not himself, and can resist it no longer. She has given him *far* too much (there was already too much just in the cake) – the smallest amount is all that is needed – and she could have killed him with the dose as Queen Arwen says when years later the full tale is dragged out of Legolas by her and Aragorn. Eowyn also twists and pulls his ears till they are bruised and bleeding, when the merest touch would have sufficed.

Her maidenhead is taken, though he is not gentle (barely even knowing who he is by now). As it finishes, however, they are disturbed by a woman rushing in, armed, shaking in anger and distress. Eowyn grabs for the knife fallen to the floor in an attempt to deal with this intruder who has shamed her by discovering her in her act. Legolas, the effects wearing off a little by now, disarms Eowyn and heaps insults upon her in his fury. She explains why she has done it and says she will say he raped her if he breathes a word. He pushes her to the door, but then he grabs her through her skirts, and using Elvish healing, heals her maidenhead. He throws her out and slams the door upon her.

The other woman is still in his room...


Chapter 2 - Edoras

Chapter 1 ~ Edoras

He was intrigued by this human, this mortal, who seemed to know so much about his kind.

He had lain there, mesmerised, as she had quietly sung a song to herself in Quenya, one he had never heard before, marvelling at hearing that ancient tongue spoken with a mortal’s accent. It had sounded beautiful, if strange, to his ears. He wondered if she had understood that which she sang. He guessed not, or not word for word at least.

The song itself had brought tears to his eyes. It told of an elf maid and a man who had fallen in love, and yet she had sailed west when he lay dead and buried in the earth. A lament on the impossibilities of such a union. Yet he thought of Aragorn and Arwen and their betrothal, and then shook his head. He could not understand how any elf could choose a mortal above their own kind. Not that he thought Arwen foolish by any means, merely that it was incomprehensible to him.

Her song had finished. She was staring at the fire, her back to him, not moving. No doubt she thought him to be asleep. He ached for her, though he knew it was not himself that thought thus. The tenderness and sorrow he had seen her eyes had overwhelmed him, and though it shamed him to have had anyone see him in that state, at the same time he could not help but feel grateful to her, not only for her intervention, but also for the understanding and kindness she had shown him.

It was clear she understood the significance of what had been forced into him. She had kept her distance and deliberately avoided eye contact, clearly not wishing to impose on or embarrass him, nor elicit from him a response he could not control.

As he had closed the door on the figure of Eowyn slumped in ignominy upon the cold stone floor of the corridor outside, he had turned to this woman, this stranger in his room, not able to look at her in his shame and rage. Averting her eyes, she had quietly handed him the blanket she had come wrapped in so he could cover his nakedness. Then she had stripped the bed, while he sat, slumped in a corner, feeling his guts turn and his head spin till he vomited violently and at length.

When he had finished, she had turned towards him, carefully keeping her distance. Neither of them had spoken. Then, “My lord...” she began, hesitantly, with a gentle tone in her voice. He had looked up at her then, and could see her eyes filling with tears.

“I have no wish to impose, or cause you discomfort. I.. I understand your...” She was clearly searching for the word to use. “..Predicament.”

He felt his jaw tighten and a scowl pass over his face. She clearly saw it too and dropped her head worried she may have spoken out of turn.

“If you wish me to leave, I will do so, but ... if you feel you are able, I would like to fetch some warm water and some cloths for your.. wounds.”

She spoke so quietly that he felt that anyone without elven hearing may not have heard her. She looked up towards him again, pleading, distressed. He nodded slowly not sure if this was a wise idea.

“I will return as best I can, my lord. Three knocks and you will know that it is me.”

She moved towards the table near him where she had thrown the keys she had used to let herself in to his room, then hesitated, realising she was drawing close.

“My lord... forgive me... I must return the keys...”

Her tone was apologetic, but she did not move any closer to him. He realised what she was asking, and stood up, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself and moved away from her. She stepped forward, taking the keys and as she neared the door she picked up the long knife she had brought with her from where it had fallen.

She turned to him once more, “Try to make yourself bring up anymore of it that you can. Bolt the door after me as well as locking it. Three knocks, do not forget. If you decide you do not wish to open, I shall leave the water outside the door for you.” Then she was gone.

The prince could barely believe what had occurred. His mind was reeling. His shame and anger nearly consumed his entire being. He was not sure he should let this woman return, yet there was something about her, about her demeanour, that made him feel that he might be able to control himself in her presence. Then he felt the nausea once more, and he felt himself falling towards the chamber pot, retching miserably.

Fuineth ran as quickly as she could to the guards’ room. She placed the keys back on the hook and the knife beside it. She hurried to the servants’ quarters, leaving the sheets in the pile with the rest of tomorrow’s laundry and grabbing some clean ones. Then she got a bowl from the shelves in the kitchens, poured water into a pot and warmed it on the glowing embers in the fire. Pouring the water into a jug, and taking the bowl with her, she quickly returned to her chambers and fetched a leather bag and a small, stoppered pot. Then she returned to his room.

She knocked. She waited, her breath held, hoping she would hear the sound of him unbolting the door, though half expecting to not hear it at all, nor would she have blamed him if she did not. Her heart burned at the thought of what had happened, and her anger and distress at seeing him, one of the Eldar, in such a state made her boil.

She was about to set down the water and leave when she heard the bolts drawn back, and the door pulled open. She stepped inside, moving away from him as quickly as possible to keep him at his ease. Placing the bowl and jug on the table in one corner she worked as fast as she could, pouring the water into the bowl and then taking out some dried leaves from the bag she had got from her room. She broke and crumbled them into the warm water, stirring them in with her finger.

She could feel his eyes on her, watching her, possibly not trusting her, and most certainly resenting her presence and her knowledge of what had taken place – of this she felt sure. She moved, with the sheets, toward the stripped bare bed. He stepped back, allowing her to place the sheets and a blanket on it for him. When she was done she moved back to the table and the bowl.

As the aroma of the herbs filled the room, he spoke, the amazement clear in his voice, “Athelas!”

“Yes, my lord. My father’s people use it, though here they think it but a common weed.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see him smile, though whether it was at the smell of the herb, or at the ignorance of the Rohirrim she did not know.

She took some cloth she had taken from the kitchens and began to tear it into strips. She then picked up the bowl and turned towards him. Her tone was shy, though sincere, as she said, “I would willing bathe your wounds for you, my lord, but I do not know if... You might prefer that you yourself... I have no desire to make you uncomfortable, my lord,” she ended, clearly not quite knowing how to put it.

He winced, though he was grateful for her tact. Then he saw that she was looking at him, at the cut in his neck, and then he saw her eyes flick up.. to his right ear.

She gasped and, before she could stop herself, she felt her throat tighten.

He saw the tears in her eyes once more, and then saw one brim over and fall. He covered his ear with his hand, and she flushed, looking down once more, realising she had made him self-conscious.

“I will do it. Thankyou,” his voice was thick and quiet.

She nodded and moved to the bed, setting down the bowl and cloths, as well as the stoppered pot. “This is some balm. It will help to ease the pain and quicken healing.” Then she moved back to the far side of the room and the fire and he could see her wiping away her tears as she went.

He began dipping the cloths in the scented water and cleaning first the deep cut on his shoulder, then the cut at his neck, and tending to his scratched and bruised ears. He could see her turn away and flinch in distress at his sharp intakes of breath at the pain when he touched any one of these places. She had understood the significance of the ears then. And she was using athelas. She was no ordinary Rohirrim, clearly.

Her voice broke the silence, “My lord. Forgive me if I seem over bold, but..” Her voice fell quiet once more, her back still to him. He waited. “I am afraid that she may yet try to come again. I know you are a worthy warrior, I am sure, but..” She paused once more. “..You are not yourself, if you will forgive my saying so.”

Again the silence, as if she was trying to choose her words very carefully, and also waiting for him to interrupt her, perhaps in fear that he may be angered by her presumptuousness. “I know full well you may not want me here, and indeed that it may not be wise..,” she had that right, he thought, “but I wish to stay, if only since my presence here would be enough to shame her,” she spat out the word with unmistakeable venom in her voice, “from trying once more to... If you do not wish me to stay, I will understand, my lord, of course, but know that in that case I will stay, will you or no, outside your door till cock-crow. After then the servants will awaken and she will not venture outside her chambers beyond that hour.” She then added, “I am sure you do not wish anyone else to know about this, which is why I do not dream of suggesting I wake your friends to stay with you.”

At first he did not know what to say or think. Her distress and understanding of his situation was evident. He was bewildered by it given that it was coming from a mortal and a complete stranger. At the same time he had no desire to deal with a repeat of the evening’s earlier events, nor did he wish that this lady put herself to the discomfort of spending the night on the stone flags outside his door. He could feel the worst of the passion was passed, though its effects were still strong within him. If she remained still and quiet he may be able to cope, but there was something about her behaviour so far that led him to trust that if he found himself overcome she would leave, and leave before anything could occur. He could certainly understand her logic: if he was not alone, nothing would or could be tried, though he doubted the white lady of Rohan would return. Added to which, she was right: he certainly did not want anyone else to know.

She was half-turned towards him now, watching as he bathed his neck as he considered. She kept her eyes low, never looking him in the eye. He understood and was moved by her consideration. “Very well,” was all he said at last.

She silently nodded. She turned towards the fire once more, sitting on the stool nearby and keeping her back to him.

When he had finished with the athelas and water, and had bandaged his shoulder as best he could, he lay down in the bed once more, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the wall and away from the quiet figure in front of the fire. It was some time later that she had begun to sing, quietly and to herself, and he had lain there transfixed by the sound.

Her voice trailed off into silence. She heard him stir in the darkness behind her.

“You sing in the ancient tongue?” he had then said quietly.

She had forgotten his presence for a while, and had barely realised she had sung, or sung so loud. She now felt foolish. “Forgive me, my lord. I forgot myself,” she murmured, not turning to him once. “It is a song I learnt from my father, before I was brought to Rohan.”

“Do you understand that which you were sing?” he asked, his tone gentle.

“Some, though in truth I do not understand all the words, but I know the story that they tell.”

He smiled in the dark: so his guess had been right then. “It is a sad tale,” he replied and he saw her nod. “And how is it that your father knew a Quenyan song to teach you, one that even I have not heard before?”

There was a silence. Then her voice came low, barely above a whisper, “He was of the people of the North, the Dúnedain, though he died long ago.”

He nodded in the darkness. Now he understood, or at least in part. The connection between the Dúnedain and his kind was clear and well known, as evidenced most clearly in Aragorn himself. He had wondered at her dark colouring too, so unusual here amongst the Rohirrim, but this now explained it and her use and knowledge of athelas.

“Try and get some sleep, my lord, or if you cannot, then rest at least.” She had looked towards him briefly as she said this, and for a moment their eyes met, though she had looked away as soon as he had caught her gaze.

He nodded, and lay back on the bed wondering at the compassion and tenderness he had seen in her face.


As soon as the first cock crowed she stirred. “I will leave you now, my lord. There will be no more disturbance for you this night, of that I am certain.”

He did not move. Then, as he heard her step toward the door and draw the bolt, he turned and sat upright in his bed. “Wait.”

She stopped, though she did not turn towards him.

“I do not even know your name.”

A brief silence; then, “Fuineth.”

She glanced up at him as he said, unable to keep the approval out of his voice, “A Sindarin name,” and smiled.

There was again a brief silence, awkward and yet pregnant, as if they were both waiting for the other to speak. She moved her hand toward the door once more and as she did so he said, quietly, not able to look at her this time, “Thank you. Thank you for your kindness. I shall never forget it.”

She turned her head, keeping her gaze to the floor, smiled gently and murmured, “You have my word that no-one shall know of what occurred here this night. You have my promise. Avo ‘osto. Henion, hîr nín,” before opening the door and leaving him staring in astonishment as she shut it behind her.


avo ‘osto = Do not worry
henion = I understand
hîr nín = my lord


Chapter 3 - Helm's Deep

Chapter 2 ~ Helm’s Deep



Legolas was standing outside the Golden Hall early next morning. The elf had his hood up, covering his ears, and a cloth around his neck so that none might see his injuries. The morning was clear, if cold, and he could feel the wind whipping against his legs. All around Edoras there was movement. Men saddling their horses, women watching anxiously, boys playing with their fathers swords.

Aragorn and Gimli were deep in conversation next to him and did not notice the young woman run out from the buildings where they had spent the night. Legolas watched as she disappeared from view, only to appear some minutes later with a horse. She disappeared once more, returning with a saddle and bridle and began to ready the animal, a brown mare from what he could tell.

His gaze could not move from her, as she worked frantically and with haste. He could tell she had been crying. He could hear, even in the wind, her choked sobs as she worked. He could guess what had happened, and it pained him. He felt the anger and bile build within him. The indignity and shame he had been put to were bad enough without this woman, who had shown him such kindness, being made to suffer too.

Aragorn was talking to him, and he had little option but to turn and respond, though he did so distractedly. When he was next able to turn back, she was gone once more, though the horse was now fully saddled. She returned soon enough, carrying a bundle with her, which she tied on to the back of the horse.

It was only as she then mounted, turned the horse and headed down the hill that Legolas realised what was happening.

Before he could move, a young man came running out of the buildings to his right, chasing after the retreating figure of the horse and the young woman now halfway down the hill of Edoras and nearing the gate. The man was shouting her name and then, when she failed to stop, ran cursing back up the hill.

Aragorn and Gimli now turned to see what was happening. Hama came forward, and ran down the steps towards the young man. “Túveren, what has happened? Was that your sister?”

The young man, already dressed in his armour ready for their leaving, was moving off towards the stables at full speed. He led a horse out, already saddled, and mounted it swiftly. As he turned the head of the animal to face downhill, Legolas could hear him shout towards Hama, “I’m going after her!”

Hama nodded, and with that the man was gone, galloping full tilt down the hill after his sister, people having to move swiftly out of the way of the horse as he rode it like a man possessed.

Legolas’s face was grim. Hama came slowly up the steps towards them shaking his head and chuckling. At Aragorn’s questioning gaze he said, “Do not ask me, I have no idea. That was Túveren. His mother was Rohirrim, but his father from the North.”

Aragorn looked surprised, then concerned, “I knew his father. He was of my people, the Dúnedain. Túveren, and a younger daughter he had, whose name I now forget.”

Hama nodded, “Yes, Fuineth. It was she who rode off first, and whom Túveren is now chasing. She is one of Eowyn’s ladies-in-waiting.”

Legolas caught his breath.


She could hear him calling, but did not stop. She could barely see her tears blinded her so. She wanted to keep riding and riding, full pelt, to ease the rage she could feel within her.

“Fuineth! Fuineth! Sister! I know you can hear me! Stop! Fuineth!”

He was getting closer. His horse was faster than hers, and he rode like a maniac as it was, so she slowed, and let him catch up with her.

He drew alongside her, turning to her with his eyes blazing. “What is wrong with you?! What on earth are you doing?!” Then he saw her tears, and the fury and distress in her eyes. “What is it? What has happened?”

She shook her head.

Their horses now stopped, he reached over to take her hand, his brow knitted together in concern. “Fuineth?”

The tears flowed hot and fast now, but still she shook her head. “I cannot... I have been told to leave. I have offended the Lady Eowyn.” She looked up at his intake of breath, “I cannot say what has occurred, it would offend her further. But please know, dear brother, that I have done nothing wrong. That is all I can say to you. Know also that even if I had not been dismissed from her side I would not wish to stay.”

He looked at her sharply, hearing the disgust and loathing in her voice: a tone that he had never heard his sister use before, and he could not keep the shock from his face.

She looked into his eyes. “Do not ask, brother. Do not ask, for I will not, nor will I ever, relate what has occurred.”

Something in her tone, and in her glance told him she was resolute. He nodded. What more could he do? “But you cannot leave. Where will you go? You cannot travel alone and even if I come with you it is too dangerous in these times. We are to ride to war, Fuineth.”

“I will head North, to our father’s country. It may be I can find a place there to stay...,” her voice trailed away, uncertain.

“You cannot. Not now. Fuineth, to do so would take you past Isengard... and the voyage is a treacherous one even in safe times.”

“Well what would you have me do?” she spat at him. “I cannot stay, nor will I stay willingly after what has occurred. I must go, though I know not where.”

“Come with me, back to Edoras. Maybe we can speak to Theoden King, ask him to speak to his sister-daughter, ask her to reconsider.”

“No! You must speak of this to no-one, understand me?” He looked at her, stunned. “I mean it, Túveren! No-one.” She looked into his eyes pleadingly.

He nodded, mute. “Very well,” he said at last. “I will ask if you can accompany the few women who will come with us to Helm’s Deep. I will explain our intention is to leave Rohan once battle is won. But you needs must return, Fuineth, till we set off.” She nodded, reluctantly, and spoke no more.


Legolas could just seem them over the high wall, some way into the valley: the young man speaking urgently to his sister, his hand in hers. He was relieved when he saw them turn at last and head back towards Edoras. After some time the young man trotted his horse to the top of the hill once more, though his sister was not with him. Clearly she had stayed near the gate. The young man leapt from his horse, took it to the stables and then made to climb up the stairs towards the Golden Hall. Legolas felt apprehensive, wondering if she had been able to keep her promise to him under her brother’s questioning, but the young man did not even turn to look at him as he came towards them.

“Túveren?” Aragorn was moving towards him.

The young man started at hearing his name. “Yes?” he stopped and looked puzzled. Then he smiled, “You are the Dúnedan from the North. Mae govannen, my lord.”

Aragorn smiled in return, “Mae govannen indeed. It is strange to hear the elvish tongue from the lips of a mortal in Rohan, is it not Legolas?”

He turned towards the elf, who could not help himself but smile, if thinly, at the use of Sindarin in this place of the Rohirrim. “Indeed, Aragorn. Something to be marvelled at, no doubt.”

“Ah, but this is not an ordinary Rohirrim, Legolas.” Aragorn smiled towards the now bewildered Túveren. “I knew Beriorgan, your father. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood.”

Túveren bowed low, “I am honoured.”

“Is everything well? With your sister?” Aragorn asked, as gently as he could.

The young man stiffened slightly. “Thankyou, my lord, but she has returned. I am about to ask if she can accompany us to Helm’s Deep.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow.

“We are to head North to your country as soon as we are able and do not intend to return to Edoras.” Aragorn was clearly surprised, though he said nothing. Legolas could feel his blood boil, though he maintained his composure.

Aragorn spoke. “If you would receive council, Túveren, it would be best that your sister stay with the other women and children. A battle, and one as difficult as this may yet prove to be, is no place for her. Your father is dead. You are responsible for her now.”

Túveren’s eyes flashed, but he sounded calm. “I know full well my responsibilities, my lord, I thank you. My sister, for reasons she will not tell me, cannot stay nor wishes to. I cannot persuade her otherwise. If I do not take her with me she is resolved to travel north alone, nor will she be deterred. There is little I can do, my lord. Besides there are caves near there where many of the folk of the Westfold will take their women and children: they will have nowhere else to run. She may stay with them.”

Aragorn nodded. He was not going to press the matter further. They were young, and would not be advised, that much was clear.

As the young man headed towards the doors of the Hall, Legolas could not bear it and turned away. His rage was such he could feel himself shaking, and he did not want the others to see him in such a state.

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When they came to leave Lady Eowyn was there. She seemed so cool and calm it made Legolas near sick to his stomach to see it. He would not avoid her gaze, but looked at her with undisguised loathing. She did have the grace to look away and flush slightly. He could see Túveren somewhere near the middle of the eored, though there was no sign of his sister. No doubt travelling with the boys and few women who were with the loaded wagons of armoury and supplies.

The eored halted at dusk to set up camp. Legolas and Gimli were talking quietly together while Aragorn smoked a pipe. They looked up as they heard someone approach.

“Forgive me, my lords but we have some broth here, if you would like it.” She indicated to her left where a woman was busy ladelling liquid from a cauldron into waiting bowls.

Legolas looked at her. She had not seen him. Aragorn murmured, a “Thank you, my lady,” and she went to fetch it for them.

She returned with one bowl and three spoons. “We do not have enough bowls. You will have to share,” she apologised.

“It is of no consequence,” Aragorn reassured her, “Thank you.”

She smiled and then made to go when for the first time she noticed the elf, regarding her calmly from where he sat. Still smiling, she nodded, almost imperceptibly, and he, acknowledging her greeting, inclined his head and smiled also. Then she was gone.

After some time she returned to collect the bowl, by which time Gandalf had joined them. She was apologetic on seeing him, thinking perhaps she had not noticed him there before. “Have you had some broth? Would you like something to eat?”

Gandalf smiled his thanks, and Legolas watched her disappear and reappear once more. He stayed in the shadows, away from the firelight, but he could tell that she was aware of his presence. Just once, not that anyone would notice, her eyes flicked up towards him.

When she returned again for Gandalf’s bowl this time she stopped, turning to Aragorn. “Forgive me, my lord ...” she spoke hesitantly, and Legolas, though trying to listen to Gandalf’s tale, felt himself straining to hear her voice over Gimli’s laughter.

Aragorn looked up, his grey eyes shining in the firelight.

“My brother, Túveren ... he told that you knew my father.”

Aragorn nodded, smiling kindly now. “I did indeed, my child. Beriorgan was a good and kind man. I grieved long at his passing.”

She smiled, “It warms my heart to meet someone who knew him. We have long been separated from his people, though my brother has travelled north many times in the past, and told me much. Your kind words of my father move me much, my lord. Le hannon. It is an honour to meet you.” Aragorn nodded his head and she left.

She moved back to the cauldron and helped serve the last of the food. She thanked the Valar Theoden had let her travel with her brother without too much questioning.

She had not seen the elf at first round the fire with the Dúnedan. She so wanted to ask if he was alright, offer him athelas if he needed it, but she knew it was not possible nor proper for her to do so. He would not want to be reminded of it, nor did she wish to shame him by raising the memory of it once more.

She turned over in her mind the morning’s events: the rage and fury, the fell words and screaming. Her mistress had been sore wroth in her shame and ignominy and Fuineth had taken the full brunt. She had known it would happen. As soon as she had realised, as soon as she had gone to Eowyn’s chambers and found them empty, had taken the brick from where she had seen her mistress hide that book and found the entire pot emptied and felt her stomach turn, as soon as she had made that decision to put a stop to it if it wasn’t too late, she had known. Known that the humiliation her mistress would feel had having been discovered would be enough for her to feel the sharpness of her tongue, and the back of her hand.

Yet she had wept most for the humiliation the elf must feel and the thought of it had cut her to the core. She had been amazed, indeed pleased, that he had allowed her to help him, given the shame he must have felt to know she had seen him like that: helpless, raging, naked and abased.

She could feel the tears rising even now.

She huddled closer to her brother in the cold night air. No. She would not return to Edoras so long as *she* remained there. On that she was determined.

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Legolas only saw Fuineth briefly on the rest of the journey to Helm’s Deep. She did not have an opportunity to bring them their food again, nor indeed to come anywhere near him, but he saw her now and then moving through the camp tending to those who needed help and giving out food and water. He was touched by the gentleness he saw in her and the manner in which she treated everyone, no matter their station or age. When they reached Helm’s Deep itself she was sent to the caves with the women, children and old of the Westfold, as her brother directed, and Legolas saw no more of her again till it was all over.

As he and Aragorn headed back up the gorge to the Deeping Wall after the battle and rode through it with the Rohirrim, he saw her: kneeling with a water sac to the lips of a dying man.

He felt his throat tighten as he saw her face wet with tears as she wiped the hair from the man’s brow and murmured gently to him, no doubt trying to ease his last few moments on this earth. The man’s head fell back with a last long sigh, and she stayed still for a moment, her head bowed. Then she closed the man’s eyes, laid his head gently back to the floor, and moved on.

There was a groan and someone held out their hand toward her. She ran to them, kneeling next to them and bringing water to their lips. Legolas, still a little way off, could see her struggling to push the body of an Uruk off the injured man.

As they drew nearer she looked around her, calling to anyone who might listen, “Help me, please! I have not the strength. This man is wounded, he must be taken to the Burg and tended to.”

Aragorn stopped immediately on hearing her, and Legolas leapt down from his horse. Aragorn began directing the Rohirrim to start looking among the dead and dying for the injured, to tend to them and bring them to the keep. He moved towards Fuineth, as did Legolas, and between them they pulled the Uruk off the man. He had a serious shoulder wound.

She smiled gratefully at them. “Thankyou. Could you get someone to take him?”

“Of course, my lady,” Aragorn answered and, before Legolas could stop him, bent to lift the man, armour and all, into his arms.

The man groaned in pain but Fuineth held his hand briefly, saying, “Have no fear, my lord.”

As Aragorn staggered off with his burden, and a Rohirrim ran to help him, Legolas turned to her. His voice was gentle, “This is no place for you, my lady. There are sights here I would not have you see.”

She did not look at him, but murmured, “These are my mother’s people, lord elf, I must do what I may for them. I am no warrior like my brother and I could not serve them in battle, but I may at least bring some peace to the dying, or help the injured.”

He nodded. “Then give me one of the water sacs, my lady. Let me help you in this work.”

She smiled in gratitude, their eyes meeting briefly for one second as she handed one of the water sacs she was carrying to him. “Le hannon,” she murmured. Legolas nodded once more but said nothing.

They worked quickly and tirelessly. Every time Legolas glanced over to her he could see her murmuring words of comfort, calling for someone to carry the injured, or else saying prayers over those who died as she was with them.

Then he heard her cry out. He ran to her, “My lady?”

She was ashen, shaking. He crouched down on the other side of the prone figure she was kneeling next to. She was wiping the hair from the figure’s face, and murmuring his name over and again. She looked pleadingly at Legolas. She was struggling to raise the man’s head to get him to drink something, and as she did so Legolas could see that it was Túveren and he was pale and breathing shallowly.

“Let me,” he said as he placed his right arm under Túveren’s head and raised it so she could get the water to his lips.

“Túveren? Try to drink something.” Legolas could hear the tremor in her voice.

Túveren moaned slightly, and his eyes slowly opened. “Fuineth?”

“Shh. Don’t try and speak. Here, drink.” She poured water between his lips and he managed to swallow with some difficulty.

She was undoing his belt and jerkin now, trying to see if she could remove them to see how badly he had been hurt. Legolas stopped her, his hand over hers. “Don’t. Not here. We must get him inside first.”

She nodded, dumb, her tears rolling silently down her face, too shocked to even react to the elf’s touching her. She hadn’t even noticed it.

“Aragorn! Aragorn, come quick!” The elf was on his feet now.

Aragorn, not far away, and bending over another injured man, stood and came quickly. Two other Rohirrim, hearing Legolas’s cries came too. Fuineth stood back as they lifted him as gently as they could and took him inside.

For a brief moment she felt her knees buckle, and she might have fallen had the elf not caught her arm and steadied her. Legolas watched her as she moved to follow them. “I will come and visit him. He is strong, he will heal quickly,” he said as she passed him.

She stopped, looking him full in the face for the first time. “Thank you,” she murmured. He smiled kindly, released her arm and let her go.

Once all the injured had been taken from the battlefield, Legolas went inside to see if there was anything he could do. Aragorn and Gandalf were moving amongst the wounded directing and administering medical care as it was needed. Some were clearly too badly injured and would not survive the night. Others, though out of the war, would at least survive to see another day. Legolas helped as best he could, using what skills and elvish powers he had to heal those he was able to.

At one end of the long room he could see her sat beside her brother who was laid out on the floor. She had his hand in hers and was busy wiping and smoothing his brow.

As he neared her he could hear she was singing in a voice so low hardly anyone would have heard it. He knew the song. It was a Sindarin lullaby. His eyes filled with tears.

He knelt on the floor beside Túveren. His breathing was less shallow and ragged than it had been before, which was a good sign, but he had been badly injured. She stopped her song and looked at him.

“He is getting better, I can see that,” he told her, trying to reassure her.

She smiled gratefully, but he could still see the concern in her eyes. “The athelas has helped him a little, I think, though I did not have much to use for the many here. He seems calmer, more sleeping than unconscious now.”

Legolas nodded. “Where was he hurt?” She pulled back the sheet. He could see the bandage on his chest, already blood seeping through it. “I will do what I can,” he said.

As she looked at him, with surprise in her eyes, he smiled, “Do not be alarmed, my lady, you must know of the healing powers of elves.”

She nodded, “It’s just ... you are the first elf I have met ... or remember meeting. I have heard of such things, of course ...” then her voice trailed away, remembering his savage grasp of Eowyn that night and the ‘healing’ he had performed on her. Suddenly she could not look in his eye. Legolas sensed what it was she had remembered and his face became grim.

He laid his hand on the bloodstain and murmured words that she did not understand. He remained like that for some minutes. Perhaps she imagined it, but when he had finished she thought there seemed to be more colour in her brother’s face, and his breathing was more controlled and relaxed than before.

Legolas sat back. “There. That will help and speed things up, if Eru wills.”

She pulled the sheet back up, and looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Thank you for your kindness, my lord,” she whispered.

He smiled, held her gaze for the briefest of moments and then turned and left.

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Fuineth came out with the people to see Theoden King and his men ride to Isengard. Her eyes scanned over the riders, tall, proud warriors all, as she joined in the victory song with the rest. She could see the elf with the dwarf sat behind him and smiled at the strange friendship clearly held between these two. The elf was deep in conversation as he rode beside Eomer, not noticing the crowds that had come out to see them off as they rode down towards the strange trees that had appeared. The singing voices faltered as the men came near to them, a fear gripping the people of what their minds could not comprehend. Yet as the trees parted and a way was made for the riders Fuineth felt her heart lift somehow to see such wonders, and such wonders work for them rather than against, and she felt then that there was hope.

As she watched the last of the riders disappear into the shadows of the trees she thought she saw the blond head of the tall elf turn, looking back over his shoulder towards the assembled people; and it seemed to her, though she could not be sure, he was looking for someone: a comrade in arms from the battle, no doubt.

She turned as they disappeared from view, to go back to her brother’s bedside.



Mae govannen = well met
Le hannon = I thank thee


Chapter 4 - Dunedain

Chapter 3 ~ The Dúnedain



Túveren healed quickly, the elf’s intervention having helped considerably. He was indeed healthy and strong, as Legolas had said, and that had stood him in good stead.

When three days had passed and the company returned from Isengard late in the night, bringing the news of its ruin and fall, Túveren was up and walking, and even insisting on helping prepare for the return to Edoras the next day.

Aragorn found him sharpening swords in the hall of the Keep. “Mae govannen, Túveren. It cheers my heart to see you healing and strong once more. You were sore wounded.”

“I know full well, my lord. My sister has taken good care of me, though she would fain have me rest still. But how can I rest when I know what is asked of us at this hour?” Aragorn smiled and nodded.

Túveren stood as Legolas approached them. “I believe you have need of my thanks, my lord Legolas. My sister told me what you did for me. I do not think I can ever repay your kindness.”

“It was nothing,” murmured Legolas, “I am simply glad to see you well.”

Aragorn grabbed the young man by the shoulder. “Come, lay aside your work for a while, there are some people I would have you meet.”

He indicated the group of men, standing to one side, their clothes dark and grey, weather-worn but strong and tall, they surveyed the business before them. “These are your father’s kin, come to us in our darkest hour. Some you know already, I believe.”

“Indeed,” said Túveren smiling broadly and stepping forward to grasp Halbarad by the forearm, “Mae govannen, Halbarad.”

Halbarad grinned and drew the young man into an embrace, “You rascal! Thought you could scare us by getting yourself injured? I’ll have none of it I tell you.” Then he pulled back and stared into the young man’s face and spoke in a more gentle and serious tone, “I am glad you are well and were not too badly injured, or at least have healed so quickly.”

Túveren winced slightly in the older man’s grasp, “Not so entirely healed as yet, but enough. Enough that I may ride to the spearmuster at Edoras at least, and so on to war.”

His eyes blazed as he spoke, and Halbarad beamed. “Your father would be proud.”

Another Dúnedan, Halbarad’s brother Calloneb, stepped forward as Halbarad spoke, “He would indeed, brother. Túveren, it is good indeed to see you and see you well.”

Túveren grinned, “Calloneb! Mae govannen,” and the two embraced as old friends.

Halbarad’s brother continued, “And what of your sister? Where is she and how does she fare, she whom we have not seen since she was small?”

Túveren’s eyes searched the hall for her, “She is here somewhere, I believe. She is tending those more seriously injured than I.”

“Come, let us find her. I would fain see your father’s daughter now full grown.” Túveren led Halbarad and Calloneb away and Aragorn, smiling, watched them go.

After some time Calloneb returned. “You know he would ride with us, Aragorn? I do not know if we should allow him to do so or insist he return to Edoras with the king. I know we may not tread the same path as they, and he is still weak, though he hides it well.”

Aragorn nodded. He looked towards Túveren, still deep in conversation with his sister and Halbarad amongst the crowd, as he spoke, “I suspected as much I must admit. He wishes to fight or fall beside his father’s kin, and that I can understand. Let me think on it, we have some time before a decision is to be made.”

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Túveren and Fuineth were sitting together, sharing some soup and bread, as Legolas approached them. Fuineth rose just before he reached them. “I must go and tend to the others, Túveren. Please eat – you will need your strength.” She laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward to kiss his head.

His hand covered hers, and he looked round to her as she stood behind him. “Do not worry, sister. I am feeling strong again, I assure you.”

She smiled, but shook her head slightly, laughing quietly. “Túveren, will you not be told?”

She turned to go, and found herself facing Legolas. He bowed slightly, “Lady Fuineth.” he murmured.

She smiled, inclined her head. “Lord Legolas. You must forgive me, but I needs must attend to the others.”

He nodded courteously and stepped back to allow her passage past him. Then he turned to Túveren, “Would you permit me to sit with you, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Túveren indicated the bench he was seated on, “Please, my lord.”

Legolas sat and, after a brief silence, said, “I hear you have asked to ride with the Dúnedain, your father’s kin?”

Túveren nodded. “It is a hard decision, but I feel it is more beholden to me to ride with the Dúnedain than my mother’s kin. I have fought and sustained injury for Rohan, now Arnor deserves my sword.”

Legolas nodded. He could understand that and would possibly have made the same decision had he been in the young soldier’s place. “And what of your sister?”

Túveren, spoon held half way to his mouth, stopped and looked at Legolas, “She will not be neglected, my lord.”

Hastily Legolas tried to reassure him. “Do not misunderstand me, Túveren. I am not suggesting that by riding with us you would neglect her. It’s just... we may not be riding back to Edoras, you do know that?”

Túveren put down his spoon, but did not turn towards the elf. “No,” he said simply, “I did not know.”

“Is there one among the company returning to Edoras that you may trust with your sister’s care?”

Túveren nodded. “I have a cousin. His father fell here by my side, my mother’s brother.”

But Legolas could hear the uncertainty in his voice now. “I do not tell you which path to choose, nor indeed is there any certainty that we and the Rohirrim will part company for now, but I thought you should know.”

Túveren nodded and pushed his bowl away from him. “Thankyou, Lord Legolas. You were right to tell me.”

Legolas inclined his head. “I will leave you to your meal. Forgive my intrusion, Túveren of the Dúnedain.”

Túveren smiled thinly at this title, not looking up as the elf rose and left the hall.

Fuineth had been watching them talk. She had seen the change in her brother’s demeanour. She wondered what it was the elf had said to him, though she had seen nothing but gentle concern in Legolas’s eyes when he had come to speak to him. It may be, she hoped, that he is advising him against riding to war. He is too weak still, and yet... She knew her brother of old. There was nothing that would stop him, nor would she try to do so: he was his father’s son. She would gently remind him of his needing to rest and eat and nothing more.

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Later that day, those that remained were only those that would ride with the King, those left to guard Helm’s Deep and those wounded that were too ill to ride. Of this last group, the Westfold women would take care of them until they were sufficiently healed to return home.

Túveren had tried to persuade his sister to return with the thousand spears that had set off to Edoras the night before, but she had refused. She was nervous to return as it was, even though it was now clear she had no choice, but to do so without her brother or her cousin (who would be riding with the king) was unthinkable. Late the previous night Lord Eomer had agreed she could be included in the king’s company, though she was to ride at the back with the boys and supplies once more.

The hour to leave was drawing close. Fuineth insisted her brother sit for a while and regain his strength a little, while she took the opportunity to rebandage his wound.

As she was tying off the ends of the cloth, he took her hand, and looked gently into her eyes. “Fuineth, I need to talk to you.”

She nodded, stopped, and sat on the floor beside him, looking up into his face. He reached a hand to her cheek and tenderly wiped away a tendril of her dark hair. “You know that I wish to ride with our father’s kin.” She nodded. “Well there is a possibility that they will not be riding to Edoras with the king.” She gasped. “I do not know the path they may be taking, but I have thought long and hard as to my decision. I was concerned to not come with you, especially given the circumstances under which you left ...”

Her head dropped and she could feel the tears rising once more. “Please, Túveren, do not speak of it.”

He raised her chin so he could see her, “I will not, but know this: this is a hard decision for me.” He sighed and turned his face away, letting her chin fall once more. “What would you advise me, Fuineth?”

He knew his decision, but wished to know if she thought the same before he told her. She suspected this and knew it mattered little what she would tell him, so she opened her heart to him honestly. “You should ride with the Dúnedain. Often you have travelled to them and learnt from them. They are more our kin, than these men of Rohan, no matter their kindness to us or that they are of our mother’s blood. Our hearts are more those of the Northern people, this you know, Túveren, nor do you need me to tell you.” He was looking at her now, his eyes wet. “I have my cousin’s company, and he will protect me, you know this. I shall stay at Edoras if I may ..” her voice caught, “..and I will await your return there.”

He nodded. “I had already decided to go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” she replied. She squeezed his hand. “Now rest, before you ride, brother. You will need your strength.”

He smiled, “As you do not tire of telling me, sister.” She returned his smile, but turned away and busied herself so he could not see her tears.

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The company of the King were readying themselves and mounting their charges. Legolas and Gimli sat on the steps of the Burg, watching them in silence.

Then he saw her, pushing her way through the crowds of men in her desperation to find her brother. She was turning this way and that. “Lady Fuineth,” Legolas stood and called to her.

She turned at the sound of her name, and came over to them running. “Forgive me, my lord, Master Dwarf,” Gimli stood and bowed. “Have you seen my brother?”

“He is in the Hornburg, my lady. Do you wish me to fetch him for you?”

But even as Legolas spoke Túveren was coming down the steps towards her, sword at his side, black hair pushed back from his face. His face filled with concern when he saw his sister. “Fuineth?” and he drew her to one side so they were no longer in earshot.

“That is a brave young man, there, Master Elf,” muttered Gimli. “I saw him hew down several of those Uruks before he was caught by a spear. He was fortunate it wasn’t a deeper blow.”

“Indeed,” Legolas agreed, but he was intently watching the scene below him now. She had tears streaming down her face, and Túveren was holding her to him, stroking her hair and talking in a low voice to her. She was nodding, though the pain of what he was telling her was evident.

He pulled away, both hands upon her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. “Fuineth. I will see you in Edoras. Have no fear. I am with my own; our own. No matter what may lie ahead I will find the courage in their company. Know this and let you heart be eased.”

She nodded, desperately hoping against hope that he might change his mind, but knowing it was too late. His mind was set.

He kissed her once upon the brow. “Go. Go and get ready. They are about to leave.”

She flung her arms about him once, held him close, and then, unable to look at him, she turned and pushed her way back through the throng of men and horses once more.

And as she fled she was terrified. Terrified she may never see him again, but also that ignominy and false slander may await her in Edoras and that she may have to face it all alone.

King Theoden turned to Eomer who lifted his hand and cried aloud. The horses started to move.

Legolas stood, watching them file past. Then he saw her, riding forward on her brown mare, tall and noble, her face impassive, though her eyes were ringed with red from her weeping. He was concerned she was having to travel back to Edoras without her brother. Especially given that Lady Eowyn would be there too. He tried not to show anything other than matter-of-fact courtesy in his features.

“My lady,” Legolas nodded to her as she came towards him though she was unable to meet his gaze. ‘She is fearful too,’ he thought. ‘And not just for her brother, I would warrant.’

She pulled her horse away from the throng and stopped. “My Lord Legolas. I would ask of you a small favour if I do not make too bold.”

He briefly knotted his brows together and looked at her quizzically, but she did not raise her head nor indeed her voice as she continued.

“My brother. He is still weak. I..”

He could hear the sob catch in her throat, and knew what she would ask. “Have no fear, my lady. He rides forth in good company. You have my word I will do whatever is in my power to make sure no harm comes to him.”

She lifted her head at those words, and gave him a level gaze, only the second time she had ever looked him straight in the face. Her thankfulness was clear and she did not need to utter it, nor indeed could she have spoken, straining as she was to stop the tears from falling. But even as they looked at one another for a moment she felt a tear spill over on to her cheek. She nodded her head once in farewell and gratitude.

“It is the least I can do, my lady,” added Legolas to her retreating back as she joined the company heading down the hill towards the Deeping Wall.


Mae govannen = well met


Chapter 5 - North & South

Chapter 4 ~ North and South



Elsewhere is told of the tales of those times: of the Muster of Rohan, of the Battle of Pelennor Fields, of the Dúnedain marching through the Paths of the Dead and coming at last to Minas Tirith. The Ring was destroyed, many lost their lives and fell, but in the end Sauron was overthrown and Middle Earth had a new king.

Fuineth returned to Edoras in the company of her cousin. She stayed away from the general company there, staying instead with her cousin’s family near the gate and there she comforted and aided her aunt in her grief and loss. She was relieved when it became clear that somehow Eowyn had left with the eored. She was thus able to stay there easily enough to wait for her brother’s return fearing that she might never see him again, but trusting that the company he kept would keep him safe, as she had been promised.

She slept little while the battles raged and ever she found her thoughts turning to the elf. She would ask protection from Elbereth for him as well as her brother and she wondered at her doing so. They had hardly spoken doing those brief few days in Helm’s Deep, and yet, he had always remained courteous and kind with no hint of any shame or awkwardness on his part, though she did not doubt he had felt it, just as she. But it was past now, and once battle was won or lost she would head north, to begin a new life with her brother and the Dúnedain.

Túveren rode back with Eomer, now King of Rohan, in the month of May. His sister was overjoyed at their meeting, but she would not allow him to stay long given that the Lady Eowyn had returned too.

“But it is said she will marry the Lord Faramir of Gondor,” he insisted. “You do not need to leave if she is to do so also.”

“My mind is set, and I would have left sooner but that you were not here, Túveren. We agreed, did we not? We travel north. Besides, do you not wish to show me the country you have grown to know so well that is mine by birth also?” He smiled, hugged and kissed her, knowing that she was determined and would brook no argument.

They headed north and settled amongst the Dúnedain in Arnor.

So time passed, and often her brother would travel South to the King who had allowed Túveren to grow in his affections. He would bring the King news of the North, or messages from Rivendell for both Aragorn and the queen. He had remained friends with Legolas and he visited the elves in Ithilien when he could, revelling in their company, and at times would find Legolas at home though in truth they seldom met.

So it happened that some two years after the War of the Ring had ended Túveren came to visit his sister. He had spent several long months in the South, and he needed to speak to her. She was visiting Rivendell with him as he had a message for Calloneb, who was staying with Lord Elrond.

He led her out into the gardens, and murmured low and urgently in her ear. She bowed her head listening intently, her face slowly warming into a smile and then a beam. She spun round and hugged him round his neck till he felt he would choke.

“Fuineth! It warms my heart that you are pleased, but..!”

She laughed, apologising and releasing her hold on him. “Oh, Túveren, but this is wonderful! When do I meet her? When? Please tell me it will be soon. Did she travel with you?”

He shook his head. “No. She is in Minas Tirith with her brother. He is a Knight of Gondor and one of the Captains of the Guards of the Citadel.”

“So, someone has finally captured your heart, brother?”

She was mocking him, but only in jest and he knew it. He returned her grin. “Yes, it is strange that I have finally succumbed.” His eyes clouded. “She is beautiful. Wonderous. Really, I cannot describe her and do her justice.” He glanced at his sister, looking sheepish after this rare display of emotion, “You will love her, Fuineth, I know you will. She cannot wait to meet you.”

Fuineth regarded her brother warmly. “Then tell me when am I to meet her?”

“As soon as I have finished here. Will you not accompany me? Some of the Dúnedain needs must visit King Elessar also, so there will be a small company of us travelling.”

“Visit Minas Tirith? After all the stories and descriptions you have filled my head with? Oh, Túveren!” She cried clasping him round the neck once more.

He laughed. “Well there is business I must do in Minas Tirith but I have messages from here for Lord Legolas that must be dealt with first. We will journey briefly to Ithilien and then to the city so you may meet her.”

She did not show any of the emotion she felt at hearing his name spoken. She had not seen him since that day she had rode out with the King to Edoras, though, of course, she had heard of him and his exploits from her brother and those among the Dúnedain and elves she now knew in the North. She had sometimes wondered if she would ever meet him again, and how their meeting might be. Awkward, no doubt. She felt she would feel too shy to speak, the memory of that dreadful night seared into her brain like a livid scar that would not fade.

She smiled. Well, even if she didn’t meet him there she would see his realm, and that pleased her though she knew not why exactly.

So some months later Túveren brought his sister to Ithilien where she was housed amongst the elves there. They stayed but a day since her brother needed to see the King on other matters. Her brother was too busy to take her to the halls of Lord Legolas or introduce her, but she did espy Lord Legolas from afar once, and all too briefly.

Soon they were heading back West to Minas Tirith, though her brother took his time to do so and delighted in showing her Ithilien and even round Osgiliath and this added several days onto their journey.

It was more than a week later when they entered the Pelennor Fields and she gazed in wonder at the city with the tall white tower at its height. Fuineth could not quite believe she was here. After all her brother had told her of the feats of heroism and the blood spilled: so much history and so much loss in this place.

They entered the Place of the Fountain, where the newly planted white tree stood, and grooms rushed forward to take their horses from them as they dismounted. One of the Citadel Guards came to greet them, “My lady,” he bowed towards Fuineth, “one of the ladies-in-waiting will show you to your chambers.”

Her brother was well known at the court and turned to her grinning. “I will go and see the King now and let him know of our arrival. I will come to your chambers as soon as I am done.” A young woman in a sumptuous dress came out to greet her with servants to collect her bags as her brother made his way past the guards and into the White Tower.

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After she had been shown her chambers, and had refreshed herself and changed, there was a light knock on her door. Her brother entered saying he had been gently reprimanded for not bringing her straight away to Minas Tirith and for going to Ithilien first.

She laughed, “And what excuse did you give them, for indeed they were right to scold you, Túveren. Did I not say to you even before we left Rivendell?”

“I did not wish to be overbold, dear sister, nor presume. Better I let them invite you than we just turn up unannounced at their door.”

“And you said this to them?”

“Well not in those words, exactly, but the Queen entirely understood and I could see King Elessar smiling at me from behind his hand, so I think we are safe enough.” He grinned. “If you are ready, the King would like you to come down.” Her eyes widened slightly but she nodded. “Fuineth, do not feel modest. He is the same Aragorn you were giving orders to amongst the injured of Helm’s Deep.”

“Well yes, brother, but he wasn’t our king then and things are necessarily different now. Besides you have got to know him over these last few years, whereas I have not seen him since I left you both at Helm’s Deep...”

Her voice trailed off, her face suddenly sad at the memory. “Oh, Fuineth. I came back, did I not?” His voice was warm, soft, “And there were many who didn’t, Fuineth, many. King Theoden himself for one.”

She nodded, and felt a tear trickle down her face.

“There now, don’t cry. You can’t come before the King of Gondor and Arnor with red eyes.” She laughed. “That’s better.”

He was bent down in front of her looking up at her face, which was framed by her dark tresses. She smiled, touched his face and then stood to follow him to the throne room.

As they neared the chamber she could hear voices inside, even laughter. That put her at her ease somewhat. Then Túveren, placing his hand on her arm indicated for her to wait. “I will see if it is convenient and then come and get you,” and she nodded. There were some seats in the corridor just outside the door and she perched nervously on one to wait.

Just after her brother closed the door behind him it opened once more and a tall figure came out, still laughing to himself. He was dressed in fine silks and brocade of silver and blue. As he closed the door, he turned to leave but saw Fuineth sitting there beside the door. He froze.

“My lady Fuineth?”

A gentle voice broke her from her reverie and she looked up into a pair of pale green-grey eyes. He was holding out his hand for hers, and not able to speak at first she proffered her hand. As he kissed it gently and bowed his head ever so slightly, she collected herself enough to be able to murmur, “Mae govannen, hîr nín.”

He smiled. “Gíl síla erin lû e-govaded vín, hiril nín.”

She had feared and hoped for this moment, and now it was upon her it was utterly unlike what she had expected. There was no awkwardness, no memory of what had passed between them all those years ago. His eyes were warm and his gaze gentle. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her. She felt herself flushing slightly though she did not know why.

“It has been a while, my lady, since last we met, in darker days when we knew not what lay before us. Now, the Valar be praised, we can rest and be happy once more.”

She smiled, “Indeed.”

There was a brief silence, though not an awkward one.

“You are staying here in Minas Tirith?” he asked.

“Yes my brother is here on business of the Dúnedain, and a personal matter also...” She did not know if he knew of her brother’s bethrothal, but felt it was not her place to tell him if he did not. “We have just come from Ithilien,” she ventured to say.

He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, so I heard. And your brother did not tell me he would be bringing you with him nor did you call upon me. That was remiss.”

She looked into his eyes, suddenly concerned she had offended him, but saw them glitter and realised he was laughing softly. “Well, my lord, I hardly know you well enough. It would have been presumptuous. Please forgive me.”

He laughed once more, “Have no fear, my lady. It is your brother I should reprimand: he should have told me.”

She blushed, but felt bold enough to return, “Besides we were there but a day all told, though I saw you, my lord, as I was shown around your realm, even if you did not see me.”

Now it was his turn to look at her with surprise in his eyes, though smiling still. “Indeed?” was all he said.

The moment was broken by her brother’s face appearing at the door, “Fuineth?” Then he saw Legolas. “Mae govannen, my lord.”

Legolas greeted him warmly and Fuineth was intrigued to see them so familiar with each other.

“Forgive me, my lord, but the King and Queen wish to see my sister.”

Legolas nodded, “But of course, Túveren. I will not delay you both. Though,” he paused, his eyes still shining with silent laughter, “You should have told me you had brought the Lady Fuineth with you to Ithilien.”

Túveren flushed, “My apologies, my lord. I was on an urgent matter of business nor intended to stay long, I did not think..”

Legolas held up his hand, “I jest with you, Túveren. I quite understand your reasoning, besides it may not have been fitting for you to have been received as the guests of Ithilien before being the guests of King Elessar.”

He turned to her now, the eyes still sparkling and shining with amusement and warmth. “It is good to see you once more, my lady. I trust we shall meet again soon. Navaer, hiril nín,” he said as he bowed.

She smiled and thanked him and followed her brother into the throne room.

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She did not see Legolas again for some days, and the next time they met would be in very different circumstances.

He had left to meet with the Lord Faramir in Osgiliath, since he had a meeting there with various nobles of Ithilien anyway. The King and Queen were also to join Lord Faramir and his wife there.

Fuineth tried to politely decline the invitation for her to travel with them, even at the risk of upsetting the King and Queen. She had no desire to come anywhere near the Lady Eowyn. Her anger still burned bright within her.

Something in her tone when she had excused herself, saying she had no wish to impose, nor did she feel it would be right, as the former lady-in-waiting to the Lady of Rohan, to now accompany the King and Queen as her guest, made Arwen look at her more closely but for no more than a second. But it was of no use. She could not refuse their gracious offer. Her brother needed to stay in Minas Tirith and then return to Ithilien once more before he could meet her in Osgiliath so she would travel there without him. Fuineth’s distress was extreme, but she forced herself to not let it show.

Thankfully there were many other guests in Osgiliath. The landowners of the surrounding provinces as well as various lords of Ithilien were there also, so banquets were filled with numerous peoples and she was able to avoid the Lady Eowyn easily enough. She watched her, though. Sitting demurely, cold, impassive, sometimes laughing at some whispered nothing her husband told her in her ear.

Only once did they meet face to face and that was on her arrival. Fuineth had little option but to follow the Queen as she was greeted formally by the Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn. She curtsied before a “my lady” was the murmured greeting on her lips, but when she looked up she could see the hatred and venom clear in Eowyn’s glance. She had to stop herself from gasping out loud.

The Queen and Lord Faramir were in conversation and had not noticed, and no sooner had the expression flashed across Lady Eowyn’s eyes than it was gone. Her voice remained cool and distant as she inclined her head, “Lady Fuineth. You are welcome.” Though the tone in her voice was far from warm or cordial.

Once or twice Legolas had joined the banquets, though he too seemed to relish it more when there was company to lose himself in. She noted that, while he seemed to be on good terms with Lord Faramir, he barely spoke to the Lady Eowyn unless it would have been churlish of him not to, indeed, like Fuineth, he did everything he could to avoid Eowyn.

The first time she had seen him, he had not seen her. His back was to her and he was in deep discussion with Aragorn as well as one of the Dúnadain and two Ithilien elvish nobles. She had waited, not wishing to intrude, but as he had turned to find a refill for his cup, she had stepped forward, shyly, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

“My lord Legolas, it is a pleasure to see you once again.”

He stopped, clearly surprised to see her there. “The pleasure is mine, dear lady. I had not expected to see you here nor to see you again so soon. I am glad,” and he bowed.

“You are too kind, my lord. I fear I did not have time when last we met to thank you.”

He seemed a little confused by this and merely repeated, “Thank me, my lady?”

There was a pause. She lowered her eyes as she said, softly, “My brother told me what happened in the Pelennor Fields. His sword was broken, an Uruk about to strike him, when an arrow pierced its neck?” She looked up at him now, kindly and thankful. He smiled in return as she continued, “I thank you for keeping the promise you made to me at Helm’s Deep. You saved his life. Indeed you have now saved his life twice. I am doubly in your debt, my lord.”

“I would do no less again where it asked of me, my lady. Let me assure you of that. I love your brother dearly and consider him a true friend. He proved his worth at Helm’s Deep, and indeed at the Fords of Isen also so I hear, even before I saw his feats with the Grey Company. You should be proud of him.”

“I am,” she said softly.

“And rightly so, my lady. Not only is he my friend..” he paused, and she looked up to finding him looking at her intently with a deep kindness in his green eyes, “...he is also the brother of my friend.”

She smiled, unable to find an adequate response to this touching gesture, and felt her eyes wet suddenly.

“My lord..” she began, and he could see she was both pleased and moved, but they were interrupted. The Lord Faramir needed him urgently on some matter. He excused himself, saying he would try to return to finish their conversation, but in the event he was unable to.

She watched him, this elegant, noble elf as he dealt with first one set of questioners, then another. Once she caught him looking at her, and when he knew he had caught her eye, he rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion towards the nobles he was having to discuss matters of state with. She stifled a giggle and looked away.

That had been the first real moment of friendship between them. He clearly didn’t enjoy being at these things, in the presence of that woman anymore than she did, but in that brief moment they had forgot her, forgotten how it was they even knew each other, and simply enjoyed each others’ company.

‘The brother of my friend.’ She mulled it over in her mind. She felt honoured and a little humbled by such a statement. She did not feel she had done anything, truly, to merit it. She felt she had possibly embarrassed him more than helped him that fateful night, but no matter. It was a kind thing for him to say. Kind, and charming.

She smiled. Oh, he was certainly charming.

Legolas for his part had been amazed and delighted to see her once again both in Minas Tirith and then in Osgiliath. He too had wondered how things had fared for her since last they had seen each other, and he had been relieved to some extent when he had learnt after the Battle of Pelennor that the Lady Eowyn was not at Edoras nor had stayed there long once the spearmuster of Rohan had assembled. He had formed a fond attachment for Túveren, not simply for her sake though that had played its part, but he was also a warrior of both courage and skill and a good and noble man. Legolas had been pleased and proud to fight alongside him.

‘Túveren should have told me’, he thought, as he watched her from the other side of the room, oblivious to his gaze. She looked well, though it was clear that she, like he, felt somewhat constrained by being here as the guest of Lady Eowyn. He could guess she had been invited by the King and Queen, in all innocence, to come with them while her brother went about his business. He hoped he might have an opportunity to speak to her more privately while she was here now that there was some distance between those events and the present. He would like to get to know her a little better and perhaps earn the compassion and friendship she had shown him that night.


--------------------------------------------------------------

Fuineth had been at Osgiliath for a week when it happened.

She herself did not witness the incident (none but Faramir, and then Aragorn and Arwen did at the time) but she heard of it later: the argument, the vicious taunts that had escalated between them till the Lord of Ithilien and the Lady of Osgiliath and Rohan had actually drawn swords - he to defend himself and she in her rage and humiliation determined to hurt him in some way. But her skill was not what it was, and Legolas had humilated her further, cut her several times, and it was only when she was forcibly held back that it stopped. Suddenly, it was understood: Faramir realised the nature of their past, though did not fully understand, and then Aragorn guessed the rest.

Later, in the guest chambers of the King and Queen, the entire story was told in full: Legolas now silently weeping, now hugging himself in pain, at the memory as he sat on the floor, knees hunched, head bowed.

The basic facts had come out then and there in the corridor earlier, but his friend was now gently asking, wanting to get the details absolutely clear in his head. Arwen was beside herself in distress and fury and could not speak at all.

“There is one thing I do not understand,” continued Aragorn, “How did it stop? Did the effects abate? Did she relent? Were you able to overcome her at last?”

There was silence from the figure hunched on the floor.

Aragorn said quietly, “You should know the Lady Eowyn has implicated another, Legolas. She says that someone else did this to you.”

Legolas’s head shot up, his eyes blazing fierce with rage. “No!” he roared. “She lies! And I will not have her defamed so..!” He stopped, turning his head away from them, and bringing one fist up to his brow, determined he was not going to break down into tears once more.

Arwen broke the silence, “Who, Legolas? Who do you not wish to see defamed?”

Legolas gave a groan, and his head fell forward onto his knees. “Please,” he moaned, “You do not need to know. It is not important.”

Aragorn spoke now. “We must, if we are to counter the Lady Eowyn’s claims, at least in the Lord Faramir’s eyes. He, as our good friend, deserves the truth, does he not? At least since this much is now known. It has gone too far, Legolas, it must be told.”

Legolas nodded, not lifting his head from his knees. He understood. He sighed deeply, took a breath and then raised his head without looking at either of them and said in a flat, quiet voice, “Someone came. They had realised what was happening and came... to stop her. That was all. They gave me bandages and water for my wounds.. they stayed with me so that no-one could disturb me again that night. And at dawn they left.” He was weeping quietly now. “They showed me great tenderness and affection, and I can never repay them. I would not have her defamed. She showed me much compassion... though it shamed me to have her there.” Once again his head fell onto his knees, as his silent tears fell.

There was another silence. At last Aragorn spoke. “It was Fuineth, Túveren’s sister. That is why she was leaving Edoras the day we rode to Helm’s Deep, was it not?”

Legolas nodded once more. “Yes.”

He still did not raise his head.

Arwen looked at her husband, her eyes filled with tears. Aragorn, understanding her look, stood up and went to the door and left the room. Arwen started to speak, but a hand motioned her silent from beneath the golden hair about Legolas’s knees.

Within minutes Aragorn had returned and nodded to his wife.

-------------------------------------------------------------------


There was a knock at her door.

“My lady?”

It was an unfamiliar voice.

“Yes?”

“The King and Queen wish to discuss something with you as a matter of urgency, could you come with me to their chambers?”

Fuineth came to the door, and upon opening it found one of Faramir’s guards standing in front of it with a vaguely apologetic look on his face.

“I am sorry to disturb you, my lady. But I was sent as a matter of urgency...”

She nodded and, closing her door behind her, followed the guard through the corridors to the other wing where she was motioned towards a door. The guard would not come nearer to it, though.

She hesitated for a moment, looking towards the guard once more as if for confirmation, and at his nod, she knocked. There was a “Come in,” and she turned the handle and entered the room.



Mae govannen = well met

Hîr nín = my lord

Gíl síla erin lû e-govaded vín = a star shines upon our meeting

Hiril nín = my lady

Navaer = farewell


Chapter 6 - The Why and How

Chapter 5 ~ The Why and How


As she closed the door behind her and turned to face the room she took an intake of breath. The King and Queen were seated on a low couch almost directly facing her and to one side. On the floor she could see Legolas, still hunched over into a ball. At the sound of her coming in, though, he stood up quickly not wanting her to see him in his state and, keeping his back to her, he moved over to the window behind the King and Queen. There he stood.

She could just make out part of his face, standing still as stone, staring with unseeing eyes onto the City of Osgiliath. She could see his cheeks shone wet, and that his grip upon the window ledge was tight enough to make his white skin even whiter.

Fuineth felt a cold hand grip her heart.

Her face looked stricken, and it was clear that she had realised what was happening and why she had been summoned. Arwen stood and got her a chair positioning it in front of the King.

“Please, Fuineth. Sit.”

Arwen’s tone was gentle and kindly, but Fuineth could feel herself shaking as she sat. She glanced up again at the tense figure behind Aragorn and Arwen. He did not flinch. He was waiting, and she knew she must relate things he had no wish to hear again. She felt desperate, not willing to say anything, and yet knowing she was helpless, that she could not prevent him from hearing what she would no doubt be forced to say, making him relive the whole episode once more. She felt her eyes fill. She looked to the floor, clasping her hands tightly in her lap nearly as tightly as Legolas was holding on to the window frame.

Aragorn and Arwen exchanged a glance.

Aragorn began. “Do not be afraid, Lady Fuineth. Nothing you say here will go outside these walls.”

She looked upwards towards the figure framed in the window. Nothing.

“You have no doubt guessed why you have been summoned here?”

There was a silence and then she realised they were waiting for a reply, so she nodded and murmured, barely audibly, “I.. I think so, yes.”

“You needs must know that Lord Legolas has told us what happened the night before we left Edoras for Helm’s Deep. We only need to confirm from you your version of events. Is that understood?”

A silent nod this time, and she could not bring herself to look up at the elf burning with rage and shame at the window.

There was a pause as Aragorn carefully tried to decide where best to begin. “How did you come to know that Lord Legolas had been...” he searched for the word, “poisoned?”

She took a deep breath. Looked up. Still Legolas was impassive. She glanced first to Aragorn, then to Arwen who nodded and smiled kindly, though her mouth was in a thin firm line of anger. “I was in the kitchens when the cake was sent down.” Aragorn nodded. “Someone said it had been sent back because there were oak leaves in it and...” She stopped. “..Well, it caused much confusion. I did indeed taste some and it tasted strange to me, certainly not what had been intended for our guests. I thought nothing of it till late that night I mentioned it to my brother...”

She was interrupted as there a low groan from the window, and Legolas let his head drop though he remained standing at the window, hands clasped firmly to the frame. She looked up, worried and uncertain whether to continue.

“Does your brother know what occurred that night, then?” Aragorn asked, guessing what had crossed Legolas’s mind.

She looked genuinely shocked, “No, your highness! He does not!” She looked appalled from one to the other, and Arwen held out her hand in a gesture of reassurance. Legolas’s shoulders relaxed somewhat on hearing this. “He knows no more than you yourself did, your highness.”

“So he knew of oak leaves and their... ‘effect’ when mixed with honey?” Aragorn asked as gently and tactfully as he could.

She coloured, vividly, and her gaze fell to the floor once more.

“And he realised it had to have been deliberate, and could only have been aimed at one person?”

She nodded, still looking at her feet. She could feel the tears welling up now.

“So why then did you go to Lord Legolas’s chambers? What made you suspect that something had happened?” Arwen was speaking now, trying to move her on from her acute embarrassment.

This was the part of her story Legolas did not know and had always wanted to. He tensed, straining every muscle to hear what she would say.

Her voice was low, uncertain, “The day before I had entered my lady’s chambers to help her with her morning toilet. She had been on the floor, pushing something in a hole in the wall. It looked like a book and some kind of small pot or phial, and she was placing a brick back in the wall to conceal it.”

She stopped, looking up. Aragorn was looking grim, and Arwen shocked. “Go on,” the King said tersely.

“I.. I didn’t really consider the import of what my brother had told me. It was only later... in my chambers.. I remembered what I had seen as well as something the Lady Eowyn had said to me..” Again she stopped, looking up at Aragorn with her eyes now brimming with tears. “I.. she...”

Aragorn nodded, “I know that she had an affection for me and was distressed that I could not return it, if that is what you are struggling to say, my child.”

She nodded mutely, grateful that she had not had to say such a thing to the King and with his wife sat beside him.

“She had said something to me about not wishing to live and that to die husbandless was a dreadful thing...” She looked to Arwen and her voice sank to a mere whisper, “I did not understand what she meant.. not then.” Her throat was tightening now to the point that it pained her. “I do not know what made me do so, but I went to her chambers.. and.. and..”

She was fighting to hold back the tears as Aragorn quietly finished her sentence for her, “And you found them empty.”

She nodded, unable to speak, knowing she would simply break into sobs if she tried to do so.

“Did you check the hiding place?” he asked, half-guessing what the answer would be.

She nodded once more, feeling shame that a servant should do such a thing, and that they would judge her for it. Arwen, however, sensing this, murmured, “You did the right thing, Fuineth.”

She looked at her gratefully. A tear rolled down her cheek. She noticed for the first time that the Lady Arwen had been crying also. “There was a book. On elves. On.. on..”

She could not finish. There was a shocked silence.

The Queen then asked, almost so quietly Fuineth was not sure she had heard her, “How big was the phial?”

Fuineth’s gaze flicked up. She did not want to answer this question. She looked from Aragorn to Arwen and back again. They could see the distress in her face.

“Please?” asked Arwen once again.

“A .. a quart.”

There was a gasp from Arwen, and she could see the figure in the window flinch.

“And it was empty, this bottle?” Aragorn asked, his voice thick with emotion. She nodded, and broke into tears.

There was a brief pause while they waited for her to compose herself.

“I take it your brother had explained only a small amount was needed?” Aragorn then asked.

She nodded. Then quietly, her voice shaking with distress now, she looked straight at the figure in the window and answered almost directly to him, “That’s why I did what I did.”

“So what, then, did you do?” Again the same quiet, insistent but gentle tone from the King.

“I.. I went to get the spare keys from the guard room, and I took a long knife as well... since the Lady Eowyn is skilled in fighting.”

There was a snort of utter contempt from the window as she said this.

“I.. I..,” her head bowed forward. She had no idea how to explain this. She could not tell them. He would not want her to tell them what she had seen: wild-eyed, half crazed, tears streaming down his face. She squeezed her hands even tighter and screwed her eyes shut to try and stop the tears from falling.

“You disturbed them, yes?”

She could not look up. A nod.

“And then what?”

“There... there was knife on the floor. The Lady Eowyn grasped it and ran at me..” Her voice was shaking now. Arwen had her hands to her face. “I managed to move aside but barely... she came at me again, but this time... Lord... Lord Legolas managed to catch hold of her and knock it from her hand...”

Again she trailed off. She did not want to relate the words that were said, the vicious hatred burning in his eyes, his insults and the invective he had heaped upon the Lady Eowyn’s head.

“He threw her out,” she said simply.

Aragorn and Arwen exchanged a wordless glance. “Did nothing happen before then?”

She looked up, puzzled. What was it they were asking?

“Did Lord Legolas do anything to the Lady Eowyn?” Aragorn insisted.

Then she understood. She looked towards the figure at the window once more and could see that his face was turned away from her completely now. ‘I am sorry,’ she thought, and it only succeeded in making the tears fall even faster than before.

“What happened?” Quiet, but insistent once more.

Silence. A beat.

“He.. touched her skirts. He healed her.” She could not look at Aragorn, but pleaded with Arwen with her eyes for her to understand what she was saying. The queen nodded, and she let her gaze fall once more.

The tone was gentler now, “What did you do then?”

She seemed uncertain of how to continue at first. Then, “The Lord was very ill.” Aragorn nodded. “I.. I stripped the bed..” Catching something in Aragorn’s eye she explained, “It was covered in blood.” There was a gasp from the queen.

Fuineth looked up once more, looking straight ahead and spoke directly to Legolas, or so it seemed to Aragorn and Arwen. “I could see that he was injured. He had a deep cut on his shoulder, others on his neck and..” She stopped, never taking her eyes off the back of the figure at the window.

She had seen the shoulders slump forward slightly as she had stopped. He knew what was coming. She felt his shame, and it hurt her so much to have to say all this. She looked pleadingly to Arwen but the Queen simply nodded sadly and said, “Go on.”

“His ears,” she said in a voice barely audible. She saw the shoulders slump further forward. She did not even notice the tear run down Arwen’s cheek. Her own were flowing freely now in pity and distress and pain at seeing him have to go through this.

“Go on.”

“I asked if he would permit me to fetch him some water and cloth for his wounds.”

“Which he did?”

She nodded. “I took the keys and knife, and I took the bed linen and told him to bolt the door behind me. I fetched clean linen, water, as well as some athelas and some balm I had in my chambers.” Aragorn nodded. “I.. I didn’t know if the Lord would let me back in to his chambers..” She was looking at his back once more, “And I would not have blamed him if he had not. Indeed I was about to leave the water there for him on the floor when he opened the door.” Her voice was less shaky now. The tenderness and compassion in her timbre was evident for them all to hear. Her gaze never left his shoulders as she spoke.

“So you prepared his bed, and put the athelas in the water?”

She nodded. “I..” her voice quiet again, not flinching in her gaze toward the window. “I offered to bathe his wounds, though I knew he would refuse. I laid the bowl of water, the cloths and the balm upon his bed and withdrew to the fire.”

“Do you realise the danger you were in, my child?” Aragorn’s tone was not reprimanding, more curious.

She looked at him, genuinely confused. “I knew that if ... If he would have told me to go I would have gone. Instantly. I did my best to keep a distance, to not even look at him directly. I had no wish to ... make him more self-conscious than he no doubt already was.”

Her gaze had returned to his back, the shoulders slumped even more, forehead against the pane of glass now. She could see a splash on the window frame of a tear as it fell.

“I am truly sorry if I did anything wrong. I would not for all the world, have made my Lord feel ill at ease or in any discomfort at my presence.” Her voice was shaking with her tears as she addressed these words to him. There was a muffled sob from the window, and even Aragorn and Arwen fell silent. Arwen had tears rolling down her cheeks, as did Fuineth.

For a moment all was still.

Eventually Aragorn spoke, “You did nothing wrong, Fuineth. Indeed from what you have told us so far, you showed great kindness and compassion to someone in dire circumstances, and I know that the Lord Legolas would bid me say that he is ever in your debt.”

She shook her head, “No, my liege. I did no more than it was my duty to do.” But her voice choked into a sob and she stopped once more.

“Why did you stay the night in his chambers?” asked Aragorn, and she was shocked that he asked so directly.

She recovered herself and answered, “I offered to stay only so that he was not alone if she.. if something occurred once more.” She paused; again a look towards Legolas. She could see his shoulders shaking slightly now and it broke her heart to see it. “I imagined he would not let me, but I would have sat outside his door even if he had not let me stay within.”

Even Aragorn was surprised and could not help but raise an eyebrow. She turned to him, “What was done was abominable, my liege.” Her anger getting the better of her now, her voice, cold and quiet, shaking with emotion, “To see one of the Eldar so treated...”

She could not finish, but her glare and the fire in her eyes told Aragorn all he needed to know.

“At first cock crow I left. I knew there would be no more trouble after such an hour.”

She was feeling calmer now, the worst seemed to be over. Even the figure at the window seemed to be standing taller and straighter once more.

“What of the next day?”

She gasped.

“No doubt the Lady Eowyn was wrathful that one of her maidservants had discovered her?”

She nodded, shocked into silence.

“She dismissed you? And that’s why you left, or tried to?”

Again a nod. She looked up and as she did so she caught the Queen’s eye, but dropped her gaze almost as soon as she had done so.

“More than that,” Arwen whispered and Aragorn looked at his wife questioningly. Legolas half turned towards them all on hearing Arwen’s comment. “There was more, wasn’t there, Fuineth?”

Fuineth was suddenly blinded by tears now, not wishing to answer, unable to find a way out, feeling her shame burning on her cheeks. Aragorn was watching her now, his face dark with all that he was having to hear.

In a quiet voice, Arwen asked her, “Did she strike you, Fuineth?”

‘O Elbereth, please!’ She looked at the beautiful Arwen Undomiel and felt her heart shattering into a thousand pieces then and there. She could not answer, but her clear distress, the tears on her face, were all the answer they needed. The figure at the window had turned to face her now, though she could not see it, shock etched all over his face.

Arwen then asked, even more quietly than before, “Did she threaten you, Fuineth?”

She could not keep it back any longer. She broke into sobs, trying desperately to hold in the anger, shame and hurt she felt, but it was no use. Arwen stood up and went over to her, placing her arms around her and holding her, stroking her dark hair as her slim frame shook.

The figure at the window was pale now: fingers once more tightly gripped the sill behind him, mouth a thin line of anger, eyes blazing. He could barely contain himself.

Quietly, Arwen asked her what had been said, and the whole tale came out, though whispered in half-sobs into Arwen’s ear. When all was told Arwen turned, ashen, and came to sit once more exchanging a brief glance with Legolas as she did so and what he saw in her eyes made the bile rise in his throat.

Arwen’s voice was cold and still when she spoke at last, “She was told if she did not leave Edoras immediately, war or no war, it would be made known to the King before he left Edoras that she was a common whore and that it was she who had deliberately poisoned Lord Legolas to satisfy her own base desires, and that the proof would be her unslept in chambers. And she was struck. More than once.”

A silence fell on the room broken only by Fuineth’s sobs as she tried desperately to control herself.

Legolas was beside himself in fury. “And she is trying to say the same thing now..?” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, but Fuineth heard it and her head shot up in panic.

“What?!”

Aragorn sought to reassure her and shot Legolas a look which made him flush at his tactlessness. “It is alright, lady Fuineth. No-one knows save us four and the Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn.”

She stared at him, mouth open. “Lord.. Lord Faramir knows?” He nodded.

Her hand went to her mouth. She could feel the tears prick her eyes once more. “Poor Lord Faramir..” she murmured, though not to them, even though they all heard it.

After a little while Aragorn stirred, “One last question, my lady, if you will permit me.”

She looked at him, pale and trembling slightly, and feeling utterly wretched.

“Why did you not call someone? Get your brother, perhaps, or even I or another of Lord Legolas’s companions?”

She gazed at her hands for a moment and then quietly, but in a confident voice, said, “I felt sure that Lord Legolas would not want anyone to know. Indeed he could have sent me to wake someone had that not been the case.” Pause. “I have no doubt that it was difficult enough for him that I knew.”

She paused again, and lifted her head once more towards the figure at the window, and she met the gaze she found there, and she held it. A single tear spilled over from her eye, and she could see his were glistening also.

“I made a promise and I have kept that promise. And this is the first I have ever spoken of that night.”

He broke his gaze away, not wanting her to see his tears as they fell.

She let her own gaze drop. It was done. There was nothing more to be said and it was out of her hands now.

Arwen smiled gently and came forward to take her hand. “Thankyou, Fuineth. I know that was hard for you,” but Fuineth looked towards the figure, his head bowed forward, and thought how much harder it must have been for him. “You may go. You will never have to speak of it again. You have my word.”

She smiled gratefully at the gracious Queen, curtseyed to the royal couple and turned to leave. Then she hesitated at the door and turned to the blond figure at the back of the room who was watching her now with a quiet sadness in his eyes.

“I am truly sorry, my Lord, that you have had to relive your ordeal this day,” she said quietly. He smiled, only faintly, and nodded his head as she turned to leave while she felt her tears fall once more.

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There was silence in the room after she had left.

Legolas was still staring at the closed door through which she had just walked. He could feel the tears brimming in his eyes, touched as he had been by her last words to him.

He had so many emotions inside him right now, not least of which was his rage and fury, not simply at the appalling behaviour of the Lady Eowyn towards Fuineth this day, but also the knowledge of what had actually occurred between them in her chambers that morning in Edoras. It chilled him.

He had been deeply moved by the way Fuineth had spoken. The evident concern and compassion she had shown for him had reduced him to tears in a way that even speaking of the events of that night to Aragorn and Arwen earlier had not. He had wanted to speak to her, but not like this. His heart ached that she had had to go through this, and he prayed to the Valar that he would be able to redress the wrongs done to them both.


Chapter 7 - Aftermath

Chapter 6 ~ Aftermath


She did the best she could to wipe her eyes and walk unhurriedly past the guards in the corridor, though they no doubt heard her sobs catching in her throat as she left the room.

As soon as she rounded a corner she ran. Ran all the way to her chambers and threw herself on her bed sobbing.

After a little while she could feel it passing. She lay there quietly, staring at the wall, as the tears dried on her face. All she could see in her mind’s eye was the image of that tall, proud back turned away from her, the hands clenched on the sill with a vice-like grip, the head bowed with the forehead against the glass and tears splashing down onto the window frame.

Just then there was a faint knock on her door.

She came back to reality. She had no idea how long she had lain there, staring into nothingness. She sat up, worrying now as to who it might be, and smoothed her hair and wiped her eyes as best she could, well aware she was in no fit state to receive visitors.

Again a knock, and this time a gentle voice calling her name.

Queen Undomiel.

She hastened to the door. “Forgive my tardiness in answering, your highness.”

Arwen pushed the door shut and smiled. “There is no need to be so formal with me, Fuineth. Your father was a friend of my husband’s as is your brother after him, and you have stayed often in my father’s house. Please. Consider me your friend.”

Fuineth nodded, too touched by her graciousness to respond with more than a murmured, “Le hannon, your highness.”

“Come, let us sit.” Arwen indicated a low bench in front of a window that looked over the gardens. They sat side by side, Fuineth with her head bowed and the Queen regarding her with a gentle smile on her face. “I came to see that you were alright. I was concerned at your distress, my dear, though it was entirely understandable.”

Fuineth smiled gratefully. “You have my thanks for your kindness. I assure you I am well.” She paused. “I am more concerned for Lord Legolas.” Her voice caught in her throat slightly but she continued quietly, “It must have been far worse an ordeal for him, I am certain.”

Arwen nodded, “Your consideration and compassion for his sake are moving indeed, my dear. You need not worry: he is more angry than hurt. For your sake as much as his own especially now he knows the full story, though I think he had already guessed in large part what may have occurred between you and Lady Eowyn. I must be honest with you and tell you what I have learnt today has distressed and angered me much also.” She paused regarding Fuineth for a few moments. “You know, Fuineth, it takes much for a mortal to earn his respect and affection.”

Fuineth looked at her, the surprise evident in her eyes.

“Surely you knew that he thinks highly of you?”

“I.. well.. he called me his friend, which I was deeply touched by, but in truth we have spoken little and know each other less in many respects.”

She stopped, but Arwen did not respond suspecting there was more to come. Fuineth continued quietly, “He has shown me great kindness, not least of all in his promise to me to protect my brother during the War. He has always been courteous and warm in his treatment of me, and I hope I have been able to return that in a manner befitting his station.”

A beat.

“I do consider him a friend, though I hope it is not presumptuous of me to do so.”

“Not at all,” Arwen responded kindly, “You have earned his trust and loyalty in your treatment of him. You have also earned mine and the King’s by your actions. It is rare indeed to find one, other than a fellow elf, who would have had such compassion and understanding, unlooked for and unbidden, in such a situation. It is difficult, for those who do not know us, to understand us at times.” Fuineth nodded but remained silent.

Arwen smiled and, in an attempt to break the mood, then asked, her eyes twinkling mischieviously, “Tell me, how did your brother know such things?”

Fuineth caught her look and smiled conspiratorially. “I think you may have already guessed, your highness.”

Arwen laughed. “Yes, I think I may. He is betrothed now is he not? To the sister of one of the Captains?”

“Yes,” said Fuineth simply.

“I am surprised he did not fall in love before now,” mused the Queen, thinking no doubt on how he might have learnt such things.

Fuineth laughed, “He has ever been one to wander free. It is the Ranger in his blood I suspect. Never happier than when he is on a horse and on the road. I wonder how he will take to married life, I fear it may not suit him.”

Arwen smiled then. “You forget, perhaps, that I am married to a Ranger, and he has suited to married life very well.”

Fuineth could see the laughter in her eyes, “Yes, my Queen, but he is a King with responsibilities, not a young man with too much time on his hands and far more energy than he knows what to do with.”

Arwen laughed out loud. “She must be something indeed, this woman, to have tamed such a one.”

“She is, indeed. I met her the day we arrived in Minas Tirith. She reminded me of my mother in many respects: a woman who knows her mind, a strong character like many Gondorians, but gentle and good-natured with it. I imagine that is something of what attracts her to him. I love her dearly already, I must confess. Truly I am happy for them both.”

Arwen smiled, “I am glad. And I know the King will be glad to have your brother more often here with us in Gondor. And what of you, Fuineth? Do you have no suitors? I shall be amazed if you tell me ‘no’, such a one as pretty as you.”

Fuineth flushed now. “There were one or two in Rohan, but I never felt truly at peace there, and was loath to let their advances come to aught. I always wanted to go north, and I have only been there a little while, and mostly amongst your brethren.”

Arwen smiled. “You are still young, my dear. It will happen when it is right for it to do so, have no fear.”

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Arwen then let her know what had been decided. It was clear that the visit could not continue as planned. Lord Faramir himself was too upset to think of having guests, and the Lady Eowyn would not leave her chambers. Lord Legolas still had some business to conclude in Osgiliath but would leave that evening for Ithilien. It would cause undue comment if the King and Queen were to leave earlier than planned.

“But I quite understand if you wish to return to Minas Tirith straight away,” Arwen had said to Fuineth.

“Tùveren alone would think it odd that I travel without him or else you and the King for company,” had been her reply.

Arwen nodded, “Of course. Well we shall wait for his return in a few days time then. It may be that we shall all return together, but if not we can easily find some excuse for you to leave with your brother for Minas Tirith straight away.”

Fuineth thanked her.

So it was that later, once the Queen had left her in her chambers and had had some food sent up to it for her, Fuineth decided she needed some air. It was cold and fresh, it being barely mid-winter, but there was no snow this year in Gondor. She thought of home, now in the North, where it snowed every year, indeed even in Rohan it seemed to snow more often than here. She had wrapped a shawl around herself, sent her dishes to the kitchens with the food barely touched, and stepped outside of the house of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and into the gardens behind it.

The house was stood on a promontory above the river and the garden sloped gently down towards the Anduin with avenues of trees. She was amazed at how quickly things had re-established themselves. The skill of the elves of Ithilien, she did not doubt. Her brother had told her of the near destruction of Osgiliath even before the War. Much of the city still lay in ruins, but the Lord Faramir and the King were working hard together to return it to something of its’ former glory. A golden age of Gondor was blooming once more, it would seem.

She smiled, hugged the shawl a little tighter round her shoulders, and headed off down the hill, not hurriedly, but enjoying the air and being free of the house and the oppressive atmosphere she now felt there.

As she neared the river she could see there was a group of trees and bushes near the bank and she moved towards them thinking to screen herself from the house and give herself some time to try and forget the day’s events if only for a little while.

And then she saw him: sitting with his back against the trunk of a tree, staring out across the slow, grey river to the Eastern bank and towards his realm.

She started, unsure of how to proceed. She certainly did not want to intrude, and so she turned to leave the way she had come but as she did so he spoke, though his eyes did not leave the river, “Do not leave on my account, my lady.”

She stopped, turning slowly back towards him. “I do not wish to intrude, my lord. Let me leave you to the fresh air and your thoughts.”

His head turned to her and he smiled gently, though a little sadly it seemed to her, “Please. I would be glad of your company.” Then he stood. “Would you walk with me a little while, Lady Fuineth?”

She inclined her head, “If my lord so wishes. Of course.”

He waited for her to join him and then began a slow walk along the riverbank and away from the house.

They were silent for some time. Then he spoke, quietly, not looking at her, “I am sorry you had to go through that earlier. I would not have had that happen for the world.”

She could not speak, and felt if she did she would break into sobs once more.

“Please know that you did nothing wrong.. that night..”

He was faltering as he spoke and, not stopping her step, she said barely above a whisper, “Please, my lord, you need not speak of it. I think I guess what you would say.” She saw him nod and they fell silent once more.

Then he stopped. She turned to see he was looking at her and with such compassion, anger and pain in his eyes that she could hardly bear to look at him, “I am sorry too that you had to suffer on my account at the hands of the Lady Eowyn. I suspected as much, but to hear it..”

She turned away. “It was not your fault, my lord, nor a situation of your own making. I had my choice, and my decision. I knew full well what would happen as a consequence of my actions.” She turned back to him, a fire in her eyes, “but I may tell you, my lord, I would do the same again today in an instant if I had cause.”

The calm surety of the manner in which she spoke belied the fury she still felt, though the tremor in her voice told him clearly enough. He was at a loss. All he could do was nod, once, acknowledging not simply her words but the sentiment that he clearly heard within them and the flash he saw in her eye. He had sensed it at times when she had spoken earlier, the words wrung out of her in sobs: that anger, that same fury that he himself felt also.

Her head was bowed once more and she was speaking in a faint voice, “What was done to you, my Lord, was beyond cruelty and even if I had not been dismissed I would not have stayed. Had it not been for the War or the distance I must needs travel I would not have let my brother persuade me to turn back.”

He knew she was crying once more, and he stepped towards her, and held one shoulder just at the top of her arm and, in a voice even more gentle than his touch, he murmured, “Please, my lady, don’t. Please. I am moved beyond words that you allowed yourself to be thrown from the place you had spent most of your life rather than speak of what had happened. You could have spoken and you could have attempted to defend yourself, but you did not. And I thank you for that. Truly I am in your debt.”

She shook her head, “No, indeed. It would not have been right for me to have spoken and made public what even I should never have known, my Lord, indeed what should never have happened. It would have simply added to your pain if I had done so. I could never think of doing such a thing and adding to your suffering. I only spoke today because I had no choice though it pained me much to have to do so in your presence.”

Then she looked at him, silent tears on her face. He desperately wanted to hold her in his arms, to ease her pain, but knew it was impossible. Such an action would not be proper, and could too easily have been misunderstood.

She saw something of the tenderness in his gaze, and turned, wiping her eyes. “Forgive me, my Lord.”

“There is nothing to forgive. You must know that I bear no ill-will or shame towards you, indeed it is the very opposite. What you did was amongst the kindest acts anyone has shown me.”

He took both her shoulders, again as gently as a breeze, and turned her to face him. “Know that you will always have my respect and friendship, Lady Fuineth.”

She smiled, hesitantly, and looked up into his eyes for a moment, “And you mine, Lord Legolas.”

They fell to walking once more, but lighter now, it seemed to her, less burdened and more at ease with each other.

“You are an extraordinary woman, my lady,” he was laughing gently now.

“How so, my lord?” she smiled.

He shook his head. “I am not sure I have ever met a woman like you. Elf-maidens, certainly, but never a woman like you.”

She looked at him sideways, an intrigued look on her face, but he would say nothing more.

After a little while he took his leave of her, saying he had some business that he needed to attend to. “Thank you for your company, my lady. It has gladdened my heart to have had the opportunity to talk with you a little.” He paused, “You know that I leave for Ithilien this evening?”

“Yes, my lord, the Queen told me.”

“Did she now?” and she wondered at the glint in his eye.

“She came to my chambers after . . . to see that I was well. It was very kind of her.”

“I am glad she did.” He stopped and looked at her. “I would have come myself, but I was not sure you would want to see me,” he said gently. The hurt in her eyes was evident. “Forgive me, my lady. What I meant is that, given what had just occurred, it may have been too . . . You might have felt . . .”

Her eyes had softened and she smiled. She knew what he was trying to say. “You need not have worried, my lord, I would have been too concerned about your possible discomfort to think of myself.”

He nodded, smiling, “You are too kind, my lady, but you also must not worry on my account.”

They had reached an understanding, then. They stood there for a moment, smiling at the common ground they had reached between them.

Then, apologising but he was already late, he turned and left. As he reached the top of the slope near the house, he turned again, smiled, and was gone.

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Later that evening, Fuineth was sat in the Hall with some of the other guests staying in Osgiliath when a figure appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in simple Silvan greens and browns for his journey.

Aragorn, seated at one end with the Queen, looked up. “Legolas! You are leaving?”

Legolas nodded, “I just came to say farewell.”

He noticed Fuineth sitting to one side and smiled while she nodded in return. He carried on to the end of the hall, took the Queen’s hand and they spoke in their own tongue for some moments. He would have made a lengthy farewell to Aragorn but he said he would accompany his friend to his horse and see him off alongside the Lord Faramir.

As the two came back down the hall Legolas touched the king’s arm and murmured something to him. Aragorn nodded and continued to the door, but Legolas stopped and came over to where Fuineth was sitting.

“My lady,” he said, bowing slightly.

She held out her hand for him and he took it, brushing her hand softly with his lips. “I needs must be off, Lady Fuineth,” he said as he straightened, but he did not drop her hand immediately and instead let it linger a little while in his fingers though he was not entirely conscious of his doing so.

She nodded, “Of course, my lord. You cannot stay, and nor would I save I must wait for my brother.”

“And then you will return to Minas Tirith?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And then?”

“I do not know, my lord. It may be that my brother will take me back to Arnor. As yet he still has business to attend to here in the South, so I may be here till Spring I believe.”

“Indeed?” He was pleased at this news and he smiled more broadly and she could see his eyes gleam a little. “Then you must come once more to Ithilien, if he will permit. And this time..” he looked at her, an eyebrow arched in mock seriousness, though the eyes danced, “.. you must do me the honour of staying at the halls rather than let me learn of your visit too late to offer you my hospitality.”

He was softly laughing now and she smiled with him, her eyes bright, “But of course, my lord. I would gladly accept such a generous offer.”

That settled it.

He bowed again, taking her hand once more to kiss it while he held her eyes and murmured, “Then I look forward to meeting you again soon. Navaer, hiril nín.”

She nodded, still smiling, and could feel herself flushing from the intensity of his gaze. Then he turned and was gone, following the King out to the courtyard.

As she sat there, still feeling her face flushed and smiling at the pleasure of seeing him once more, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see the face of Arwen. “Come with me,” was all she said.

She led the way through the corridors and up a flight of stairs to the first floor. There, halfway along a passage, was a window with a balustrade that overlooked the courtyard. Fuineth could see three horses there. Two elf lords whom she recognised as being Legolas’ stewards were already sat upon two of them, while the third awaited its rider. No doubt that was Arod, the gift to Lord Legolas from King Eomer of the Rohan. Just below her she could see Lord Legolas, King Elessar and Lord Faramir. Faramir and Legolas seemed a little stiff with each other, not quite able to look the other in the eye, but cordial enough. She prayed that all might be well between them one day. They were, or had been, close friends.

It was only as Legolas finally turned towards his horse and mounted swiftly, and Fuineth saw the Queen come out into the courtyard and join her husband, that she realised Arwen had not stayed with her. She watched as the elves turned their steeds with a mere word and walked them to the gate. The two stewards went through first, but then Legolas turned as he came to the gate lifting his hand to those in the courtyard.

Then, to her astonishment, as though he had known she would be there, he looked straight at the window where she was sat, smiled, and held up his hand to her also. Then he turned to follow the others out of the gate.

--------------------------------------------

le hannon = I thank thee
navaer = farewell
hiril nín =my lady

Note: I have no idea if Legolas kept Arod after the War of the Ring, but for the purposes of this story he did as he was gifted to him by Eomer.


Chapter 8 - Minas Tirith

Chapter 7 ~ Minas Tirith



Her brother arrived in the morning two days after Legolas had left, which was a day or two earlier than she had expected. He said he had been informed by a messenger of Lord Legolas that the King had immediate need of him to take some documents and messages to Minas Tirith. Fuineth was relieved and thankful at what was a clear invention on Legolas’s part to help her to leave Osgiliath all the quicker, though she did not doubt that the King had been party to it also.

On their way back to Minas Tirith the same day that he had arrived her brother turned to her and asked, “Did something happen while I was away?”

She tried to keep her composure. “No. Why do you ask?”

He shook his head. “I had the feeling that there was no urgent business for me here. King Elessar has given me a task he easily could have given to another – even one of Lord Faramir’s men. Were you not happy at Osgiliath, sister?”

She looked at him, “What makes you say that?”

“You do not seem yourself, or at least you did not when I met you this morning. Yet now we are leaving you seem brighter somehow. Did I stay too long away? I know it is difficult since you do not know people here. It may be the King and Queen sensed it too and that is why I was sent for: to take you to Minas Tirith.”

She nodded, “Perhaps.”

“But no matter,” he continued. “I am happy to be going back to the city for a little while and to see Elsbeth. And the King and Queen will be joining us soon I believe.” He looked at his sister riding by his side, “You have made quite an impression on the Queen, so King Elessar tells me.”

“Really?” she seemed surprised, though pleased. “It is true we have talked much, and she indeed asked me to be less formal in my speech with her, which touched me greatly. In truth she has shown me nothing by kindness, and I feel I love her dearly even in the short time I have known her.”

“She is loved by all who meet her, and the King also. They have insisted that we stay here with them in the South at least until the spring. Would that be agreeable with you, Fuineth? I had thought of staying that length of time anyway, unless something called me away. I needs must travel to Rohan soon though, and it would be better if you could stay here while I am gone rather than have to leave early for me take you North first.”

She nodded, and they fell into silence so that only the sound of the horses’ hooves thudding quietly on the ground could be heard as dusk fell.

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After some few more days the King and Queen returned. No sooner had they arrived in Minas Tirith but Fuineth was summoned to the Queen’s chambers.

“Fuineth,” the Queen smiled and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek before Fuineth had time to curtsey.

“Oh! Your highness!” She was flustered.

Arwen laughed, “Oh forgive me, Fuineth, I have put you ill at ease and it was not my intention to do so. I am just so pleased to see you because I have news for you. Please, sit,” and she indicated the space on the couch beside her. “I and the King have spoken, though in reality it is entirely my decision to choose as I see fit, but I wished to know his opinion and he thinks it an excellent idea.” She paused, smiling broadly and her eyes bright with excitement. “You must of course not feel beholden in any way, my dear, and I wish you to be absolutely honest to me if you think you would not like it, but... I would like you to become one of my ladies-in-waiting. I have need of one more since it would seem Lotheliel is to be married soon.”

She waited expectantly to see what Fuineth’s reaction would be.

Fuineth had gasped as the Queen had spoken, since it was entirely unexpected, and such a magnanimous and sincere offer it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “Oh.. Thankyou, your highness, nothing could give me greater pleasure than to join your court. You do me a great honour, far more than I merit, in asking me to do so.”

Arwen seemed delighted, “Then that is settled. Good, I am glad. I was worried you might have wished to return North, and I would have entirely understood if you had, but we travel North fairly frequently, as you know, to visit my father as well as Arnor. You will be able to travel with us, and at other times if needs be with your brother, of course.” She paused, seeing that Fuineth was still a little bewildered, if smiling in delight. Arwen embraced her. “Truly I am glad. You will not be able to be so formal with me now,” she grinned, “And for that alone it will be worth it. I will get your things moved to a room nearer to mine first thing tomorrow.”

So it was settled: Fuineth was now a permanent fixture of the High Court of Minas Tirith. Her brother was nearly as delighted as she, particularly since his heart was now tied to the South. This meant they would not be parted so often or for so long, especially once he married.

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Nearly three weeks after her return to Minas Tirith there was great excitement in the Citadel. Ambassadors were coming from the South and from Lorien to meet the King on various matters. There was to be a banquet and a dance for the guests to which many had been invited including elves from Ithilien as well as the Lord Faramir with some of his lieutenants, though he and the Lady Eowyn excused themselves saying they regretfully could not attend (it was still too soon for them to contemplate such a thing especially since both Fuineth and Legolas would be there). Lord Legolas’s coming was near guaranteed given that Haldir and his brothers were coming also, but Fuineth still wondered if he might just send his excuses and some representatives especially if he hadn’t heard that Lord Faramir would not be coming.

Guests began to arrive a day or two before the day of the banquet. Two days before it the afternoon was spent in the Throne Room with the King and Queen as they received each party that had arrived so far. The two chief ambassadors of Prince Imrahil had arrived in the morning and were received first. Then came a few Gondorian nobles and lastly came the party from Ithilien. Two were the elves Fuineth had seen at Osgiliath, with their wives or betrothed, and there was also Ithilien’s Captain of the Guard and two or three other elven nobles. And of course, much to her delight, there was Lord Legolas himself, still dressed in his green and brown travelling gear.

Aragorn stood to receive him, the first for whom he had done so, and even came down the steps from his throne to embrace him warmly. “Mae govannen, mellon nin.” Still with Aragorn’s arm on his shoulder Legolas turned to the Queen, murmured a greeting and, bowing, kissed her hand.

There was a general melee now in the throne room of guests, courtiers and servants. Old friends greeted each other and began gossiping or discussing matters of state till there was a general hubbub of chatter.

Fuineth found herself in conversation with two of the elves from Ithilien whom she had met when she had visited there with her brother. Another, who she didn’t know, had joined their group and she was now listening to hurried chatter in Sindarin. Most of it she could catch if she concentrated hard enough, but with the noise around her she was having difficulty keeping up.

She had thought of looking around to find her brother when she heard a quiet voice in her right ear, “You must excuse my elven-brethren. They forget themselves sometimes and assume all the world can speak fluent Sindarin if not Quenya.”

She laughed, turning towards the figure now stood beside her. “Welcome, Lord Legolas,” she smiled.

“My Lady Fuineth,” as he bent to kiss her hand.

Their eyes met once more, his sparkling still at their shared laughter at his comrades’ expense who were still chattering, oblivious.

“I trust you had a pleasant journey here, my lord?”

“Well enough. I hear that you are to be congratulated. You are now a member of the Court of Minas Tirith I am told.”

She blushed slightly, “I am still getting used to it, but yes. It is a great honour.”

“It is indeed, but I am not surprised. I know Queen Arwen holds a strong affection for you,” and his eyes met hers and held her gaze as he added softly, “And she was ever an excellent judge of character.”

She smiled, “You flatter me too much, my lord.”

“No indeed. But forgive me if I have over stepped my mark.”

She shook her head, “Not at all, my lord. I only fear I do not deserve such praise.” She smiled warmly and continued, “Are you to stay for the banquet and the dance?”

“But of course! That is the only reason I have come!” She laughed once more. “My lady, you know the elves and their ways well enough, do you think I would come all this way for aught else?” and he grinned as he spoke.

A messenger appeared at his elbow. “Forgive me, my Lord, but the King requests you meet him in his chambers as soon as you are able.”

“Very well, I will be there presently.” He turned back to her, “Forgive me, my lady, but the King calls.”

“Of course.”

“We will talk again soon enough I am sure. Till then, my lady.” He bowed and turned to follow the messenger.

------------------------------------------

As it happened they had little opportunity to meet that day. Even when they were in the same room it was in large company and he was always kept busy, as was she indeed, for there were many people she needed to meet and she was constantly being introduced to various guests, whether by the Queen, her brother or the other ladies-in-waiting, till trying to remember their names and their principalities or titles began to make her head spin.

As soon as she found herself alone for no more than a minute the following morning she took herself to the gardens that looked out over the city and the Pelennor and away East towards Mordor.

There was a wind, and her hair was blowing around her, but she was glad of it: the freshness and its bite. It helped her to clear her head a little and she breathed deep.

She heard a step behind her and she turned. For her to have heard his approach meant he must have deliberately wanted her to know of his presence.

“I do not wish to intrude, my Lady, but may I join you?”

“But of course, my lord. I would be glad of your company.”

He smiled coming to stand next to her and look out over the city. “I stood here after the Battle of Pelennor Fields with your brother,” he said after a little while, “before we rode to the Black Gate.”

She could not be certain but she thought she could see his jaw tighten slightly as he spoke of it. “It must have been a terrible time,” she said quietly, “There are some things my brother simply will not speak of, nor do I blame him.”

Legolas nodded but did not reply at first. Then he looked at her, “You saw something of it at Helm’s Deep, Lady Fuineth. Here it was worse. Much worse.”

She could well believe it.

So they talked for some time of the War and those who had fallen and the heroic deeds done, his own no less than many others. After a little while they began to walk also, her head bowed slightly as she listened, looking at him now and then to catch the expression in his eye as he spoke or else to follow his direction as he pointed out this place or that in the landscape below them.

He in turn found her quiet interest companionable and it pleased him that he had found her here. He had wanted to talk with her some more the previous day, but everything had worked against it. They were moving on to lighter subjects now. She was telling him of the North and what she had thought of Rivendell and his brethren there. He delighted in hearing her talk of the elves in whose company she clearly took great pleasure. He found her well instructed and learned in their lore which surprised him a little.

“You know much, if you would forgive me saying so, Lady Fuineth, of elves and elvish lore. I know you are of the Dúnedain, but how came you by so much information in Rohan? The Rohirrim are a great and noble race, but insular and have had little contact with elves, as I heard and saw in their reaction to me when I came there.”

She smiled, “My brother taught me much of what I knew. He is much older than I. I can barely remember my father, being but eight years old when he was killed and my mother took us South to her country. My brother was fourteen, and already learning much both from him and the other Dúnedain, indeed from the elves of Rivendell also. As soon as he was old enough he was travelling to the North, and would stay for months and months at a time. He went less after my mother died, but still would sometimes go leaving me with my uncle and his family...”

She trailed off, staring out over the city once more, suddenly reminded of how many had fallen and how much had been lost.

Legolas did not disturb her silence since he could guess where her mind was. Then at last he murmured quietly, “Much was sacrificed, but it was necessary, my lady. Without it...” he stopped. “But let us not think on it. What is done is done, and we are here and we have every reason to be happy and thank the Valar. Above all else we have a celebration to enjoy tomorrow do we not?”

He had made her laugh a little with that and he was glad. It moved him to see her so sad and thoughtful at times.

He turned his head to look at her, so pale and still, yet with a fire in her grey eyes that matched his own. She was tall, even for a Dúnedain, as was her brother, and her dark hair was flowing out behind her as she stood in the wind on the top of Minas Tirith, her mind elsewhere thinking of the stories she had heard told and the men and elves that had fallen here in times past. And it struck Legolas, perhaps not for the first time, that she was beautiful; but, a voice inside him said, a mortal.

He sighed, concerned by the feelings he suspected were growing within him. She turned to him on hearing it, and was about to speak, when they heard the sound of horses’ hooves in the courtyard behind them.

“More guests, I do not doubt. I have to go, my lord, forgive me, but they will have need of me inside, especially if more ladies have arrived as I suspect they may have.”

He smiled, “Of course. Let me walk with you back to the White Tower.”

They walked quietly turning away from the relative peace of the scene below and heading to join the bustle and excitement in the Citadel once more.

As they entered the Place of the Fountain Legolas gave a cry. “Haldir!”

By the side of the white tree a tall, elegant elf had just got off his horse and he turned at Legolas’s cry with a broad grin spreading over his face. The two elves who had arrived with him had turned also and all three began to stride towards Legolas. They greeted each other heartily, laughing and smiling to see each other again.

Fuineth watched for a moment then turned to enter the Tower when she heard her name called.

“Lady Fuineth?” Legolas was walking towards her now, the three elves following. “Lady Fuineth, allow me to introduce you to Haldir, Marchwarden of the Galadhrim of Lorien, and his brothers Orophin and Rúmil.”

They bowed and she greeted them in Sindarin thus: “Well met, my lords. I am honoured to meet those of whom I have heard much, and whose deeds in the defence of Lorien are well known. You are most welcome to Minas Tirith.”

They murmured their thanks and smiled, clearly surprised to hear her use elvish.

She could see Legolas grinning at her also and she tried to ignore him. “If you will excuse me, my lords, I suspect the Queen may have need of me and I needs must go. No doubt we shall meet once more, if not today then at the banquet tomorrow.” They bowed once more.

As she left she felt him there behind her and turned back to see the Galadhrim were unburdening their horses while he was smiling at her. “I will see you later, I hope, my lady?”

She nodded, “Of that I am sure, my lord.” He bowed and withdrew to join his friends.

-----------------------------------------------

That afternoon there was again the formal reception of the guests so far. The Throne Room was filled with the arrivals from yesterday as the new arrivals were brought forward in their groups to greet the King and Queen. More Gondorian knights, including the Captains from Osgiliath, had arrived in the morning as well as three more lords from Dol Amroth. The Galadhrim were next: Haldir and his brothers were accompanied by four other elves, all representatives of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Then came the Queen’s brothers who, not having seen her for a little time, had taken the opportunity to visit. Rohan was represented by the Marshalls of the East and West Mark, Elfhelm and Erkenbrand, since the King himself was unable to attend. And last came three dwarves to represent their nearby dwarfhold in the Glittering Caves and Gimli of Gloin who was also otherwise engaged.

When Legolas had entered the hall and greeted the King and Queen he had moved to one side to stand with Fuineth and her brother. Túveren was delighted to see the twins whom he knew well. Fuineth herself had never met them properly before, despite their being at Helm’s Deep and her few visits to Rivendell, and her brother and Legolas quickly introduced them. She then excused herself to greet the Rohirrim who were now stepping to one side from the thrones. They were pleased to see both her and her brother, and the four quickly formed a group talking excitedly as they brought the latest news from Rohan and Edoras.

Thus another few hours of chatter and introductions passed away. She could see Legolas as he moved from group to group, though spending most of his time now with the King and Queen, the twins and the Galadhrim as well as the elves from Ithilien. Often her brother would join them, and she realised that it was at events like this that she began to truly appreciate her brother’s station among them all since he knew them all and was treated warmly by them. Being a Dúnedain, and one who had ridden with and fought beside Aragorn in the War, had done much for him and she was glad for his sake.

As the company began to drift away, excusing themselves for dinner engagements and prior meetings they must attend, Fuineth noticed Legolas approaching her. The Galadhrim and the twins had exited with the King and Queen and she imagined Legolas would join them. She smiled as he drew near, as did he.

“Lady Fuineth. Are you busy? Do I disturb you?”

“Not at all, my lord. Indeed I think the company are leaving, if slowly. The King and Queen have already left, so I am free to my own devises for some little while I believe.”

He nodded. “I am surprised you had not met the Queen’s brothers before now. Did you not meet them at Helm’s Deep?”

“No, there was not enough time for me to be formally introduced then and they were always away the few times I visited Rivendell, though I had heard of them, of course, and they know my brother. They did so even before the War.”

“So I hear. The Galadhrim were most impressed by your use of Sindarin, you know.” He grinned, though she flushed a little.

“Well, I was trying to be courteous, I am sure my pronunciation is not what it should be, and I am by no means fluent.”

He shook his head, “No, Lady Fuineth, you speak as one taught by the elves themselves, though I am sure it was all your brother’s work, was it not?”

“Mostly, though father had already taught me quite a bit. The few songs I know my father taught me.”

“Ah, yes. So you told me long ago: the Quenyan song of the elf-maid and her mortal love.”

He was looking at her now with a gentle gaze straight into her eyes. There was no awkwardness as he spoke of it, and she did not feel any as she returned his look, stirred by the memory, “Yes my lord. That song is possibly all the Quenya I know, I must confess.”

He nodded, never taking his eyes off her, and she realised he was closer now, speaking more softly so that no-one passing by would have heard whatever they may have been saying. “You must teach me it some day, if you are willing. That would please me greatly.”

She looked at him, clearly surprised, “And me too, my lord, though I hesitate to teach such a one as you an elvish song...” She laughed softly.

“Why do you laugh, my lady? It is a beautiful song and I do not know it. How else will I learn it, if not from you?”

She nodded, “Of course, my lord. Forgive me. It’s simply... the idea of a mortal teaching an elf Quenya songs...” and she broke off into a gentle peal of laughter once more.

He could not help but laugh too at the image of it. “Very well, my lady. We shall have to do it secretly, or else my reputation would be ruined,” he said in mock seriousness and there was soft laughter from her once more.

They were both smiling, their eyes locked, but anyone looking closely might have seen something else within that gaze: something that even they themselves were probably not aware of. A light, or spark, or connection between them that only seemed to grow the more they smiled and the more they caught one another’s glances.

There was a soft, brief silence before he said, still holding her gaze, “It gladdens my heart to hear your laugh, Lady Fuineth. You should laugh more often, it suits you.”

She gave him a quizzical look, though still smiling, “Indeed, my lord? I had thought you to be one who liked seriousness above all else.”

He looked surprised by this, “Have I really given you that impression? Then you must forgive me, my lady. I am an elf after all and nothing delights me more than music and song and beauty.”

‘And I see all of those in you,’ he thought and he shocked himself by thinking it.

Something was in his eyes though as the thought came upon him, and she read it there even if she did not, in truth, realise what it was she saw. She felt herself flushing for no good reason, and yet she did not break her gaze from his, “Then, my lord, you must teach me of those things you admire, that I may best admire them also.”

He nodded, “Of course, my lady. I would be honoured.”

Again a moment of silence.

“Forgive me, Lady Fuineth. I am expected to join the King. I did not wish to do so without talking to you first. Perhaps we shall see each other again this evening?”

“I am invited to the house of my brother’s betrothed this evening I fear, my lord.”

“Ah,” he seemed disappointed, “Fate has other plans, it would seem. Well then, I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

She smiled, “Indeed, my lord. If I manage to take a walk in the gardens, perhaps I shall look for you there once more?”

He nodded, pleased by this idea. “Indeed, my lady, I shall endeavour to join you, though I cannot guarantee it. There will be many meetings and discussions tomorrow, I fear.”

She nodded in her turn, “I understand, my lord. You had best go and join the King before they send someone to look for you.”

He smiled. “Navaer, hiril nín,” he said as he bowed.

“Navaer, hîr nín,” she replied. He took her hand gently, kissed it and left to join the King.


mae govannen = well met;
mellon nin = my friend;
navaer = farewell;
hiril nin = my lady;
hir nin = my lord.


Chapter 9 - The Banquet

Chapter 8 ~ The Banquet


The day of the banquet was a busy one and there was much to do. Even the night before it, when her brother had returned her to the palace, she had been summoned to the Queen’s chambers to discuss dresses and what both the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting would be wearing.

Fuineth had been given a dress made by the elves of Rivendell that she had kept aside for an occasion such as this. It was dark green with silver embroidery of leaves and tendrils on the sleeves, neck and hem of the skirt. She had a silver belt from Rohan, worn on the hip with the strap hanging low in front as was the style there, that the Queen agreed went very well with it.

“The colour suits you, Fuineth,” she had said and Fuineth had been glad.

Fuineth had very little jewellery: a ring from her father and a bracelet, now broken though she kept it still, that her mother had always worn were all she possessed. The Queen insisted on giving her a thin circle of silver ornately and delicately fashioned in the center, to be worn across the forehead. It was clearly elvish and a thing of great beauty.

“I cannot accept such a rich gift, your highness. You do me too much honour.”

“Nonsense, Fuineth. You needs must have something pretty to wear with such a dress, and both I and the other ladies in court have many similar things and will be wearing them. You will not seem out of place with it, indeed I think it suits you wonderfully and you will please me greatly if you accept and wear it tomorrow night.” Fuineth murmured her thanks, though she was a little overwhelmed by such a gift.

The following morning she again found she had some time to herself, and went outside to escape from the bustle inside that was now approaching the level of near-hysteria.

It was not so cold as the previous day, nor as windy. Grey clouds scudded across the sky towards the South, but here the sky was clear and the air crisp. She walked a little while, looking out across the Pelennor and picking out once more those places shown to her by the prince the previous day. She looked East towards Ithilien and wondered when she might be able to visit him there as she had promised she would. She had mentioned it to Túveren, but it seemed unlikely she would be able to go before his marriage in a month or two.

After some little while she began to feel the cold and she was also worried she may be needed inside. She was sorry she had missed Lord Legolas but had known he was likely to have been too busy along with the other ambassadors to meet her. The King would be in his chambers most of the day and it was arranged that food would be sent up for him and the select group with him sometime after midday. She was not surprised Lord Legolas had been unable to escape.

However, as she made her way back towards the White Tower and the High Court she saw a tall figure walking towards her. She smiled.

“Hiril nín,” and he bowed before coming closer, “I fear I have arrived too late. You are on your way back inside.”

She nodded, “Yes, but only because I fear they may be looking for me. It is a busy day today, for us both.”

“Yes indeed. I am sorry I was not able to get here before, but I have been locked in conference all morning.”

He sighed and she smiled. “Such are the responsibilities of your station, my lord, much as they may tire you. I knew not to expect you, though I confess I am glad to see you.”

He smiled, pleased at this admission of hers. “Would you walk with me a little, perhaps? Or must you go straight away?” he asked.

She considered, looking at him smiling at her. “I can spare a little time with you, my lord. After all is it not part of my duties this day to make the guests feel welcome? A guest has asked me to walk with him, and so I will do as he requests.”

He smiled more broadly, as she pretended to put on a mock-serious air almost as if she was trying to justify it before the Queen herself. “A fair assessment, and one that no-one could say was not justified. This guest shall be most upset if he cannot have the pleasure of your company if only for a few minutes, and as you say, you must not under any circumstances upset the guests.” His eyes were glittering with amusement.

She nodded. “Exactly so, my lord,” she agreed before releasing that soft peal of laughter he loved so well.

They did indeed walk only for a little while. Legolas himself needed to return ere long to the conferences and discussions being held. They talked of general things, nothing of consequence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Sometimes they would walk so close she could feel the brush of her shoulder against his arm, but he did not seem to notice or if he did he did not react. After a little while they walked back to the White Tower where he kissed her hand farewell and returned to the King.

---------------------------------------------

The rest of the day seemed to just disappear it went past so quickly. Before she knew it, Fuineth and the other three ladies-in-waiting were called for and began to prepare themselves. When they were ready they in turn went to help dress and prepare the Queen.

There was much excitement and giggling amongst them all, and even Queen Undomiel joined in at times. Fuineth watched her as she stood there, asking if she was ready. She looked beautiful, and Fuineth told her so, as did the other ladies-in-waiting. The Queen flushed slightly and thanked them. Then they left to make their way to the large antechamber next to the banqueting hall.

As the Queen and her ladies entered a murmur went round the room, for truly Arwen looked magnificent, and her ladies-in-waiting were a sight to behold also. King Elessar came forward and, greeting his Queen with a kiss on the cheek, murmured how beautiful she looked. Then he led her off, arm in arm, to greet some of the guests.

Fuineth was immediately confronted by her brother. “Fuineth, you look wonderful,” he grinned.

“Thankyou Túveren, and you also.”

He was dressed in a sumptuous tunic of blue and gold. A gift from the King and of elvish make.

As they talked and were joined by the two Rohirrim, Elsbeth (Túveren’s bethrothed) and her brother Orodor, Fuineth saw Legolas on the other side of the room watching her. He was dressed in a silver tunic, and his hair shone and reflected the brilliance of the colour. He nodded, smiling, and she returned his greeting but he did not move though he watched her still. Her attention was distracted by a question directed to her, and when she next looked up Legolas was deep in conversation with Elladan and Rúmil.

Legolas has seen her come in, and had been amazed. He knew she was beautiful but this: this was beyond anything he had imagined. The line and cut of the dress, the elvish silver band upon her brow meant that she was all he could look at. He could not wrest his eyes from her, much as his head was telling him to. After a while she looked up and caught his gaze, and he nodded, not able to move, not trusting himself to go over there and talk to her, and she nodded in return and smiled. It seemed to him she had a smile of such beauty and tenderness, indeed he had thought so even that terrible night when they had first met each other.

Just then he heard a voice behind him, “Legolas? You seem distracted. Is anything amiss?”

He turned to find Elladan and Rúmil looking at him; Elladan with mere curiosity but there seemed something of a grin about Rúmil’s mouth and his eyes were twinkling.

“Not at all, Elladan. Distracted by my own thoughts is all. What are you grinning at, Rúmil?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, my dear Legolas. Though she is beautiful, is she not?”

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Of whom do you speak, Rúmil? There are many beautiful ladies here this evening, not least of which is Elladan’s sister, the fair Undomiel.”

Elladan’s curiosity was piqued now, “Yes, who are you speaking of, Rúmil? Is there someone here who has captured your eye already?” He was grinning, hoping for some titbit that he and the others could tease Rúmil about mercilessly for the rest of the evening.

“No, not me, I fear, Elladan. But I think someone may have caught Legolas’s eye ...”

Elladan’s eyes snapped back to Legolas, “Indeed?” ‘Even better,’ he thought.

Legolas’s face showed nothing, though there was a little colour to his cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

“Rúmil, you were ever a gossip and spreader of false rumour,” returned Legolas, keeping his tone light and jesting, “I would take no notice of him, Elladan. You know better than I how he can be.”

Elladan laughed, “Well that is true enough. Rúmil, forgive me, but I will take whatever information you feel you have with a pinch of salt.”

Rúmil said nothing, though he held Legolas’s gaze and merely nodded slowly. Then he laughed, “Enough of this. I have no wish to embarrass my old friend. And you are right, it may be I am mistaken, for if I am correct I would be exceeding surprised.”

At this Elladan raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to quiz Rúmil on all this later in the evening.

As a way of trying to change the subject Legolas addressed Elladan: “I had forgotten you and your brother knew Túveren so well. Did you meet him often at Rivendell before the War?”

“Yes indeed. He visited us very often. I first met him when he was but a lad when his father visited us once.” He shook his head and sighed, his voice quiet for a moment, “Bad business that. Orc attack.” There was a brief silence. “Still, he would come North quite frequently even when he went to Rohan. He..,” there was a pause and Elladan giggled conspiratorially, “He was quite a one with the ladies, from what we heard.”

Rúmil raised his eyebrow, “Really?”

“Oh yes. And I am not just talking amongst the Dúnedain either.”

Rúmil roared with laughter, “You have to be jesting, Elladan. Elf-maidens? With young Túveren?”

Legolas was grinning: suddenly a question he had long had in his mind was answered for him though he had suspected this was the case.

“I am not, I assure you, Rúmil. Ask Elrohir he’ll tell you.”

“What will I tell Rúmil?” asked his brother, coming to join them and overhearing the last part of the conversation.

“About Túveren and elf-maids,” said Rúmil.

Elrohir laughed, “Oh that! Of course! It was common knowledge in Rivendell. Very skilled too apparently.”

That made them all raise their eyebrows and then collapse into laughter.

“I’m serious,” insisted Elrohir, “We need to talk to the boy, perhaps he may teach us something!” Another roar of laughter.

As they wiped their eyes and still were chuckling Rúmil noticed the stewards entering the hall to say the food was ready. “Come, let’s eat!”

Fuineth was turning to leave when she found a pair of grey-green eyes looking into her own, “May I take you through to the banquet, my lady?”

She smiled, “I would be honoured, my lord, except that Lord Erkenbrand has just asked me. But I thank you for your offer.”

The disappointment was gone from his eyes when he turned to face the proud man he now noticed next to him. He bowed. “Forgive me, Lord Erkenbrand.”

“Not at all Lord Legolas, and well met. We did not have a chance to talk earlier in the Throne Room. I do not think we have seen each other since I left here to take the body of King Theoden to Rohan some years ago.”

“No indeed. It is good to see you once more.” Legolas bowed to Fuineth and turned to joined the feast.

----------------------------------------------

Lord Legolas was at the high table with the King and Queen, Elladan and Elrohir, the two most important ambassadors from Prince Imrahil, the two Rohirrim and the three Galadhrim. Fuineth was on the table nearest to them with various important guests and her brother. She and Legolas would occasionally catch each others’ eye and smile, but otherwise the banquet itself passed without note. There were some speeches and toasts at the end, and it was clear that everyone was enjoying themselves. Then the servants came in to clear the tables and move them to the sides to make space for the dancing and the minstrels, of which there were two sets, Ithilien elves and Gondorian musicians, who now took turns to play dances and more rousing tunes than the quiet songs played through the meal.

Fuineth noticed several females - elves and human - were crowded round Legolas, the Galadhrim and the twins asking for dances. She smiled, but caught Legolas’s glance as he looked up with a flattered if exasperated look on his face. He excused himself and came over to her.

“Well, I could not take you into dinner, but perhaps I will be allowed at least one dance with you this evening, my lady?”

She smiled more broadly, “But of course, my lord. I would be delighted. Though will you find time?” She looked over his shoulder as she said this indicating the throng of women round his friends, “It would seem there are many who would demand such an honour.”

He laughed, “True enough, my lady. But you may notice that they are asking us, whereas I am here asking you.”

Something in his tone made her look at him. She smiled, all at once feeling very shy. “I thank you, my lord,” she murmured, and suddenly she could not hold his gaze and felt herself reddening in spite of herself, “You do me a great honour.”

The music was swelling now and people were taking their places. “Shall we?” Legolas asked with a smile, offering his hand.

She took it and he led her to the floor, and there for the first time they danced. Moving in rhythm, never leaving each others gaze for a moment as their hands touched and parted and they turned and moved and met once more. Fuineth felt breathless as it ended and not due to the dance, which had not been an energetic one.

Túveren appeared next to them. “Lord Legolas, may I?” He indicated his sister and Lord Legolas bowed with a murmured, “Of course,” as her brother led her back out to the floor.

As she turned to her starting position she found she was facing Legolas and she smiled shyly at him as he stood there, eyes twinkling by the light of the torches, watching her as the music struck up once more.

Then there was lady at his side, pulling him by the hand and he had little choice but to be gracious and join her in the dance, though all he wanted to do was watch Túveren and his sister. Even as he moved mechanically with the woman now in front of him, now walking round him, now turned away and back again, he was thinking of Fuineth, and how she had looked and how she had felt as he had touched her hand, her arm, her waist.

He shook his head. This was beyond all reason, far from anything he had ever expected. He had never shown any interest in a mortal before, and he had his pick of any elf maid he so chose. It ran contrary to everything he had ever believed till now. But there was something about her, had been even as she had sat still in the darkness of his room in Edoras singing her Quenya song of love found and love lost, and though he dared not admit it to himself he found himself attracted to her. The way she was dressed tonight was not helping.

The dance ended. He thanked the lady graciously, and turned to find that Fuineth was already taken for the next dance. ‘And by Erkenbrand,’ Legolas noted with some annoyance.

He moved off to find a drink when Rúmil caught him by the arm. “Forgive me if I was overbold earlier, my friend. I meant only to tease, thinking I was not near the mark, but I saw by your expression I hit nearer than I guessed. I did not mean to offend.”

Legolas smiled, “I am sure I don’t know what you mean, Rúmil. If you think I have affections for someone you are much mistaken.”

Rúmil looked at him, considering for a moment. “I understand. I think I would feel the same if it were me, and considering what you have said about mortal women in the past. . .”

Legolas’s eyes flashed but he said nothing.

Rúmil noted the clenching in his jaw, though, and hurriedly added, “As I say I would feel the same in your position I am sure. Not that there is a position, of course, since there is no-one particular in your affections. Let us let the matter drop, shall we?”

He smiled at his friend, and Legolas relented. He knew that Rúmil meant nothing by it. He was more annoyed with himself that he had done something by which Rúmil had guessed that which Legolas did not even want to admit to himself as yet. He returned his smile, “Have no fear, my friend. I am not angry. Come, let us find some wine, and then some women to dance with.”

Rúmil clasped him round the shoulder. “Now that, my dear Legolas, sounds like a fine plan indeed!”

Several more dances went by and in each one Fuineth found herself with a different partner. Some were people she knew well – such as the Rohirrim – others ones she had just met and whom she had a duty to make feel welcome and she would not have refused.

As yet another dance ended, she heard steps behind her. “My Lady Fuineth. Could I have the honour of the next dance?” She turned to find herself looking into the blue eyes and fair-haired countenance of her future brother-in-law, Elsbeth’s brother and Captain of the Guard.

She nodded her head graciously, smiling, and saying, “You flatter me Orodor, but I need to rest. I will gladly have the next dance after this with you if you will be so good as to find me something to wet my throat. It is dreadful warm in here.”

“Certainly, come with me,” and he held out his arm for her to take.

Legolas had not stopped either. The Galadhrim and the twins were clearly enjoying themselves, as was he to a certain extent, but he could not get his mind away from Fuineth, nor stop looking at her every now and then. She was a good dancer, lithe and with flowing graceful movements.

He looked for her once more over the shoulder of his current dancing partner as the music ended and when he saw her moving away from the floor arm in arm with someone for a moment he froze and only relaxed when he realised who it was. This was becoming ridiculous. He needed to get a hold of himself. Perhaps he had had too much wine at the banquet. He moved away, giving his apologies to yet another woman who had approached him in a hopeful manner for the next dance. His throat was parched: he needed a drink.

As Orodor and Fuineth moved back through the assembled guests towards the ring of dancing couples to await the next dance, a figure in silver approached them. “My lady Fuineth, are you enjoying the dance?”

“Very much, my lord, and you?”

“But of course, though I must admit it would be made more pleasant if I could catch you long enough to have another dance with you.”

She beamed, “But of course, Lord Legolas, I should enjoy that very much. Do you know Captain Orodor? His sister is betrothed to Túveren.”

“But of course. It is good to see you once again, Orodor, I have heard of your sister’s betrothal to Túveren. He is a good friend and may I congratulate your sister on her choice.”

“My Lord, I thank you. I too am delighted for them both.”

As the music faded, Fuineth apologised to Legolas explaining she had promised the next dance to Orodor, but his would be the next after that. He nodded and drained his cup watching with smiling eyes as she danced.

As he watched her, though, he could hear raised voices behind him. One was Orophin’s and there was another in a lower register with a thicker accent. He turned.

Orophin was standing glaring down at one of the dwarves. Legolas sighed. Not now. Not here. He went over to them. “Orophin! Nafur! What is going on here? Please, whatever it is I am sure that, once heads are clearer and less wine drunk, tomorrow it will not seem so serious.”

The dwarf and the elf glowered at each other and Legolas could see the other two dwarves looked less than pleased also.

“Orophin, why are you not dancing? Are there not enough beauties here for you?” Túveren had joined Legolas, throwing a questioning glance towards him. “Here, Orophin, Túveren will help you find your brothers and perhaps introduce you to some pretty maid to dance with the while.”

He looked at Túveren meaningfully as he said this and then, hearing the music dying away, added, “Tell Lady Fuineth I will have to miss this dance, but I will take the next one with her if I may.” Túveren nodded and led Orophin away and as he did so Legolas used his best diplomatic skills to calm the ire of the dwarves.

When he had finally finished with them, the next dance had begun and he was pleased to see that Fuineth had managed to find another partner for it: clearly one the captains of Minas Tirith since he was wearing his livery. Legolas turned instead to join Túveren at one of the tables to have another cup before the next dance began.

“I have been hearing of your exploits in Rivendell, Túveren of the Dúnedain.”

Túveren looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean, Lord Legolas?”

Legolas grinned, “Elladan and Elrohir were telling me. Quite the ladies man, so I hear.”

He laughed as Túveren groaned, “Elbereth, does everyone in Rivendell know? The one thing I cannot cope with about elves is the chatter: you all tell everybody everything!”

Legolas just laughed all the more. “I am surprised, though, that no elf-maid captured your heart in all your dalliances.”

Túveren shook his head and smiled, a little sadly his friend thought, and then brightened suddenly, “But now I have Elsbeth. She is truly wonderous. As beautiful as any elven maid I will swear!”

Legolas grinned, “Indeed.”

As he spoke Túveren turned to watch Elsbeth who was dancing with one of the Dol Amroth ambassadors. He smiled, clearly delighting in watching her, when Legolas suddenly saw him stiffen and murmur, “Elbereth!”

“What is it?” asked Legolas as he saw his friend’s lips grow tight in anger and his eyes narrow. He looked in the same direction and could see nothing untoward, unless... it seemed that Túveren’s gaze was now fixed upon his sister.

Before Legolas could say any more Orodor approached them and, bending towards them both, hands spread on the table, he said to Túveren, “Have you seen Torgil?” Túveren nodded, shaking with anger now, and Orodor was looking dark indeed.

Legolas looked from one to the other, concern and incomprehension written all over his face. Through clenched teeth Orodor explained, “The captain dancing with the Lady Fuineth is a worm and a scoundrel of the vilest sort. If I had my way I would run him out of the Guard but my hands are tied. When Túveren last met him it came to blows over insults Torgil had made and it was not Túveren that came off the worst I am pleased to say. Torgil knows exactly whom he is dancing with and this is a deliberate insult to Túveren.”

“He has a very low opinion of the people of the North.” Túveren looked at Legolas as he spoke and the fury was unmistakeable in his voice, “and also of the elves I might add.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow and his tone was cool, “Indeed?”

He was watching Fuineth now, anxiously looking for a sign of anything untoward. At first he saw nothing but the dance and his heart began to relax. It was but a dance after all, despite whatever history there may be between Túveren and this man, but then he saw it, just for the briefest instant: a flash of pain in her eyes, and he saw him holding her by the wrist hard enough that her skin was white around his grip, and he had moved close to her. Far too close for Legolas’s liking.

On seeing him leap up, anger clear upon his face, Túveren and Orodor also quickly stood and turned trying to see what it was that Legolas had reacted to. Before they had time to ask him, the music was ending once more, and they could see Torgil leading Fuineth away. They seemed to be talking courteously enough but just once she managed to look round behind her as if trying to find someone in the crowd and Legolas, his keen eyes serving him better than the other two in the flickering lights of the torches, could see panic written in her eyes.

With a roar he was off, the other two following close behind him, pushing his way through the throng so he could get to the other side of the room where he could see Torgil leading her away into the shadows.


Hiril nin = my lady


Chapter 10 - In Danger

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/given feedback so far on the three sites I am posting this on (here, AFF & FF - the latter without the 2 NC17 chapters of course). So glad people are enjoying it. Due to various requests I will be speeding up the posting rate so it will now be 2 chapters every 3-4 days rather than every week. Hope this is okay for everyone – if not, let me know.

Now you can find out what that swine Tilgor was up to and if he gets away with it or not........ Enjoy!

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Chapter 9 ~ In Danger


Fuineth was disappointed Legolas could not make that dance. She had been looking forward to it.

Her brother assured her, “He’s having to calm the dwarves. A little misunderstanding between them and the Galadhrim. He’ll be available for the next dance.”

She nodded as he had led Orophin away to the crowd of ladies that seemed to permanently fixed to his brothers and Elrond’s sons.

As Fuineth turned to leave the dancing area a man stepped forward dressed in Captain’s livery. He bowed and smiled graciously, “Lady Fuineth I believe? Would you do me the honour of allowing me this dance?”

She had smiled politely and, of course, agreed since as a lady-in-waiting she could in no way refuse one of the Captains of the Guard of the Citadel. However, as they danced she began to feel a little uncomfortable. He danced well enough, but there was something about him that unnerved her slightly.

He talked a little as they danced, and when he mentioned her brother he did so in a tone of voice that made it clear he had a low opinion of him. Trying to ignore this – it was only one dance after all – Fuineth made no comment, and the man was now saying, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Northerner of course. All peasants and ignorants up there.”

She frowned, “Your King whom you serve is from North, as is his Queen.”

She saw his eyes flash, “Don’t remind me!” he spat, and she suddenly realised that his grip on her wrist had tightened quite considerably and it hurt her.

“Please, you are hurting me,” she pleaded but he would not release his grip or loosen it. Instead he seemed to be moving closer to her every time the movements of the dance meant they had to face each other and she could feel his breath on her face. She was powerless to do anything, the grip on her wrist was such, except hope it would be over soon.

As the music died away, however, he pulled her to him, still keeping a tight hold on her right wrist, so she was standing on his left side and his left hand was placed in her back, pushing her away from the dancing area. “You will do me the honour of taking some fresh air with me, my lady?” And though it was a question it was clear he was not going to wait for an answer.

She was twisting her hand now, trying desperately to get it free of him, and tried to look into the crowd to see if she could see her brother, Orodor, or even Lord Legolas. He would be coming to the floor for this next dance, wouldn’t he? Túveren had said he would. Where was he? She could feel herself panicking now. There was no sign of Lord Legolas or anyone else she knew well, and before she could do anything he had her through the crowd and into the shadows by the wall.

“Let go of me, sir! You are no gentleman to treat a lady so. Please!” But she could have spoken to a stone for all the response she got.

Once he was away from the general crowd, he pulled her roughly in front of him. “Now, ‘Lady’ Fuineth, let’s see if you have the same reputation your brother made a name for himself with, hmmm?”

He moved his head towards her clearly with the intent of kissing her. As he did so she managed to wrest her hand free of him at last and slapped him. Hard. But he still had his arms on either side of her against the wall he had pushed her up against.

“Let me go or I will scream,” she said quietly, surprising herself by how she felt more anger than fear.

“And who will hear you above this racket?” he sneered, his face coming close to hers, “Can you not hear the music, the screams and shouts of the revellers and dancers? What will one more shout be to them?”

Then, without warning, he felt his head pulled back violently by the hair. In one fluid movement he was spun round and away from Fuineth, his sword belt cut so that it fell to the floor and he landed, back against the wall, with a sword at his throat.

A tall, blond figure dressed in silver, stepped forward from the dark saying, in little more than a growl, “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat where you stand?”

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Túveren and Orodor had had difficulty keeping up with Legolas. However their movements did not go unnoticed. Most were dancing or busy drinking, but Haldir, in discussion with Aragorn at the time, saw Legolas push through the crowd. He exchanged a glance with the King and as one they stood. Both had seen the expression on Legolas’s face and knew something was wrong. They followed as best they could.

Túveren and Orodor reached the shadows beyond the crowd and, looking this way and that into the gloom, they saw them: Fuineth, rubbing her wrist in shock; Torgil with his back against the wall; and Legolas, blade drawn and pointing towards Torgil’s throat, glancing quickly at Fuineth and asking her gently if she was alright. She nodded just as her brother and Orodor reached them.

With roar of rage Túveren lunged at Torgil, knocking Legolas’s blade from his way and clamping his hands round Torgil’s neck. “I’ll kill you, you whoreson! I will tear you apart with my bare hands!”

“TÚVEREN!” Not even the King’s voice could stop Túveren in his fury. “Legolas, get him off him. What is going on here?”

Legolas and Orodor stepped forward to hold Túveren back. Only when he was forcibly dragged off and could see the face of the King black as thunder did he stop fighting their hold on him, and he stood there breathing hard, his face twisted in his rage.

Legolas immediately crossed over to Fuineth. He touched her lightly on the shoulder, looking urgently into her eyes, “Are you alright, my lady? Forgive me if I alarmed you.”

She shook her head, “No you did not and I am most grateful for your intervention..” and she broke down then and there, bringing her hands up to her head and sobbing.

Túveren ran over to her, his fury forgotten at his sister’s distress. Legolas stepped back to allow Túveren to take her in his arms, and she buried herself into his chest trying to get control of herself.

Orodor was explaining to the King what they had witnessed, while Haldir held Torgil, still coughing and gasping from Túveren’s hold on him. Legolas now came over and, taking the King to one side, explained in more detail what he had seen during the dance as well as the scene he had found in the darkness.

The King’s face was a terrible sight as he turned back to the rest. “Orodor, get two of your men. Now!” he ordered.

He stood for a few minutes gazing at Torgil levelly and then walked towards him. Torgil whimpered slightly, “My liege, I. .” but his words died in his throat with a rasp as the King grabbed him round the neck and pulled him off the floor.

“You are most fortunate,” the King hissed, “But for my concern that it may disturb my guests, I would cut you limb from limb right here.” Then he threw him to the floor as Orodor returned with two soldiers. “Take him,” was all that Aragorn said.

Túveren still had his arms about his sister’s shoulders, though she had stopped crying some time before, and the King came over to her and gently asked if she was recovered. She nodded and thanked him for his kindness.

“Do you wish to go to your chambers, Lady Fuineth? Please do not stay unless you wish to,” he said.

She assured him that she would perhaps take a little air, that was all, but she would stay.

He nodded, “As you wish. You are sure you are recovered? He didn’t hurt you in any way?”

She shook her head. “No, I thank you, my liege. Lord Legolas arrived before . . .”

Her voice trailed away, but the King nodded. “Good. I am glad to hear it. We will leave you to compose yourself, my lady. I thank the Valar that you are safe and unharmed.”

She smiled, and thanked him once more as he turned and left taking Haldir with him.

Legolas picked up his sword from where it had fallen and was sheathing it as Fuineth stepped away from her brother wiping away the last of the tears still wet upon her cheek. “I assure you, Túveren, I am quite alright. I am more angry than distressed or afraid.” Her tone was gentle and she sounded determined.

Túveren smiled, “You had us scared, Fuineth.” Legolas looked up to murmur his agreement.

Fuineth turned to him now and, smiling, walked up to him. “It would seem I am in your debt, my lord. I thank you. Truly.”

He smiled and kissed her hand, “It was nothing my lady, I assure you. I am just glad to see you safe.”

They looked at each other for a moment: the elf holding her hand lightly, a smile on his lips and she, also smiling, looking straight into his eyes and for a moment her fear and panic completely forgotten.

Túveren coughed.

They started and turned, Legolas dropping her hand.

Túveren grinned. “Well, you were talking about taking some air, Fuineth?”

She nodded her head, “Yes. It is very hot in here anyway, and I think I need to compose myself before I can face the company.”

“Well shall we go?” Túveren asked, but just then a tall, slim, blonde woman appeared.

“Ah, there you are! Orodor said you would be here. Where have you been? I have been looking everywhere for you. You have missed three dances with me as it is, Túveren, and I am not putting up with it any longer. Come on, it’s no fun without you!” and she had thrown her arms about his neck and kissed him on the cheek as she spoke and now had hold of his hand and was trying to drag him away.

Fuineth was laughing. Túveren was about to try and stop Elsbeth when Fuineth said to him, “Please, Túveren, you go. I am perfectly alright, I assure you. Besides I am sure Lord Legolas will take me for some air, won’t you, my lord?”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised questioningly, and he smiled, “But of course, my lady. Yes, you go, Túveren. I will look after her I promise you. Don’t make your betrothed sit out any more of the dances.”

Túveren nodded, though he did not seem wholly convinced by his sister’s insistence that she was alright, and let his betrothed drag him off into the throng of guests.

Legolas and Fuineth laughed as they watched him disappear. Legolas turned in the darkness and looked at Fuineth, and as he did so she looked up and caught his glance and smiled. “My lord? Shall we go?” she asked gently.

He nodded and, offering her his arm, they made their way back down the side of the hall.


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Half way down one side of the banqueting hall was a doorway that opened into the antechamber where they had all started the evening. That in turn had a large door to the corridor and another at the other end that opened onto a balcony.

As the cool air hit them, Fuineth gasped a little in delight and then breathed deeply. “Oh, how wonderful. It is so nice to be out of the heat for a little while, is it not?”

“You forget, my lady, that we elves do not feel such extremes of temperature as you do. It is certainly pleasant to be here in the night air with the stars for company.”

“How foolish of me to forget such a thing. Forgive me.”

He smiled, “Really, my lady. There is nothing to forgive.”

She moved forward to the balustrade now, letting go of his arm, and he watched her as she laid her hands upon the stone and stared out across the city which was swathed in darkness below. The moonlight shone on her hair and caught the silver threads in her dress and the elven circlet round her head. It seemed to him in that moment she was amongst the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He turned away not wanting to see the sight or acknowledge how he was beginning to feel about this woman, this mortal.

She had looked to him and saw he had turned away from her. “My lord?” she asked gently, “Is anything the matter? Perhaps you wish to return to the dance?”

“No, no, my lady. No, not at all,” and he smiled, “It cheers my heart to be here with you my lady, and to know that you are safe.” His face became clouded for a moment, and she moved over to stand in front of him. “If anything had happened to you...”

His face was white now, the lips tight and she could see the muscle in his cheek clenching and unclenching.

Her hand reached out, the fingertips just resting near the centre of his chest, “But it didn’t, my lord. You saw to that.” She smiled warmly, her voice quiet. “I meant what I said in the Hall, my lord. I am forever in your debt.”

“No indeed, my lady,” he said softly as he covered her hand with his own, laid his other hand gently against her arm and looked into her eyes. “Rather I have repaid some of the debt I owed you from when first we met.”

She flushed, and looked down, but did not remove her hand, “Please, my lord . . ”

He cut her off, “It is true, my lady. I have told you before you did me a great kindness and I am glad to have been able to repay you in some small measure, though in truth it was nothing. I am only glad that you were unharmed.”

She was looking up at him again now and he murmured, “I saw the look in your eyes as you looked round for me, my lady. I was there. I was coming.”

She gasped to hear he had so clearly read her thoughts in that moment she had been dragged into the shadows. She was at a loss and had no words to respond to him with. She felt her eyes fill with tears once more and she did not know why. She gazed into those grey-green eyes, and wondered if he could hear her heart for it seemed to her the sound of it filled her ears till she could hear nothing else.

“You look a little flushed, my lady, perhaps we should sit down.”

He released her hand and she let it fall, nodding silently, allowing him with one hand resting lightly between her shoulders to lead her to a stone seat carved out of the wall to one side of the door of the antechamber. They sat, in silence, and stared out into the night.

It was she who spoke first. “I love the stars,” she said simply. “It is one of the few memories I have of my father: him leading me outside at night to stare upwards while he would tell me their names and teach me the constellations.” She turned to Legolas now, “The elves are great lovers of the stars, are they not? When your people first awoke in the East it was only by the light of the stars that you walked, and they have been special in your hearts ever since then, is that not so?”

He smiled, “Yes indeed, my lady. I too love nights such as these, when it is clear and bright with starlight. I feel truly myself and at peace in such moments.”

She was watching him now as he spoke, nearly as much to himself as her, his eyes bright in the moonlight, the light of the silvered threads in his tunic gleaming and shining. He was beautiful.

And together they talked of the stars. She would point out the constellations that she knew and he would show her ones that she did not or else relate the names of the stars themselves, till at last she shivered slightly, not realising how long they had been there.

He looked concerned. “Forgive me, my lady. We have stayed here over long and now you feel the chill of the night air. Let us return inside where you may be warm again.” She thanked him and nodded though she was, in truth, sorry to leave.

As once more she took his arm and they crossed the antechamber to return to the dance, she stopped and turned towards him slightly. “My lord Legolas?”

“My lady?”

“I..” but she did not finish. She was not even sure what it was she wanted to say. She looked up at him and smiled apologetically.

Returning her smile, he took her free hand gently in his own, kissed it tenderly and laid it on top of her other hand that was hooked under his forearm; arm in arm they went back into the dance.


Chapter 11 - After the Ball Was Over....

Chapter 10 ~ “After The Ball Was Over”


Lord Legolas and Lady Fuineth barely left each other’s sides for the remainder of the evening. They danced together often and delighted in doing so. They would talk as they danced frequently laughing at something one had whispered in the other’s ear.

Every time Legolas looked in her eyes he could see them filled with laughter and a warmth he could scarcely fathom. It was just this one night, he was telling himself, with the wine and the music; one night when he could almost forget himself and then tomorrow everything will be as it was and nothing more.

For her part Fuineth was overwhelmed by how she was feeling. She loved being in his company, whether dancing, talking with the others or even alone as they had been earlier on the balcony. Every time she found him looking at her it pleased her more than she thought possible. Every time she held his hand or felt his touch upon her in a dance she delighted in the feel of him. She had no idea what was happening. She also put it down to the heat, the music, and excitement of the evening.

There was a worry in her mind, however. She found herself looking at him and considering how handsome he was, and that appalled her. He had shown her such kindness and friendship: it was not proper for her to regard in him such a way, not least because of his station but also as one of the Eldar and she a mortal. She did her best to push such thoughts to the back of her mind. Besides, she had the impression that he did not altogether approve of love between the kinds – something Túveren had said one day though she could not now remember what – so there was little point in her even entertaining the hope or allowing it to form.

Even with these concerns in their minds, though, they enjoyed the evening. It was really quite late when the guests began to leave or head for their chambers at last and but a few hours before the dawn.

Orophin and Rúmil had already smuggled a flagon of wine away a little while before and had disappeared. Elladan and Haldir were in deep discussion with the King above their cups. The Queen was saying her farewells to the guests that were leaving. Túveren was to see Elsbeth home, Orodor having left some time before since he was on early watch the next day.

Elrohir took Fuineth’s hand and kissed it, “I bid you good evenin’, my lady, or perhapss that should be good mornin’, and may I thank you ssincerely and (what’z more) with all my heart for the dance you allowed me. It waz truly a joy and a delight: indeed a bounty that I could never have hoped for, a pleashure...”

Fuineth smiled graciously and tried not to laugh as Legolas cut him off and told him to go and sleep it off since he had clearly had far too much of the Dorwinion his father had sent the King. Elrohir stuck his tongue out at him, bowed once more with a muttered farewell to Fuineth, and weaved his way to his chambers.

Legolas turned to Fuineth, “Well, I believe everyone has enjoyed themselves this evening.”

“Indeed, my lord. Was this dance worth your travelling all the way from Ithilien for?” She tried to keep a straight face.

“Well now, let me see. It was certainly better than the dance my father held in Eryn Lasgalen last year but not a patch on the one I attended in Lorien many years ago: that was astonishing.”

She had not expected him to take her question so seriously. Then she saw his eyes smiling in the half-light and laughed. They lapsed into silence, sat on a bench side by side, watching as the last of the guests made their farewells.

At last she said quietly, “I suppose we had better say our farewells also.” He nodded, but neither of them moved.

Queen Arwen came over to them. “Lady Fuineth, I am glad you are still here. I am about to retire to my chambers, could you come and assist me?”

“Certainly, your highness,” replied Fuineth, standing as she did so. Queen Arwen did not move at first, clearly expecting Fuineth to come with her straight away.

Legolas stood also and took the Queen’s hand, “Queen Undomiel. It has been a most entertaining evening. One that will be long remembered here in Minas Tirith, I am sure. I thank you for your hospitality.”

The Queen nodded her thanks while Legolas turned to Fuineth. Again taking her hand he kissed it tenderly and looked into her eyes as he straightened. The Queen was saying farewell to Elladan and Haldir and Legolas took the opportunity, “My lady, it has gladdened my heart to have spent such a night with you. I do not think I could have spent it with one more fair or more enchanting.”

Fuineth flushed, “My lord, you flatter me overmuch.” Her eyes flicked back up to meet his as she continued, “Though, I for my part can honestly say that I could not have wished for better company than yours this night.” He smiled, touched by her words.

The Queen was coming back to them so Fuineth turned to go, but she knew he was watching her leave. As she came to the door she turned her head, and sure enough he was sat back against the table, not having moved at all, just watching her with a smile on his face and a light in his eye.

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Most of the guests left the next day. The elves from Lorien and Rivendell were to stay for a little while, however, and though the remainder of the elves returned to Ithilien, Legolas and the same two stewards who had come with him to Osgiliath stayed for some days also to enjoy their company.

Fuineth, as one of Arwen’s ladies-in-waiting, found that she was often with the guests that remained, as was her brother who knew some of them very well already. Legolas took every opportunity he had to speak to her and once or twice they managed to meet and talk, ever walking arm in arm, in the garden above the city on their own though often it was never very long before either they were joined by company or had to return to it.

Four days or so after the dance Fuineth was reading alone in an antechamber when there came a knock at the door. It was some time after noon and she had barely seen Lord Legolas that day but now she looked up to find that it was him standing in the doorway. She also noticed he was in his travelling clothes of simple greens and browns.

“You are leaving, my lord?” She closed the book on her lap.

“Yes, my lady. Am I disturbing you? I wished to say farewell before I left. The Queen told me you were here.”

“You are not disturbing me, my lord.”

As he moved toward her and came to sit next to her on the window seat he saw sadness in her face. “Lady Fuineth, is there anything the matter?”

“No, not at all, my lord. It’s just ... I hadn’t realised you would be going quite so soon.”

He looked down. “It was never my intention to stay even as long as I have. I have things I must attend to in Ithilien.”

She nodded, her voice betraying no emotion, “Of course, my lord.”

There was a brief silence, neither looking at the other. Then in a very quiet voice Legolas said, “My lady, you have not forgotten my invitation for you to come to Ithilien I trust?”

She looked at him suddenly, “My lord, how can you ask such a thing? Of course I have not. I regret I do not know when I might fulfill my promise, though. I cannot travel alone, of course, and needs must wait for when my brother can bring me and he is due to marry soon. The timing is out of my hands. You know that.”

Legolas nodded, “Forgive me, I was merely trying to remind you.” He looked at her, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I wish to see you again, my lady. Soon.”

She sat mesmerised by the expression on his face, hardly daring to breathe. “My lord?”

“Do not forget, Lady Fuineth, it may not be so long till we will meet again, or so I dare to hope. The Queen is discussing the possibility of coming with her brothers when they visit Ithilien before their journey home. If that happens you will no doubt travel with her, will you not?”

He could see the sadness deepen in her eyes at his words.

“I would indeed, my lord, but it is not certain that it will occur and it seems likely that Lord Elrond’s sons will travel to Ithilien alone. It would also depend upon when my brother chooses to get married as to whether I could travel with her highness even if she were to go. He is thinking to marry in a month or two which could make it impossible. Then there is also talk, as you may know, my lord, that the King and Queen may journey North ere the summer. If that comes to pass I will endeavour to come to Ithlien once more before I go, but if the Queen does not come to Ithilien with her brothers, or else I cannot go with her, I do not see how I may be able to do so.”

Legolas nodded, the disappointment in his face now matching the sadness in her own. “I do not know when I can next come to Minas Tirith, Lady Fuineth. It may not be for many months.”

Nothing was certain, then, and in that moment he felt his throat tighten at the thought that he may not see her for all that time. It shocked him to realise the strength of feeling he now had for her.

Fuineth felt tears, seemingly coming from nowhere.

He saw her eyes glistening with them. In that moment he realised that she felt it too, that they were both in danger, and yet he could not help himself: he reached out, took her hand and held it.

They sat like that for many moments, not speaking, her hand in his: Lady Fuineth now looking out the window willing herself not to cry and yet with a tear rolling down her cheek; and he just watching her, seeing in her the same struggle and fight that he was going through.

At last he spoke, his voice filled with tenderness and sadness, “Maybe it is for the best, my lady, I do not know. Perhaps a little time apart ...”

She looked at him, a gasp on her lips and astonishment in her eyes. Then, as he watched, he saw her realise what he was talking about and her head dropped and she tried to pull her hand away, but he stopped her by laying his other hand on hers and saying in a near whisper, “Do not misunderstand me, my lady, it is not something I would wish for, but my head tells me otherwise.”

She nodded, lifted her head and looked at him as calmly as she could but the distress was clear in her face. “I understand you, my lord, and perhaps you are right. Indeed, I am sure you are. Possibly we should have said as much to ourselves before now.”

He nodded his agreement and murmured, “I am sorry,” as she closed her eyes unable to look at him or to stop another tear from falling.

There was a knock on the door. Legolas, not letting go of her hand, called “Come in” in a surprisingly commanding tone given the emotions rolling through him in that moment.

A messenger appeared through the half open door. “My Lord Legolas? Forgive me, but I have been sent to fetch you. Your horse is ready and the others are mounted and await you.”

Legolas nodded, “I will be there presently.”

“Very good, my lord,” and the messenger disappeared back through the door.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he said, “Forgive me, but I must leave. It has been a great pleasure for me to get to know you better while I have been here. I have ever enjoyed your company, Lady Fuineth.”

She could not look at him, but in a voice more tender than he could have imagined she said, “And I yours, lord Legolas.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but could not find the words. He reached out and gently moved a lock of hair that had fallen across her face and by accident his fingers gently brushed her cheek as he did so. She did not stir at his touch but neither did she stop him. “Navaer, hiril nín.”

She nodded, still not looking at him, “Navaer, hîr nín”. There was the hint of a quaver in her voice and he knew then that she felt this parting as deeply as he.

He stood, letting her hand fall upon the seat where he had just sat and walked to the door where he turned to look at her once more before he left. She did not move nor look round towards him but remained as she was looking out of the window and, though he could not see them, he guessed rightly that the tears were streaming down her face.

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Legolas seemed strangely quiet when he came out into the Place of the Fountain for his horse. The Galadhrim were to travel with him, along with his two stewards, while the Queen’s brothers stayed for a while longer in Minas Tirith.

As their horses moved off towards the Citadel Gate and so down through the city, the elves exchanged stories and chattered but Legolas kept himself at the back of the party and did not join in. Haldir and Rúmil exchanged glances but said nothing.

Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and Lord of Ithilien, was returning to his realm but his thoughts were to remain on Minas Tirith and one there whom he may not see again before autumn came upon the land once more: one whom he knew he could not contemplate ever loving or having for his own.

navaer = farewell

hir nin = my lord

hiril nin = my lady


Chapter 12 - Ithilien

Don’t worry – here is more to satisfy you all. *grin* Will they? Won’t they? Ahhh, questions, questions..... *wink*

Keep forgetting to say. If anyone is interested the song that Fuineth was singing to herself that night in Edoras in Legolas's chamber can be found here: http://www.openscrolls.net/fanfic/story.php?no=460 and is also posted at fanfiction.net

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Don’t worry – here is more to satisfy you all. *grin* Will they? Won’t they? Ahhh, questions, questions..... *wink*

Keep forgetting to say. If anyone is interested the song Fuineth sang to herself that night in Edoras – the Quenya one Legolas did not know – is posted here also. I can’t get urls to work on here but you will find it if you click on my author nick. It’s called ‘Love Found, Love Lost’.

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Chapter 11 ~ Ithilien


So Legolas returned to Ithilien and Fuineth stayed at Minas Tirith, neither of them knowing when they would see the other again: fearing it may be not for many months, hoping it might be soon, yet both wondering at such a hope and worrying over its’ potential consequences. They both had to admit it was not wise, nor realistic, to continue down such a road. Better to have ended it then and there before it went further. Both felt they had faced and made a painful decision that day in Minas Tirith, yet neither seemed settled or content with it.

For her part, Fuineth had been initially surprised by Legolas’s comment that parting for some time might be better for them, but in that moment she had also realised he was probably right. She had suspected that he had feelings for her, just as she did for him, and she wished, as much for his sake, to put an end to it: no good could come of it. Of that she felt certain.

And yet....

Fuineth sighed. She was sitting in her chambers, staring out of the window. It was two weeks after he had left and she was still thinking about that day. She felt torn. He had clearly felt, as she did, that this should go no further: why else would he have said what he did? He had been right to say it. She was glad he had. Or so she tried to convince herself. But if she were truthful to herself she suspected her feelings for him seemed all the more acute now he was gone, rather than lessened by his absence. That suspicion made her despair all the more.

Túveren did attempt to broach the subject soon after Legolas had left. “You and Lord Legolas seemed to get on well while he was here,” he had grinned at her.

She had looked at him coolly, “He was most courteous, brother. As were the other guests.”

He laughed, “Oh come now, Fuineth, I know you too well. I have never seen you look at anyone the way you cast looks at Lord Legolas.”

She coloured at this, and angrily snapped, “Nonsense, Túveren! I am sure I don’t know what you mean!”

Túveren was surprised, “No need to get angry. If you do not wish to talk about it, merely say so. I apologise if I have said something I shouldn’t.”

“Indeed you have Túveren. There is nothing but cordial friendship between myself and Lord Legolas and you should be ashamed to suggest anything else.”

He had looked at her then more closely but said nothing.

Today he had come to visit her and, as he watched her gaze despondently out of her window, he determined he would say something about it once more no matter if she were to get upset by his doing so. He could see she was not happy, and he knew the reasons why.

“Fuineth,” he said at last, “You are my sister and I love you dearly. It pains me to see you so quiet and unlike yourself. I cannot bear it.”

She sighed, “Please, Túveren. I assure you all is well. I am sorry if you feel I am different somehow, but truly I am not.”

Túveren just shook his head and said quietly, “I am not so sure, sister. I know you may not wish to hear me, but I must say something to you if you will allow me.” He held out his hand to her and she took it. “Fuineth? May I have your promise that you will let me speak? You have my word we shall never talk of it again if you do not wish.”

She nodded, “If it will give you peace, then yes, brother, though I can guess what you wish to discuss and I do not relish it.”

“Thank you, Fuineth.”

There was a silence as he searched for how best to begin and decided it was better to come straight to the point. “I know that you have feelings for Lord Legolas. I understand, really I do, Fuineth. It is difficult for any elf to accept that men die, and the pain is all the greater when the parting is so permanent as it is between men and elves. Our lives are so short in their eyes. To have such a feeling, to share that with someone and see it snuffed out in a moment (for it is exactly that to them): it is hard, too hard often, for elven kind to accept.”

She nodded, distress evident in her face, “Do not think I do not know this, Túveren. I consider it every day and my decision is based upon that knowledge: it is impossible.”

He responded, “No, not impossible, Fuineth, only difficult and painful. But only you can decide if you wish to walk that path.”

He paused, then, “I understand, Fuineth. Truly, I do. I have been there myself, and it is a pain I carry with me still.” She looked up at him sharply. “There is something I have never told you, nor would I now, but I feel it may help. Some years ago, before the war, I thought I was in love ... though now I am not so sure.”

Her eyes were now wide in surprise, and she was about to speak when he stopped her, “Let me finish. She was an elf.” Fuineth gasped. “I wanted us to get betrothed, but her family persuaded her against it and I never saw her again. Rightly, I dare say now. The point is I can understand what you are going through. You mustn’t feel you are alone in this.”

She clasped him round his neck, and murmured “Thank you” in his ear. Then she pulled away from him, looking up into his face as she held it in her hands, “Oh, Túveren. You should have told me.”

“It was not important. A mere dalliance.”

But she could see in his eyes it had meant more than that, or at least it had to him at the time. She asked gently, “Does Elsbeth know?”

He nodded. “Of course. It was hard for her to learn of it, but she understands. She knows I love her truly and more than my own life. And I do indeed.”

Fuineth nodded, “Of course you do. It is plain to anyone who sees you with her.”

Túveren looked at her, “Fuineth, about Lord Legolas...”

She laid a finger on his lips. “Don’t,” was all she said and he saw the tears in her eyes and said nothing more.

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A week later, it was with some excitement, but with more anxiety, that Fuineth received the news that the decision had been made that the Queen would accompany her brothers on their visit to Ithilien. They were to stay some weeks with the King coming to join them after a little while. Elladan and Elrohir needed to return home, but wanted to stay with the elves before they did so. More to the point, Fuineth was free to travel with the Queen now that her brother had finally set a date for his own marriage: the ceremony would take place a little over a week after she was due to return.

Fuineth was nervous, but determined: she would remain courteous and no more, no matter how much it would hurt her. It was ridiculous that she had felt so much for him in such a short space of time. He was beautiful, as all elves were, so it was natural she would find him attractive, but in truth they barely knew each other. They had shared an emotional experience and that was the reason, that and that alone, for the connection she had felt with him.

So she kept telling herself, over and over, on her way there.

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Their party consisted of the Queen and her brothers as well as the two servants of Elladan and Elrohir that had come with them from Rivendell. Lotheliel, one of Arwen’s ladies-in-waiting, had married just before they had left Minas Tirith and had now returned North to Rivendell with her new husband, so it was only Fuineth, Mirriel (a Rivendell elf) and Gwenneth (a Gondorian woman) who accompanied the Queen as ladies-in-waiting. There were also two squires from the Citadel in Minas Tirith who were leading the horses loaded with baggage. The entire party had been met on the borders by two elves of noble bearing sent to guide them through the trees to the halls. As they neared the halls of Lord Legolas, Elrohir was riding next to Fuineth singing a lengthy ballad about the Fall of Doriath.

Lord Legolas was there to greet his guests as they arrived. Fuineth felt her stomach tighten in nerves when she saw him. She could see the Galadhrim were here also, though only for a week or two, it transpired, before they needed to return to Lorien. They and Legolas were now busy greeting the Queen and her brothers and the guests were then led towards a large awning set up nearby in which cushions and food had been laid out.

As Fuineth dismounted she heard a voice behind her: “Lady Fuineth. Gíl síla erin lû e-govaded vín, hiril nín. It is a pleasure indeed to see you again so soon.”

She turned, and couldn’t help but smile a little more warmly than she had intended, “Mae govannen, hîr nín. I am pleased I can at last fulfil my promise to visit you.”

He bent to kiss her hand, and held her eyes for a moment as he did so, the grey-green irises twinkling with delight. “Please, come and take some refreshment after your journey. The horses will be dealt with and stabled, you need not worry.”

“I thank you, my lord.”

As they walked over to the awning, Lady Mirriel came forward to greet their host.

If Lord Legolas, as he kissed her hand, held it for much less a time than he had Lady Fuineth’s no-one noticed save Lady Fuineth herself. And it made her smile with pleasure, in spite of herself.

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The elvish realm in Ithilien was a gentle place. Full of laughter and song, it had a beauty that only elves could have achieved especially given the short space of time they had been there. There were several large buildings that provided a hall and meeting places as well as lodgings and guest quarters. There were also a considerable number of talans in the surrounding trees. Many of the elves preferred to live here, but there were not the great number of large trees that there were, for example, in Lorien so some slept in tents and awnings on the ground instead or else in the halls.

On the evening of their arrival there was a small banquet held amongst the buildings in the glade where they were residing. Fuineth was delighted to be amongst elves once more and she spent much of the evening in deep conversation. She knew her Sindarin would improve once again with a little practice now she was completely surrounded by it as it always had done whenever she had stayed in Rivendell, and she was determined to use this opportunity to the fullest to try and improve her elvish. After some time, though, she felt herself growing tired and her head foggy with the effort of talking in another language. She excused herself from the group she was sitting with saying she wished to take some air.

She went out of the hall and, deciding to walk a little too, she made her way past trees, a few buildings, tents and awnings, and the bottom rungs of stairs and rope ladders leading up to flets in the canopy above, until she reached a small clearing with a stream running through it. She delighted in the moonlight, the night air, and the sound of elvish singing from the revelries she had left behind for a few moments. It was not too cold tonight. Spring was drawing nearer, though not for a month or so yet, but here in the South it was milder certainly that it would be in Arnor, or even Rohan, at this time of year.

She sat at the edge of the stream, hugging her knees with one hand and trailing the other in the water, relishing the cool tickle of it on her fingers. She could still hear the singing, not that far away, sailing out to her over the night air. It was in Quenya, so she did not understand it, but she closed her eyes, let her head sink sideways on to her knees and let the song surround her and take her to places she had never dreamt of.

How long she stayed like that she did not know, but she gradually had the feeling of not being alone. She raised her head, slowly, allowing herself to come back to reality. She turned. A tall, blond figure stepped forwards from the trees.

“Forgive me, Lady Fuineth. I have no desire to intrude. You left the banquet and when you did not return after some little time I thought I would come and find you, as I wished to take some air, and see that all was well.”

“My lord Legolas, you are most welcome. I too was taking some air. Rest assured I am quite well. Forgive me if I stayed too long away. I was listening to the singing and forgot myself. I had not realised I had been here so long.”

He smiled, “Do not worry, my lady. You have not been gone so long your absence will be noted.”

She returned his smile as she replied, “You noticed, my lord.”

She immediately regretted it, thinking she had said too much, and turned her face away towards the stream.

He did not answer but he smiled, though she did not see it.

She stood, attempting to sound matter-of-fact, “You are right, my lord. I intended to step out only for a few moments to get some air, and now I have done so. I should return.” He nodded, though still remained silent.

Then as she made her way past him he quietly spoke, “Lady Fuineth ...”

She stopped level with him but he did not turn to her. “My lord?”

His voice was still quiet, betraying no emotion at all as he spoke slowly: “I am glad to see you. Indeed I am glad also to see you sooner than I had imagined. I had feared it would be too long before next we met. It pleases me greatly that I can finally offer you the hospitality I promised you before.”

There fell a silence between them while she stood in amaze, her determination to stay aloof crumbling round her as she looked at his form, half-turned away from her, gleaming in the moonlight, and with the gentle song of the water and of the elves in her ears.

“I thank you, my lord. I am grateful for your hospitality, and I have been made to feel most welcome here. I..” she hesitated and then continued, her voice soft with warmth, “I too am glad to see you. Truly.” She could see him smiling.

“Good. I am glad. You had best go in, my lady, I shall join the company presently.”

“Very good, my lord.”

When she reached the edge of the glade, quickly glancing behind her, she saw that he had not moved, nor turned, but was gazing up at the stars, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, just as she had been when he had found her.

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After that, things seemed to warm a little between them though Fuineth still worried that she could not trust her feelings to not show themselves. If ever they caught each others’ eye they would smile and nod rather than turn their eyes away quickly as they had at first. They did not have much opportunity to speak but now and then they would find themselves in a group together with others. Fuineth was still a little shy of her Sindarin, but she listened intently enough and laughed and smiled showing that she clearly understood what was talked of round her.

On one such occasion, two days after they had arrived, she heard a voice beside her, “My lady, your Sindarin is improving, I warrant.”

She turned, smiling in gratitude, “You are too kind, Lord Legolas. If truth be told it always gets little better when I am in elvish company and hear nearly nothing else around me.”

He nodded. There was a silence while they held each others’ gaze and felt the old emotions stir. She coloured and turned her head away.

“My lady Fuineth, perhaps you would do me the honour of walking with me this evening? I may show you some of the sights of the my halls, perhaps?” She looked back towards him now, though not daring to look at him directly, and he could see the indecision in her face. “Not if you do not wish to, my lady,” he added, gently.

For a moment she did not respond. Then she raised her gaze to his and smiled. “Of course, my lord. Indeed, that would please me much, my lord, I thank you.”

He nodded, returning her smile and with a “Very well. I have things to attend to at present, so till this evening then, my lady,” he bowed and left.

Fuineth could barely eat anything at the evening meal despite the insistence of the elves sat around her. Occasionally she would look up and see him watching her every now and then from the other end of the table. She was not sure if she felt anxiety or delight in knowing they would walk together once more and alone.

Once the meal was finished, everyone broke off into groups and some left to go into various rooms or under awnings to drink a little, sing and make merry. The Queen, joining her brothers under an awning, gave her ladies-in-waiting leave to stay or go as they so wished.

As Fuineth turned she felt a hand upon her arm. “My lady? If you are free, perhaps you would care to take that walk?”

She smiled graciously, “But of course, my lord.”

Legolas led her slowly through the trees occasionally pointing out this or that thing of note. It was but idle chit-chat, a way to fill the silence, and Fuineth responded dutifully but not at any length. He could feel the warmth of her walking next to him, and she found him sometimes catching her eye and smiling.

At last they reached a clearing, a little further upstream from the one in which they had met that first night, and this had a bank that screened the entrance to the clearing and below which was a seat, carved in ornate fashion, that was positioned by the water’s edge. Legolas gestured to it.

“My lady?”

She smiled and sat down and he came to sit beside her.

For a while they did not speak, and then Legolas began, “I love this spot. Here the water rushes over the stones in such a way as to make the sweetest music. There are often songbirds nesting in the bushes over there,” he indicated across the stream, “and in spring I enjoy simply sitting here listening to their song and the music of the water.”

She smiled at the thought of him sitting here alone, at one with his surroundings like so many of his kind, “Then I am honoured you have brought me to share it with you, my lord.”

“It is a place dear to my heart.”

She nodded, “I can understand why. I do find it beautiful here in Ithilien, I must confess. Is it much like Eryn Lasgalen?”

He smiled, “A little. Though Eryn Lasgalen is much older. You can feel it as you walk through it, though even it is not as old as Fangorn Forest. That is an ancient place indeed.”

They lapsed into silence once more, each lost in their own thoughts for a while. Then: “Lady Fuineth?”

“My lord?”

“I... I have wanted to talk to you, indeed have looked to it, ever since I knew of your coming to visit us here.”

She stiffened slightly, her nerves betraying her now. He looked at her and could see the skin around her eyes had tightened slightly. Then she spoke. “I confess, Lord Legolas, I was a little nervous in coming here.”

His smile was now tempered by the furrow upon his brow, “Indeed, my lady? How so?”

She flushed slightly, not able to turn to meet his gaze and her glance fell to her lap, “I was not sure if you would wish me here, my lord.”

His face changed from incomprehension to concern and not a little hurt, “Lady Fuineth, why would you think such a thing?”

She felt very foolish now and wished she had not said it. It was clear she had only succeeded in offending him. “Forgive me, my lord. It was simply because you said to me when last we saw each other it might be best if we spent some time apart. I thought perhaps to have me here unlooked for... I thought.. I feared that perhaps it might have been too soon after what we had agreed.”

He was smiling now, though she would have seen the sadness in his eyes if she had looked, “My lady, forgive me for having said something that made you ill at ease in coming here. Truly it hurts me that I did so.” He sighed and continued, “It is about that conversation in Minas Tirith on the day I left that I wished to speak to you.”

She was still staring intently at her hands, clasped tightly together as they were in her lap. He could see the tension in her posture, her shoulders. “My lady, if you do not wish me to speak of it then tell me so. We shall return to the hall, or else walk some more.” She shook her head, so he ventured to continue, “It has troubled me ever since that day, and I have longed for an opportunity to tell you so. Indeed what you have said to me only proves my concerns were well-founded.”

Her posture had relaxed a little, her head dropped somewhat as she listened to him, and her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “My lord, you asked for my forgiveness and you have it, gladly, though in truth there is nothing to forgive. You said something that day that perhaps we both should have said to ourselves some time before then.”

He nodded. She understood, then. Of that he was glad. “I must confess, my lady, I did not intend to cause you any pain by what I said, and for that I am truly sorry. I am saddened to think I may have jeopardised our friendship, for indeed your companionship was most agreeable to me during my stay in the city, and I believed you felt the same, did you not?” She nodded, tears filling her eyes now, though she was refusing to let them fall.

His voice had dropped to a level that was even quieter still, “I said what I did since I thought it might be easier that way.” He hesitated, then, “Though, in truth, I have wondered every day since I left if that were indeed the case.”

She looked up at him slowly, surprise and wonder in her eyes.

He saw her expression and said under his breath, “So you have felt that too? Ai, my lady,” and with a groan he turned away.

He had suspected as much, indeed had known though he would not admit it: that she had felt the same as he. He had recognised the struggle he had seen within her that day he had left, had sensed the same bitterness at parting. But here, here was the proof if it were needed: that she had been tormented by their decision since then just as he had been.

Her voice broke through his thoughts, “My lord? Is something the matter?”

He shook his head, “Not at all, Lady Fuineth.” He composed himself and turned back to her. He looked into her eyes, and could see the depth of feeling there but also a sadness and determination that were all too familiar from his own thoughts these last few weeks: no matter what they felt they would not give in to it.

He smiled, “Forgive me, I forgot myself for a moment. It seems fate had other plans for us than that which we had thought, my lady, and I cannot say I am unhappy at your being here. I value your friendship and I hope I may entertain the thought that it will ever be mine?”

He could see her eyes smiling. “Of course, my lord. And I hope I may presume the same of you?”

“But of course, Lady Fuineth.” And he took her hand and kissed it.

Fuineth was happy that they both seemed to agree that their friendship was too good to be lost. They sat there for a while, side by side, listening to the water run over the stones in front of them.

Fuineth murmured, “It is indeed beautiful here. I am thankful to you, my lord, for showing it to me.”

He smiled, “It has given me pleasure sharing it with you and to know that you have been here will only make it dearer to me.”

He could not stop himself from saying it, though a voice inside his head cursed himself for having done so. She flushed a little, smiled and said nothing, though her heart beat a little faster at his words.

At last he bade her rise since there was more he would show her and they walked some more till he returned her to the chambers she was using within the halls and they retired.

That night Legolas cast his mind back over their talk and his brow grew furrowed as he did so. He was delighted to see her once more but at the same time concerned, not only at his feelings, but that he could see them reciprocated in her.

He too had spent the last few weeks of their separation thinking of her and the time they had spent together. He had not been able to erase the image he had of her, seated at the window in obvious distress, as he had last seen her before he had left. It had haunted him. That image and another: Lady Fuineth in her green dress, elven circlet on her brow gleaming in the moonlight, standing against the balustrade of the balcony gazing at the city below.

Just like her, he had felt his feelings not abating but growing all the stronger in their separation. He was at a loss, and felt himself drowning. It was beyond anything he had experienced before. He raged against himself, and yet could not deny the pleasure the thought of her gave him, let alone to now have her here and to be able to enjoy her company once again.

He sighed and shook his head. He knew he would have to be very careful in how he behaved while she was here, and he had made a slip already as they had sat on the bench together earlier that evening. He valued her friendship and he did not wish to lose that but it could never be anything more than that. He would not even contemplate it. It was an absolute impossibility.

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gíl síla erin lû e-govaded vín, hiril nín. = a star shines upon our meeting, my lady

mae govannen, hir nin = well met, my lord

le hannon = I thank thee


Chapter 13 - Denial

Chapter 12 ~ Denial



The next day they walked together a little while once more, and the next also, and it quickly became a daily ritual: to meet and walk just as they had done in Minas Tirith. She learned much from him about Ithilien and saw nearly all there was to see in the immediate vicinity of the halls.

Their slight coolness with each other after she had first arrived seemed forgotten and they managed to convince themselves that they were once more just as they had been when they had first stood together and looked out across the Pelennor: friends, enjoying one another’s company, and that was all.

The Queen had made it clear that, other than some basic duties, her ladies-in-waiting were free to do as they pleased much of the time while they were in Ithilien. Elvish formality was far less than that of the court of Minas Tirith, and besides she was amongst her own kind and far more relaxed than in the Citadel. As a consequence, Fuineth had the time to take Dunnwair, her brown mare, for a ride each morning. She never strayed far, as much as anything since she did not know the area, but she had discovered a large expanse of grass nearby and she would let Dunnwair canter up and down there for a bit at least to stretch her legs a little.

About five days after their arrival, as she was saddling Dunnwair for her morning ride, she heard the soft thud of hooves as a horse was brought out of one of the stables. She looked over Dunnwair’s back and saw, on the opposite side of the yard, a horse following a tall blond elf dressed in simple riding greens and greys. The elf looked at her, smiled and crossed the yard towards her, the horse following behind him.

“Lady Fuineth. I hoped I might find you here. I have the morning free. Would you mind if I joined you on your ride?”

She smiled at him as she finished tightening the last buckle, “Not at all, Lord Legolas. You are most welcome to join me. I do not go far, not knowing the countryside hereabouts, obviously. There is a patch of open ground about a mile south of here that I use to let my mare have some exercise.”

He nodded, “I know the spot. Well, I think, if you will allow, I can provide a more entertaining ride than that. It will be a good opportunity for me to show something more of Ithilien.”

Her smile warmed a little more, “I would like that very much, my lord. I thank you.”

She climbed into the saddle, and turned Dunnwair so she was parallel to Legolas who was already astride Arod. Lord Legolas flashed her a smile, murmured a word to his steed and they moved forward and into the trees.

After some time Legolas had led them to more open country that was hilly in parts. Early spring flowers were beginning to open in the more sheltered areas, and Fuineth appreciated the change of scene very much.

They had not gone above a walking pace so far, but now Lord Legolas turned to her with a grin and asked, “Would you care for a change of speed, my lady?”

She laughed, “Why not, my lord? The horses would appreciate it I am sure.”

With a word from his rider Arod sprang forward and Fuineth spurred Dunnwair into a canter and then a gallop. Lord Legolas already had quite a lead on her, and added to which she did not know the country, so she was content to follow. She could sense Dunnwair had more in her, though, and as they neared some higher ground she urged her forward. The mare struck out, quickly catching up with Arod. Lord Legolas turned, slowing Arod to a trot, to start round the base of a hill rather than up its’ steep incline, and Fuineth followed suit, now riding by his side once more.

He was laughing softly as he slowed the trot to a walk and she looked quizzically at him. He caught her questioning gaze and explained, “Your mare is fast.”

She smiled, “Yes indeed, my lord.”

He nodded, “She has the build for speed, but that was an impressive burst she put on just then.”

Fuineth grinned, “Thank you, my lord.”

Just then they rounded a turn between some trees and bushes and Fuineth gasped. They were in a meadow that in spring and summer she could imagine full of flowers, birds and butterflies. It led down to the riverbank where the Anduin meandered slowly past them. Willows hung over into it, trailing their long arms into the water.

“But it is beautiful, my lord, I had no idea we were so close to the river.”

Legolas smiled, and stopped Arod close to the bank. He got down from his horse. Fuineth had slowed and halted Dunnwair near to them but she did not dismount immediately and sat enraptured by the beauty of the scene in which she found herself.

Legolas came over to her and stood beside her gently patting the horse’s neck. “She is a beautiful animal. She is the same you had in Rohan is she not?” Fuineth could not hide her astonishment and Legolas laughed to see it, “You are surprised I remember? How could I forget? Besides, we elves love our animals too much, especially horses, to let them easily be forgotten.”

She smiled, and got down from the animal.

“What is her name?” he asked.

“Dunnwair.”

He seemed puzzled, “’Wair’ for wind, I presume, but I do not know ‘dunn’.”

They were walking now towards the river’s edge and, once they reached it, they sat in the shade of a willow, looking West over the green-blue water.

“It is Rohirric, my lord, meaning a dark colour, dark brown. I suppose her name is equivalent to ‘a dark wind’ and it is apt indeed for she is fast.”

He nodded, “So I have seen.” Then he grinned, “A ‘dark wind’ for a ‘dark lady’, Lady Fuineth,” laying extra emphasis on her name as he said it.

She laughed in return, “I had never thought of it before, my lord, but yes, though one name is Rohirric and the other Sindarin. Your horse is from Rohan too, is he not, my lord?”

“Yes, a gift from King Eomer. I rode him through Rohan and into battle at Helm’s Deep and elsewhere. His name is Arod. He has stood by me in desperate times and yet willingly bears me still. He is a good friend.”

She laughed softly and he raised an eyebrow at her, though the eyes were smiling, “You laugh at me, my lady?”

“No, not at all, my lord, forgive me. It is simply I delight in hearing elves talk in such a way about their horses. I am half Rohirrim, do not forget, and the love of horses runs strong in me but, no matter how close I may feel I am with a horse, I could never hope to have the understanding that runs between an elf and his mount.”

He laughed in his turn, “True indeed, my lady. Well said.”

“I do not get much opportunity to ride in Minas Tirith. I do of course, but cannot go too far: no further than the Pelennor, in truth. It is not the same as in Rohan. There I could gallop for miles. I miss it sometimes. In Eriador too, of course.”

He smiled, “Then, my lady, if it pleases you, you must let me accompany you for a ride as often as we are able while you stay with us here. That way you can do that which you love, your horse will be well exercised, and I can show you Ithilien: what could be better?” He could see she was pleased with this idea.

“Thank you, my lord. You are too kind. I would enjoy that very much.”

Legolas too was pleased. It gave him the perfect opportunity to be able to enjoy her company innocently enough. He was glad. He looked at her, and considered the woman sat beside him, arms wrapped round her knees, staring out over the river. Her eyes were bright and her face had a rosy glow to it after their ride. In all their times together, other than in the dance, she had seemed at her most relaxed and most free when she had been galloping on her mare. Her Rohirric spirit broken free for a fleeting moment, he thought.

She, feeling his eyes upon her, turned her face to him and smiled. “Tell me something of Lothlorien, Lord Legolas. I would fain know what it is like there. My brother has never been and I feel too shy to ask the Galadhrim. I know you have been there, have you not?”

“Yes, my lady. Several times. They are my kin.”

She nodded, “And with the Fellowship too, is that not so?”

He smiled, “I think that is well known, my lady.”

“Would you mind to describe it to me a little?”

“Not at all, my lady.”

And so they chatted for a little while: Legolas describing to her the beauty of the Golden Wood and Galadriel while Fuineth listened, her head on her knees, watching him as he talked, till at last he stood and said, regretfully, that they should be getting back.

“I have guests to attend to, and you have duties for the Queen, I am sure.”

She nodded and smiled, “You are right, my lord, but thank you for bringing me here” She looked around her, “Truly it is lovely here. And thank you for telling me of Lorien. You have awoken in my heart a desire to see it. I hope maybe I shall one day.”

Legolas smiled. It pleased him more than he thought possible when she liked the places that were close to his heart.

Quickly they mounted the horses and returned to the halls, having one more race just for good measure on the way. More sure of the direction, Fuineth was able to push Dunnwair hard from the first, but she half suspected he had let her win. She told Legolas as much and they were laughing as they walked into the yard, raising not a few eyebrows from the elves tending the animals there.

Fuineth dismounted but before she could untie the saddle from Dunnwair’s back an elf moved over to do it for her. Legolas smiled, “They will deal with her, leave her. You have done your duty by her by giving her a good run. Come, let us get something to eat and drink, and see what the others have been up to in our absence.”

As they neared the halls, Fuineth excused herself to change out of her riding clothes, and she thanked Lord Legolas, sincerely, for their ride and their talk. He bowed, “You are very welcome, my lady. Thank you for your company. Promise me we will do this again as soon as we are able?”

She smiled and nodded, “Of course, Lord Legolas, of course.”

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So every day they met – whether for an evening stroll, or a morning ride – and had a few stolen moments alone together. She would talk of her mother and her few memories of her father while he would talk of his father’s halls in Eryn Lasgalen and his childhood there or else of places he had visited.

The bond between them grew stronger. The more they learnt about each other, the more it seemed they already knew each other and they wondered at this, but said nothing. They would not admit how they felt even to themselves, let alone to each other or anyone else.

Arwen could see the change in Fuineth, who seemed so much happier and brighter than she had been, and she was pleased for her sake and it was clear to most of the elves that knew him well that Legolas too had feelings for Fuineth but they knew better than to broach the subject.

Only Haldir had tried. Once.

It had been a little over a week after Fuineth had arrived, and Orophin and Haldir were with Legolas on his talan discussing this and that, sharing some wine, and swopping stories. At one point Elladan had arrived, saying he needed Orophin to settle something he and Rúmil were in contention over, and Haldir and Legolas were left alone.

They were silent for a moment, Legolas standing gazing out over the trees, while Haldir was lounging back in a chair sipping his wine.

“Legolas?”

“Hmmm?”

“Would you mind if I spoke to you about something?”

Legolas turned to look at him, “Why? What is it?”

“Well.. you must promise me not to get angry.”

Legolas raised his eyebrows, “Why would I get angry?”

“Just promise me..”

Legolas opened his mouth, shut it again, then realised what Haldir was possibly talking about. His eyes began to narrow.

“Do I have your word?”

“Possibly...” Legolas said warily.

Haldir paused, regarding his friend seriously for a moment, and took another sip of his wine. “Legolas... I am your friend, one who loves you. If you wish to ever talk... about Lady Fuineth ..”

He got no further. Legolas’s face had turned black in shock and anger. Haldir murmured, “Forgive. I meant no harm, Legolas, believe me,” and left hurriedly.

Legolas had been shocked, though. Rúmil had guessed in Minas Tirith, and possibly had told his brother, in fact knowing Rúmil would have definitely told his brother, but it would have taken a lot for Haldir to then mention it to Legolas as Legolas well knew. Was he really that obvious? Was it that clear to everyone?

He sighed, head in his hands, utterly lost. He so wanted to act upon this. It was not impossible, and yet it was unthinkable.

His mind wandered to images of her: laughing, dancing, riding with the wind in her hair, and his heart moved and he groaned. Ai Elbereth, what was he to do? The more time he spent with her, the more his feelings for her were becoming clear to him. The best thing would be for him to not see her, or not so often, but he couldn’t help himself: the thought of not seeing her hurt him just as much as seeing her while knowing he could do nothing about how he felt. For so long he had never understood how elf and mortal could love each other. And now...

He sighed again, shook his head, drained his cup and climbed down to find the others, to go for a ride, to deal with his affairs: anything to simply keep his mind off it.

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Eight days after Arwen’s arrival her husband joined her. He arrived in the afternoon. A hunt and banquet had been arranged for the next day, after which the Galadhrim would leave while the King and his Queen, as well as her brothers, would stay on for another week or two.

Legolas was pleased to see Aragorn, and he Legolas. After the meal that night Legolas and Aragorn retired to Legolas’s talan together. Legolas poured some wine and handed it to Aragorn who was leaning back on some cushions.

They talked a little while of this and that, and then Aragorn paused a little, studying his friend’s face as he sipped his wine.

Legolas looked at him, “What is it?”

Aragorn shook his head, “I do not know that I dare speak to you of it, my friend.” Legolas looked puzzled. Aragorn continued, “Haldir has tried, so he tells me, and got black looks for his trouble.”

Legolas took a sharp intake of breath over his teeth. “I see,” he said coldly and turned his back to look out at the stars.

There was a pause while Aragorn drank some more wine, regarding his friend with a sad smile. Then he put down his cup and came to stand next to him. The elf looked out into the night while the King watched him. At last he spoke, “Do not get angry, Legolas. We are your friends, and you are dear to us. We do not like to see you like this.”

Legolas said nothing and Aragorn could see his jaw tight, the muscle clenching in his cheek.

Aragorn nodded, “I know what you are going through. I went through it myself. Arwen also.” There was barely a movement from Legolas, but his face was immediately less tense: he was listening. “You know better than I, my friend, what the consequences may be. And it would be hard. Hard to lose someone dear to you so soon as it would seem to you .. as one day Arwen will have to do...” He broke off.

Legolas turned to him now and could see the tears in Aragorn’s eyes as he in his turn now stared ahead into the night sky.

Legolas did not speak, but left his friend to his own thoughts. A shift and slight clearing of the throat told him Aragorn had composed himself and the elf then said softly, “Do you think I do not know this? Why else am I refraining from even admitting to myself how I feel about her. Better to have pain now, than to bear what I would have to face later. I do not think my heart could cope.”

Aragorn nodded. “I understand. Truly. But, in truth, I have never seen you so moved by someone before, my friend. I have never seen you smile the way you do when you are with her. I could see that even tonight whenever you looked at her. Arwen has seen it too while she has been here. Seen it in you both,” Legolas looked at him sharply as he said this but Aragorn continued, “..even in Osgiliath.”

Legolas’s brow furrowed, “Osgiliath?”

“The way you spoke of each other. It was clear even then.”

Legolas looked stunned, as if this had not occurred to him before. He slowly looked away from Aragorn turning it over in his mind. Then he slowly nodded, “You are right, Estel. I think even then I knew. It moved me even in Helm’s Deep to see her. And I thought about her often in those two years before I saw her again.” He shook his head, tears in his eyes now, and murmured, “Ai.. ai Elbereth..” and he groaned, his head falling forward onto one hand.

Aragorn looked at him, his face filled with concern and understanding. He spoke gently, his hand on Legolas’s shoulder, “Nothing is insurmountable. Only you can decide which is the greater sacrifice: to have that love, no matter its brevity; or to never know it at all.”

Legolas had looked at him in surprise when Aragorn had used the word, ‘love’. Aragorn laughed softly. “Well that is what it is, is it not?” and then, seeing the astonishment on Legolas’s face, he shook his head and smiling he added, “Ai, Legolas, will you not even admit that much to yourself?”

There was a slight smile then on Legolas’s lips, and he turned to face his friend. “I thank you, Aragorn. It has helped a little to talk with someone who knows something of what I face ahead of me.”

Aragorn nodded, “Not at all, my friend. Not at all.” He turned, “Come, let us charge our cups and talk of other things. Tell me about tomorrow’s hunt and the dance. I am looking forward to it.”

So they talked of anything but that.

Legolas felt eased in his heart by their talk somehow. Less lost, less adrift. He saw clearly the choices he must face, and now had only to decide on which path he would take.

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Author’s note: I know it may seem cheesey, but the ‘dark wind’ and ‘dark lady’ names connection only occurred to me as I wrote this chapter (long after the names were chosen) and it is appropriate that an elf, skilled in languages, would pick up on the connection and make a joke about it, or comment on it. Added to which -dunn is ‘dark’ or ‘dark brown’ (and she is a brown horse - and, no, I don’t mean ‘chestnut’ *grin*), whereas fuin- means the ‘night’, ‘darkness of nightfall’, so they are two different things.


Chapter 14 - The Hunt

Chapter 12 ~ The Hunt


Fuineth had attended one or two hunts in Rivendell and, growing up in Rohan, was a skilled horsewoman and so was looking forward to this immensely. As the guests gathered outside the halls with their horses Fuineth immediately noticed Lord Faramir was here as well as some of his men and that pleased her. She was glad that things were well enough between the elf and man that one could visit the other as friends once more.

She was already mounted when Lord Legolas, in simple dress and his bow and quiver slung over his shoulders, came over to her and stood beside her gently patting Dunnwair’s neck.

“She will get a good run today, my lady.”

“Yes indeed, my lord, and Arod also.”

He smiled, then noticed she had no bow or quiver. “You do not have a bow with you, my lady?”

She laughed softly and a little shyly. “My lord, I am a terrible shot. I fear I would be more of a danger to my fellow riders than the hart were I to try and bring it down. That would even be the case were I stood still upon the ground and not riding on a horse.”

Legolas laughed out loud. “Well, my lady, if that is the case, you are right to leave the shooting to us archers.” She grinned.

Elrohir had joined them, and bowed towards Fuineth. “My lady. You are looking forward to the hunt?”

“Yes indeed, my lord Elrohir, very much. It is some time since I last joined one. Last year in Rivendell I think it must have been.”

Elrohir smiled, “Yes I too am looking forward to this.” He turned to Legolas. “It makes a change, does it not, after so many years when we did not have the time to spare for such enjoyments?”

Legolas smiled broadly, “Yes indeed, my friend. Yes indeed.”

Shouts and cries indicated the hounds had arrived, six in all. They were fine beasts, nearly half the height of some of the horses, and trained to sniff out, not butcher. They would lead the riders on the chase, but it was the elves themselves that would kill the hart if they could: and if not they with their skill with bow and eyesight sharp, then who indeed? Then there would be a great feast tonight and dancing.

Legolas and Elrohir bowed to Fuineth and nimbly mounted their steeds.

A horn was blown, and so it began.

Much of it was leisurely at first: walking or trotting through the forest waiting for the hounds to pick up a scent. After a mile or so the hounds started to bay and the pace quickened. Dunnwair was fast but used to more open country and Fuineth sometimes lost sight of the main group of riders amongst the trees.

As they neared their goal, everyone spread out slightly. Each elf, bow now in hand, was hoping for the opportunity to be the one to bring down the deer that would be their meal this night.

The hunt moved on to a countryside where the trees were more sparse and Fuineth found that the main riders were now some way ahead of her and to her left within the eaves of the forest but she was simply enjoying being able to ride, hard and fast, over a long distance for once. It thrilled her to feel the wind on her face, her horse striding underneath her, and the power and speed making her feel alive in a way like nothing else she knew.

All of a sudden Dunnwair tripped and fell forwards, throwing her rider far over her head so that Fuineth landed awkwardly on the ground.

Legolas, aware that she had become slightly separated from the main group, had been keeping an eye on her and saw Dunnwair stumble and Fuineth fall. Without a second thought he had shouted to Arod and the horse had wheeled and galloped off at speed towards her while Legolas kept his eye fixed upon the figure still lying prone upon the ground. He could feel his heart in his mouth, his pulse thumping against his temple, and it did not abate when, as he neared her at last, the figure finally began to move and stagger towards her horse.

For several minutes Fuineth could not move she was so badly winded. Then, gasping for breath, she managed to struggle to her feet and went over to Dunnwair, now standing near her, snorting quietly. She could see a nasty gash on the horse’s front right leg a hand’s span above her fetlock. Now she looked about her she could see what had caused the fall: a small hole in the ground with a rock just above it and blood covering the rock where it had caught the horse as she had stumbled forward. She attempted to stem the flow of blood with her hand, looking about her in desperation to find something she could use to stop it. Nothing but grass and trees, no large leafed plants or any herb that she recognised that she could use.

Even as she lifted up her skirts to reach her undershift, and tore a strip from the bottom, she heard the hooves behind her. She turned to see Arod, ridden at speed towards her.

“Lady Fuineth, are you alright?!” and there was a soft thud as he jumped off Arod’s back before the horse had even stopped moving. The concern was clear upon Legolas’s face, there was a tremor in his voice and he seemed to be breathing faster than usual. He came straight towards her as he spoke, half running, and held her by her arms looking into her face for any signs of pain or distress.

“I am fine, my lord, do not concern yourself. But Dunnwair is injured.”

She knelt to start tying the bandage onto Dunnwair’s leg and he bent with her, “Let me see.”

She indicated the wound and Legolas nodded. “Don’t put on the bandage just yet. I will find something to staunch the bleeding.”

She nodded, pressing her hand once more against the horse’s leg, all the time murmuring to her, comforting her, and reaching her other hand up to stroke Dunnwair’s nose.

Within a few minutes he had returned with some leaves and was holding his water sac. He crouched beside her and moved her hand away. He washed the wound and then laid his hand on it and muttered some words in elvish, then he tore and bruised the leaves slightly, forming a sort of compress, and pressed it against the cut. Dunnwair whinnied slightly and moved back – clearly it stung whatever it was. Legolas reached up with one hand to touch her neck, and spoke to her, calming her, and reassuring her that it would hurt only briefly, and that what he was doing would help her. Dunnwair stilled.

“Now we can bandage her,” said Legolas. He kept the leaves in place over the wound while Fuineth wrapped the strip of cloth around it.

At last they were finished, and she stood, stroking Dunnwair’s neck and talking to her softly. Legolas stood on Dunnwair’s other side and patted her. “She will heal quickly enough, won’t you girl? It was not so serious a cut.”

Fuineth nodded, “It could have been far worse,” and she then moved away to show him the rock stained with Dunnwair’s blood. “That’s what tripped her. She caught one foot in the hole and was cut as she fell against the rock. She is fortunate she didn’t break her leg.”

Legolas nodded, and then looked at Fuineth once more. “And you, my lady, are you sure you are unhurt? I saw you fall, and you did not get up immediately. That is why I left the hunt.”

She smiled at him now, “I was winded a little, that was all. I thank you for your concern, my lord. I am quite unharmed, if a little shaken perhaps. It is part of riding to fall, is it not? Although ..” she hesitated, laughing softly, and looked at him, her eyes smiling, “I don’t suppose elves do fall off their horses that often.”

He laughed quietly, as much in relief as anything else, “No indeed, not unless they have drunk too deeply from their cups and even then it is rare.” He caught her eye and said more softly, trying to reassure her that even an elf can fail, “I did fall when I was younger, as an elfling. Before you gain experience it is the way of things: by your mistakes you learn.” She nodded.

Legolas held out his water sac once more so that they might rinse the blood and leaf stains from their hands. He stood close to her and poured the water for her as she rubbed her hands together under its flow, and then she did the same for him.

As she did so, Fuineth gasped as a realisation hit her, “The hunt! I cannot hear them. They must be some way off by now. We shall never catch them.”

He smiled, “I have a pretty shrewd idea of the direction they were going. Besides, you might not hear them still, my lady, but I do.”

She grinned, “Well then, what are we waiting for?” Then she stopped. “But Dunnwair... I cannot ride her like this. I had best return my lord. You go; you can catch them and enjoy your ride.”

He shook his head, “No indeed, my lady. If you think I am going to let you ride back to my halls unescorted then you mistake me, truly you do.” He looked stern as he spoke but his eyes were gentle.

“But the hunt my lord, and you are the host...”

He shook his head, “You will not deter me in this. My mind is set. Once I decide upon a thing I will not be moved.”

She could well believe it. She had seen this side of him to some extent in Rohan, and her brother had told her much of his strength and power as a warrior.

She suddenly realised she was staring at him as he raised an eyebrow and looked at her questioningly.

“Well, my lady? Shall we go?”

She nodded, turned to Dunnwair and swiftly climbed up into the saddle once more.

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They turned their charges and headed back, side by side, towards the halls at a walking pace. After a few moments Fuineth spoke, “Thankyou, my lord. I am grateful.”

He smiled, “Not at all, my lady, it was nothing. Truly.”

“I am sorry you will miss the hunt.”

“Please, do not concern yourself. I have had a good ride, nonetheless, and my main concern is that you are safe and that your horse is not seriously injured.” He looked at her, his face serious, “Compared to that the hunt is not important.”

She felt his gaze intense upon her, but did not look up and merely nodded. They lapsed once more into silence.

After a little while Legolas spoke, “She was going at some speed when she tripped.”

“You could see me, my lord?”

“But of course. I saw you had got somewhat separated from the group, and watched to make sure you were following. That is how I saw you fall.”

Something in his voice made her look at him as he said the last few words, but his face betrayed nothing.

As they rode Legolas began to tell her of the country they were riding through, pointing out plants or features in the landscape around them. He told her their names in Westron and Sindarin, and she dutifully repeated them, allowing him to correct her pronunciation of the elvish if needs be.

After some little while she noticed Dunnwair was tiring. Her leg was clearly paining her. She pulled the reins and halted. Legolas continued on ahead till she called him, and he turned to see her dismounting from the saddle.

“My lady? Is anything amiss?” He rode back to her.

“Dunnwair is tiring. I can feel her stride is changed: she is limping and that leg is paining her. I should never have ridden her. She needs to rest a little, and then I shall walk her back.”

He nodded. “Very good, my lady, of course,” and he quickly jumped down from Arod’s back.

They led their horses to a small clearing on the edge of the trees and there let the horses graze a little. Fuineth sat on a piece of higher ground and surveyed the landscape, visible through the thinning trees, before her. She could hear Legolas murmuring and turned to see him once more crouched before Dunnwair, his hand on her leg, muttering words of healing. He stood, patted Dunnwair on the neck and said some words into her ear. The horse snorted and moved her head as if she understood what was said to her.

Legolas came to where Fuineth sat. She smiled, “Le hannon, hir nín.” He acknowledged her thanks, smiling, and sat next to her, his legs out in front of him and his hands supporting his weight behind him.

“The hobbits passed some leagues North of here on their way to Mordor,” he said suddenly.

“Really?”

He pointed, “About four leagues in that direction was where they were captured by the Lord Faramir.”

She nodded. The deeds of the Fellowship were well known as it was but her brother had also learnt much from both Aragorn and Legolas, indeed from the hobbits themselves while they stayed in Minas Tirith, that he in turn had related to his sister. “It is so strange to think how much the world has changed since those times.”

“Indeed, my lady.”

She was silent for a while, and then, “The end of much more than just the evil in the land, is that not so, my lord?”

He looked at her, sadness in his eyes, “Indeed. As much was said in Rivendell when the Council was held. Much will be lost, indeed is already lost, that was good and beautiful.”

She nodded, “It is for that reason the King and Queen may travel North before the summer, as I am sure you know.”

Legolas said nothing. He well knew that Elrond was planning to travel West in the autumn, and that Galadriel, Gandalf, Bilbo and Frodo, as well as many others, would go with him. Middle Earth was on the brink of something sad and irrevocable, indeed it had already begun, and he knew that one day he too would leave. Ever since he had heard that fateful scream from the sea, since his heart was moved in a way he had never imagined possible, that yearning had never left him just as the Lady Galadriel had said it never would.

Fuineth looked at him as he stared ahead and could see his eyes glistening with tears.

After a moment he shook his head, as if to drive away the melancholy.

“I think she will be rested enough, my lady. Perhaps we should continue?”

He stood and held out his hand for her to help her up, which she took with a smile and murmured thanks.

She walked over to Dunnwair and went to take hold of the reins to lead her when Legolas took hold of them instead.

“Let me, my lady. Arod has no bridle, nor does he need to be led. Let me lead her and you shall walk beside me.”

As those grey-green eyes looked into her own they were still bright from the tears that had been there just now, but there was something else there also. Something she could not quite describe, but it moved her even though she knew not why. It seemed a minute before either broke their gaze or moved, though it was but a few seconds, but something passed between them then that neither understood and yet it was something always hoped for.

She smiled her thanks and moved aside to let him lead Dunnwair. And so they walked, talking quietly from time to time or else silently enjoying each other’s presence without others around to disturb them, him leading the brown mare with Lady Fuineth by his side and Arod following behind them.

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When they finally arrived at the halls, many of those on the hunt had already returned. Elladan and Haldir came over to them as they came into view.

“There you are! We were about to send someone out to find you. What happened?”

Elladan was saying, “Last I saw of you, Legolas, you were turning your horse about and charging back the way we had come. What were you about?”

“Lady Fuineth fell; her horse was injured. We have had to walk back and also let her mare rest once.”

They looked at Fuineth, clearly concerned. “Are you injured, my lady?” asked Haldir.

“I thank you, I am quite unharmed. Dunnwair was cut in her fall, but it is not so serious. I am only sorry Lord Legolas missed the hunt on my account.”

Haldir, grinning, opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it on seeing the look Legolas flashed at him. A quip at Legolas’s expense in front of the lady concerned was, perhaps, not such a good idea.

An elf had come forward to take Dunnwair from Legolas while Fuineth had turned to start untacking her. The elf stopped her, saying kindly, “Please, my lady, take some refreshment. I can deal with this.”

Fuineth looked uncertainly at Legolas. She was tired after such a lengthy walk back, it was true, but she did not want to leave Dunnwair till she knew she was settled.

Legolas understood. “Come, my lady. We shall take her to the stables and have her wound tended to, and then I insist you take some refreshment.”

She smiled, relieved, and followed him as he led Dunnwair away. Haldir and Elladan watched them go, exchanged a glance, and then returned to the refreshment tent with huge grins on their faces.

It was already afternoon and the last of the hunters had returned. Orophin had brought the hart down and it was now being prepared and roasted for the feast that night. After Dunnwair was tended to Legolas led Fuineth back to the awning set up for the hunters to take some food and drink after their exertions. Arwen, Gwenneth and Lady Mirriel came up to them, concerned that she was well after what Haldir had told them. She assured them she was uninjured just a little tired. She was seated and fussed over and given food and drink, but all she wanted to do was retire to her chambers and rest a little.

Lord Legolas, now moving amongst his guests asking if the hunt had gone well, glanced at her now and then. He could see she was tired and was concerned she may have hurt herself more than she would admit.

Ai Elbereth, when he had seen her fall and then not move...

He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but he knew something had changed that day. In that moment when he had asked Arod to turn and gallop without a second thought in his head other than her and in the distress he had felt when she had not got up for those few long minutes, he had known. And it terrified him.


Chapter 15 - Feasting & Dancing

Chapter 14 ~ Feasting and Dancing



Fuineth was grateful when the Queen insisted she return to her chambers. She could feel her back beginning to ache a little and said as much to Lady Mirriel.

“I wonder if I might not have a bath? I am aching slightly from the fall and it might help. Otherwise I do not know I will be able to face the dance tonight.”

“Don’t say another word. I will arrange it,” said Mirriel. Fuineth opened her mouth to protest that she was perfectly capable, but Mirriel stopped her short. “You need to rest. I can see you are tired. Go sleep a little, and I will wake you in plenty of time to get ready. Let me arrange this for you, and get water and a tub sent to your chambers.”

Fuineth thanked her, relieved in truth that she didn’t have to deal with it all, and headed off to her chambers.

She had just arrived in her room when there was a knock on her door and Arwen entered.

“I wanted to make sure you were quite well, my dear. You seemed tired and both I and the King were worried you had hurt yourself more than you were admitting in the company.”

Fuineth smiled, “I am most grateful, your highness, but in truth you need not be concerned. It is not the first fall I have taken from a horse, nor will it be the last I dare say. I am tired, it is true, and my back aches a little where I landed, but no more than that.”

Arwen nodded, “I am glad Lord Legolas was able to help you and walk back with you.”

Fuineth nodded, and felt herself flushing slightly at the mention of him and turned away from the Queen’s gaze.

Arwen smiled at this and moved over to the window, standing there for a moment before turning back to her. “Fuineth? Come here a moment. I wish to talk to you.”

Fuineth looked up and saw the Queen holding out her hand to her and indicating a long seat against one wall nearby. “Of course, your highness,” and she came over to sit next to Arwen.

“Fuineth, I have noticed you seem happier now than you have been for some few weeks. It warms my heart to see it.”

Fuineth flushed once more and murmured that she was glad that her highness was pleased but was sure she did not know what she meant.

Arwen laughed softly, “Come now, Fuineth. Do you think I did not notice how quiet you became those last few weeks in Minas Tirith? Or how you are much more yourself now you are here?” She paused, “And I think I can guess the cause. It is Lord Legolas, is it not?”

Fuineth gasped and blushed furiously.

Arwen smiled, “My dear, it was clear even in Osgiliath. You both spoke with such tenderness and compassion one of the other, though I am convinced neither of you were even aware you were doing so. I am happy for you, truly I am. Lord Legolas is a fine and noble elf.”

Fuineth shook her head. She could feel the tears welling now and she was not sure she would be able to speak at first, but eventually she managed to say quietly, her voice shaking a little, “No matter what my feelings may or may not be it cannot be anything more than friendship, my Queen. There is little use in my pretending otherwise nor do I indeed.”

The Queen, still smiling, tilted her head to one side, “Really? Why not?”

Fuineth dropped her head and said quietly, “I am a mortal, your highness. Even if I could convince myself, I do not think Lord Legolas ever could,” and she could feel the tears were close to falling now.

Arwen muttered softly, “I would not be so sure of that.”

Fuineth was not sure if she had heard correctly and shot her a questioning look, but Arwen did not repeat her comment and her face gave no clue instead she continued calmly as if she had not said anything at all.

“He was most concerned by what happened today, my dear. He said as much to the King. I told you in Osgiliath, you may recall, that you have a place in his affections that I have not known him hold for many mortals.” She reached out and gently held Fuineth’s chin so she could look into her eyes. Her voice was filled with kindness and compassion as she spoke, “Perhaps you forget that I am an elf married to a mortal? I understand, Fuineth, more than many might, but do not say it is impossible. Am I not a proof against that?” Fuineth smiled, and the Queen, returning her smile, let Fuineth’s head drop once more.

She stood and moved towards the door, “Perhaps I have said too much, I do not know. Forgive me, Fuineth, if I have spoken out of turn. I was sorry to see you so sad at his leaving us, and am glad, truly, to see you brighten once more.”

Fuineth shook her head, “There is nothing to forgive, my Queen. I thank you for your kind words to me. Indeed, you are most generous and you have touched me deeply with your concern.”

Arwen smiled and moved back over to her and laid one hand upon her shoulder and stroked the other down her hair, “I know it is not easy, and I cannot tell you which way to chose. But know simply this: that no door is closed to you. There. It is said. I will leave you now and we shall speak of it no more, since I can see it distresses you.”

Arwen kissed Fuineth lightly on her brow and then left her for her own chambers leaving Fuineth wondering on her words.

As Fuineth lay back and relaxed in the warm water of her bath she could feel the ache in her back dissipate. She had landed hard and she knew she would have a bruise somewhere on her left side tomorrow.

She let her mind wander back through the day’s events and the Queen’s words; but she lingered longest on the image of Lord Legolas as he had arrived on Arod, galloping hard and fast, the anxiety clear in his features and tone of voice. He had clearly been really worried, she thought, really very worried and had hurried to her. She sighed, knowing she should not read too much into it nor look to hope. Even so it thrilled her a little to know he had been watching her at all to see her fall.

She shook her head. That was it. Enough was enough. She had to get a hold of herself. She got out and dried herself, scolding herself as she did so.

“Foolish.. unthinkable... absolutely unthinkable!”

So saying, she climbed into bed and dozed till Mirriel woke her.

---------------------------------------------------


Elves from all over Ithilien had been invited to the revelries that night, indeed many had arrived in time for the hunt earlier that day. As King Elessar, Queen Arwen, her brothers and her ladies-in-waiting entered the hall the place was full of people. While the King and Queen, Elladan and Elrohir moved off to their seats near the top of the table, Fuineth turned to find Lord Legolas walking towards her. He was dressed in a deep blue and the intricate gold embroidery on his tunic gleamed in the flickering torch light, as did his hair.

He smiled warmly, “My lady Fuineth, may I show you to your seat?”

She took his arm and she was placed near the head of the table, amongst the Galadhrim and she felt both honoured and embarrassed to be there, even though Mirriel and Gwenneth were also so placed. Her position near to him meant that throughout the feast she was very aware of Lord Legolas’s glances towards her, and by the end of the meal she felt flushed and giddy.

The meal itself was full of jokes, tales, laughter and song; the food was excellent and the wine even better. As it ended, and the guests began to rise, Lord Legolas excused himself and came over to Lady Fuineth.

“My lady? Will you accompany me outside? The dancing will take place in the glade beyond the halls.” She smiled and took his arm once more and let him lead her through the crowd.

The Galadhrim grinned and nudged each other. Aragorn exchanged a glance with his wife but Arwen merely smiled. Gwenneth grabbed Orophin.

“My lord, shall we accompany them? A group will attract less talk I feel.”

Orophin nodded and they quickly caught up with the pair who were oblivious to their presence and now murmuring quietly to each other as Legolas assured her she would be able to follow the steps to any dance she did not know.

The glade, itself quite a size, was lit with lights hung from the trees that encircled it. At one end minstrels were already playing and cushions, benches and rugs were spread all around the edge of the glade. Wine was served from a table to one side. Already many elves were there, seated or standing in small groups, chattering and drinking. The night itself was mild, and the stars shone bright in the sky above the glade.

As Legolas and Fuineth stepped into the large clearing she gasped. “My lord, it is beautiful.”

He smiled, pleased that she approved. “This is how we always have our dances here. In Eryn Lasgalen and Lorien too it is similar.”

She looked up at him, “But what if it rains?”

He just laughed, and said, “It will not.”

They moved over to join Aragorn, Arwen and Faramir who had already arrived while Orophin and Gwenneth followed.

Lord Faramir bowed and kissed Fuineth’s hand, “I am pleased to see you once more, Lady Fuineth.”

He clearly meant it, and she was touched, indeed her cheeks flushed a little. “I thank you, my lord. I too am pleased to see you here.” He nodded, both understanding what the other had meant, and they smiled kindly at each other.

Legolas turned to Fuineth and spoke quietly, “My lady, you will forgive me, I trust, but as host I must offer the first dance to the Queen.”

She smiled in surprise, “Lord Legolas, I would not expect anything less! There is nothing to apologise for.”

He could see she had not understood, and continued, “I hope you will reserve the *second* dance for me, however?”

She stood there, looking into his eyes, and saw, for the first time, his feelings written plainly on his face. She could feel her heart beating slightly faster and for a moment it was as if time had stood still. She could not hear the music or the chatter and laughter around her; she did not see those standing near her. She could only hear her heart thudding quietly against her breast and saw nothing but his eyes.

“My lady?”

His question broke her reverie. His tone was gentle, warm and quiet; his eyes were smiling. She smiled in her turn, never breaking away from his gaze, “Of course, my lord. You did not need to ask.”

She saw the skin around the eyes crinkle into a broader smile and the warmth in that gaze deepen further, if that was possible. He bent to kiss her hand, and she could feel her skin tingle at the touch of his lips upon it.

“You have my thanks, my lady,” he said, still holding her gaze with his. She nodded, still smiling.

At last he turned and asked Arwen for the first dance. As she watched them walk into the middle of the clearing, the music faded as the minstrels readied themselves to begin the first dancing tune and the chatter rose a level with excitement as slowly couples began to move forward and take their places.

Fuithen felt a hand upon her arm and turned to see Elladan smiling at her. “Lady Fuineth, may I have the honour?” and he led her out to join the rest.

Once the music for the first dance had stopped Elladan bowed and thanked her as Legolas approached.

“My lady?”

They smiled at each other, a little shyly it now seemed. They quickly took their places and Legolas held her hand.

As they moved in time to the minstrels’ tune she could feel his eyes upon her even when she was turned away, and every time she turned towards him there were those green eyes once more, holding her, drawing her nearer, encouraging the hope to build within her. Just as when they had first danced in Minas Tirith she was breathless at the end.

They had not spoken once in all the dance, merely moved, and touched, and gazed at each other but now Legolas was apologising once more, “As host, my lady, I must ...”

She nodded, “It is quite alright, my lord. I understand.” She smiled into his eyes once more, but before he could reply Rúmil appeared and asked for the next dance from her. As he led her away she looked back to see Legolas watching her, a smile on his face and those eyes bright with emotion.

Every two dances or so Legolas would dance with her and even when they weren’t dancing together he was watching her. She looked beautiful. The elven circlet was once more on her brow, the dress she wore, of a deep red, looked extraordinary against her pale skin and the dark hair falling down her back. Soon he had given one dance to all those he should, and they had three dances together one after the other.

They were laughing as the last one ended. “Another?” he was grinning at her now.

“Oh! My lord, please! I must get my breath. You go. I shall sit this one out.”

He shook his head, “No, I shall not dance while you do not. Come let us get a drink.”

He led her to some cushions and bade her sit while he went to fetch two cups of wine. He returned and sat next to her, reclining back slightly on the cushions.

He looked at her. “You dance well, my lady, and you need not have feared. You picked up the steps quickly as I told you you would.”

She smiled, “Thank you, my lord, but in truth I felt I was having difficulty following at times. I am sure Lord Elrohir must have thought me mad at times in our dance together.”

He laughed. “Well that is about the most difficult dance of any that will be had this evening, in truth, but I thought you managed very well. No one would have noticed if you made a wrong step here or there - I certainly did not - and now you know it you will dance it again perfectly later this evening, I am sure.”

She smiled at his compliment, before quietly saying, “You saw me, my lord? But you were busy dancing yourself, were you not?”

Her eyes glinting with mischief, he caught her look and laughed softly but said nothing and took a sip of wine.

A figure plonked himself by Legolas.

Rúmil.

Grinning.

“May I join you? Not disturbing you, am I?”

Thankfully Fuineth could not see the look Legolas shot him and she merely smiled graciously and said “Not at all, my lord. You are most welcome.”

“Enjoying the evening, my lady?” continued Rúmil, blithely ignoring Legolas.

“Very much, my lord, and you?”

“Not bad, not bad. Considering. Nothing could hold a candle to a Lothlorien dance, of course, but even so this is a fair dance indeed. Very fair.”

She could tell he was joking, of course, and said nothing but smiled broadly and waited instead for Legolas to laugh and respond in kind. Legolas heaved a weary sigh, “You will have to excuse lord Rúmil, my lady, who cannot appreciate culture if his life depended on it. He lacks both tact and good taste as he has clearly demonstrated just now.”

Legolas was giving Rúmil a firm look as he said this last phrase, but that just made Rúmil’s grin spread all the wider, “Indeed? Well, Lady Fuineth, there are one or two things you perhaps should now about Lord Legolas...”

He was cut off by another joining them. “Brother, you should be more courteous to your host. We are leaving in a few days after all. Would it kill you to be pleasant just for one night?” They laughed, even Rúmil.

“Well said,” said Legolas, “Rúmil you should take a lesson from your elders and betters such as Orophin here.”

Before Rúmil had time to respond to this the music faded once more and Legolas put his cup to one side and jumped to his feet. He held out both hands to Fuineth. “My lady? You will do me the honour, I trust?”

“But of course, my lord,” she smiled, “If you will excuse me my lord Rúmil? Lord Orophin?” They nodded towards her as she took Legolas’s hands and rose.

As the pair headed off into the throng of dancers Orophin nudged his brother sharply in the ribs and hissed, “You are too cruel, brother. Leave them. It is possible nothing will come of it, as well you know. Let them have this one night in peace at least.” Rúmil did have the good grace to look vaguely shamefaced at his brother’s words and drank deep from his cup.

The dance finished, Legolas took her to one side. “My lady, do you wish for another dance, or...” He hesitated.

“‘Or’, my lord?”

“Or would you care to come for a walk instead? It is a fine night and I fain would have some respite from the throng of people and the noise for a little while.” She smiled and he continued, “Besides, I want to talk with you. We have had little opportunity thus far this evening.”

He looked into her eyes as he said this and her smile only broadened as he did so. “If you are sure the host would not be missed, my lord, then nothing would give me greater pleasure. Of course I will walk with you.”

He grinned in delight, took her hand and walked backwards leading her away from the crowd towards the trees and the shadows underneath them. Once there he stopped, offered her his arm, and together, huddled close, they walked for a little while in silence as the noise of the music, laughter and enjoyment faded gradually behind them.

“It is a beautiful night, is it not, my lord?” she said, looking up at the stars that showed themselves between the branches.

“Indeed,” he agreed but he was not looking at the sky.

At last they reached a clearing and Fuineth recognised it as the same one she had been to that first night in Ithilien. She smiled.

Legolas led her down the slope towards the stream and then, stepping across its’ narrowest point, turned back to her with his hand so that she might cross also. She took it, and as their fingers met she felt goosebumps travel up her arm.

“You are cold, my lady?” She shook her head, feeling suddenly shy that he had noticed.

Once across the stream, where the land rose gently once more, he led her upwards on a barely discernable path to a spinny where he sat and invited her to join him. She could still see the glade and the stream, but they were screened from prying eyes or anyone who might enter the glade after them. She sat, arms about her knees, listening to the ripple and gurgle of the stream below them. Legolas was leaning back on one elbow, simply watching her in the stillness and moonlight.

At last she moved, turning her face to look behind her slightly so she could see him. “You wanted to talk, my lord? Well, here we are. What shall we talk about?” She smiled as she spoke and was greeted with one in return.

He sat up to sit next to her and looked out over the little clearing and the stream. “In truth, I do not know, my lady. I simply wished to be alone with you and enjoy your company in solitude a while. Forgive me if I have been overbold.” He turned to her, smiling, his eyes twinkling at her.

She laughed softly, “Not at all, my lord. I am glad you did.” Their eyes met and she flushed slightly.

He saw that bloom upon her cheek, the look in her eyes of warmth and something more. He was pleased, thrilled indeed though he fought hard against that emotion, and yet....

He sighed. Her expression changed to one of questioning, though she said nothing.

“Lady Fuineth,” he began, not sure quite how to broach what he wanted to tell her, not indeed sure that he should do so, “Lady Fuineth you gave me quite a fright today.” She smiled, but her brows were still knitted together with incomprehension. “Your fall,” he explained.

“Oh! I assure you, my lord, I am quite uninjured. As I told you I was winded a little, that was all.”

He nodded, “Yes, I realise now. But when I saw you fall... you did not move for quite some time...”

He looked up at her now, and she was spellbound by the look upon his face: a mixture of anxiety and relief as well as a fondness of such profundity that it made her catch her breath.

Legolas looked down for her hand, found it and took it in his own. He did not look up at her, but kept his gaze upon that small white hand now lying in his. “It made me realise what was important to me, my lady.”

She felt her breath stop.

In that moment, just as Legolas had discovered on their way back to the halls earlier that day, she knew what she felt for him. She admitted it to herself fully and for the first time and she felt a tear trail down her cheek before she could stop it. She turned her face away. The emotions were too strong, the feeling too great, for her to be able to bear looking at him, his beauty or the emotion she saw in his eyes.

He was talking softly once more, looking at her now, “Tell me, my lady, that you feel this too. I know you do. I have seen it in you.”

She could not speak, but she nodded and as she did so she turned to look at him, in hope but also in fear.

He saw the tear wet upon her cheek and lifted his hand to wipe it away. “Do not weep, my lady. I too have long battled against myself, but I needs must now admit what is in my heart.”

She could not take his eyes off his, filled as they were with a tenderness that nearly broke her.

He lifted the hand he held in his own and kissed it. “You understood full well why I said what I did in Minas Tirith that day. I know you did. You are a mortal and I an elf.”

She nodded, torn in her joy and despair, and she was able to gasp out, “I know, my lord. I have always known.”

He smiled sadly, “But despite that, my lady, I cannot help how I feel: how I delight in your presence, how I could watch you and never tire, how I wish for nothing to ever harm you.” He looked into her eyes once more and said, “Truly, Lady Fuineth, you are beautiful.”

She smiled. Smiled though she felt her heart about to break. “Oh, my lord... I have not the words. You have moved my heart greatly this night, though in truth it was moved before as you rightly guessed.” She paused, and he saw the doubt pass across her face before she continued, “But, my lord...”

He stopped her with a quiet “Shhh” and then lifted his hand to lay it against her cheek, and she pressed into his hand as if by so doing all the pain she felt could be wiped away. “Avo bedo,” he continued, “We both know what you would say. It cannot be and we know that. But let us have tonight. Indeed let us have this time in Ithilien while you are here. Let us at least acknowledge how we feel and enjoy these brief moments while we may. It may make the parting more painful but the memory will be that much sweeter.”

She had brought her other hand up to cover the one now upon her cheek, and she smiled, even as another tear fell. She took that hand, kissed it and Lord Legolas smiled in return and then pulled her hands for her to sit a little closer to him.

And so they sat in silence for a little while, side by side, hands entwined and her head resting against his shoulder.

At last Legolas stirred and, as she straightened to look at him, he turned to her and held his hand against her face once more, his thumb tracing a line down to her jaw. “Come, my lady. We had best return. It will not do for the host to be gone long from his own dance.”

She smiled, “No indeed, my lord.” He stood, offering his hand to her so she might rise.

As they walked back down to the stream, this time hand in hand, and crossed over it once more, she stopped. He turned to look at her and saw a smile upon her face. “My lady?”

She shook her head, her eyes glinting in the starlight, “Nothing, my lord, only...”

He raised an eyebrow quizzically, a smile playing on his lips.

She continued, “Only that I am glad we had this walk.”

He laughed softly and had to resist the urge to pull her into his arms. “Come, my lady, we must return,” was all he said, and she returned his laugh, followed his lead, and they made their way back through the trees once more to the dance.


avo bedo = do not speak


Chapter 16 - Dawn

Chapter 15 ~ Dawn


They entered the glade once more and stood on its’ edge watching as the couples turned and moved. As they did so Fuineth saw Lord Faramir was amongst them dancing with one of the Ithilien elves. She smiled.

“I am glad Lord Faramir is here.”

Legolas looked at her, his face serious, “So am I, Lady Fuineth. He understands what happened and was gracious enough to realise I was in no way responsible. He is a good friend and I love him no less for the anger he felt towards me. I can understand completely. But come, let us not talk of this here. Not tonight.” He smiled at her, his eyes now twinkling mischievously, “Not after our pleasant walk, my lady.”

She grinned, “No indeed.”

The music was dying once more and Legolas led her to the dance area. “No, tonight is ours, my lady. We shall dance and forget all else.”

They danced four dances together without stopping at the end of which Fuineth, laughing, cried for mercy, “I am still a little tired after today, my lord, nor do I have the boundless energy of the elves. I needs must rest a little.”

His face was concerned, “Forgive me, Lady Fuineth. I should have remembered. Are you in pain?”

She smiled softly, “No, my lord. Merely a little fatigued. Let us sit this next dance out and then I will be able to dance some more if you desire.” He nodded, smiling and led her to some cushions.

However, as she went to sit, she felt the movement aggravate the ache in her back once more and, gasping a little, she caught hold of Legolas’s arm to help herself down.

He crouched beside her. “My lady? Are you well?”

He was worried now. But she was smiling, insistent, “I assure you, my lord, it is nothing.”

He looked at her, into her eyes. “Do not dissemble with me, my lady, I will not allow you.” His tone was serious, if gentle.

She flushed, “I assure you, my lord, it is nothing, truly. I ache a little, if you insist, but that is hardly surprising considering I landed on my back. It will be bruised, no doubt, on the morrow, but nothing more.”

He nodded. “Forgive me for pressing you, but I did suspect you had hurt yourself a little more than you would admit to me before.” He smiled, taking her right hand in his and said softly, “I would prefer to know than not. Better to know it is nothing much, than to suspect you are keeping something from me and worry it is more serious.”

She smiled and nodded, “You are right. Forgive me, my lord.”

“Nothing to forgive, my lady.”

So saying, without thinking of what he was doing, he turned her hand and kissed her palm.

She gasped.

He looked at her, worried for a moment he had offended her, but she smiled, surprise in her eyes, and then laughed softly, holding his gaze. “You really must not worry on my account, my lord. I have been riding since I was a babe.”

“I am aware of that, my lady, but I cannot help myself, nor will you stop me doing so. Did I not tell you this afternoon that once I set my mind on something I will not be deterred?”

Her smile broadened but she said nothing.

They sat there, watching the dance, he still holding her hand, until at last they saw Aragorn coming towards them. Fuineth made to stand, but Aragorn waved her to remain seated. “Please, my lady, do not rise on my account. We are not in the Citadel this evening.” She smiled and thanked him.

Aragorn’s eyes flicked down to Legolas’s hand holding hers and back up just as quickly. “Am I disturbing you? May I join you?”

“Please, Aragorn, sit,” Legolas motioned to some cushions next to him. “Where is the Queen?”

“Dancing with Elrohir. I must congratulate you, Legolas, a splendid day’s entertainment, as ever.”

Legolas grinned, “Thankyou, my friend.” Legolas then noticed that none of them had drinks, “Aragorn, some wine? Lady Fuineth?” Before either of them could reply he was up and walking towards the wine table.

“It is a wonderful dance, is it not, my liege?”

“Indeed. I do so love to come and stay here in Ithilien. It is so different from Minas Tirith. In many ways it reminds me of Rivendell.”

Fuineth nodded, she could understand that. “I suppose it is the Dúnedain in me that loves elvish company so,” she murmured. Aragorn threw her a look, but she did not see it.

Legolas returned balancing three cups together. Aragorn took one and Legolas sat between him and Fuineth once more, handing a cup to Lady Fuineth as he did so. Aragorn spoke, “Lady Fuineth, I was telling Legolas something of your father today.”

Fuineth looked at Legolas in surprise – he had been discussing her family with Aragorn?

Legolas flushed a little, “Only in passing, Estel.”

“Eh? Oh, ah, yes. Just in passing.”

Aragorn shifted in his seat slightly, and Fuineth had to stop herself from laughing out loud since the two of them suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Indeed, your highness? And what were you telling him?”

“Oh, just recounting what I knew of him. Halbarad and Calloneb knew him better than I, as you well know, my lady.”

She nodded, “Yes. They and my father were very close. Túveren considers Calloneb near an uncle in many ways. He will be coming to his marriage, I believe.”

Aragorn nodded, “Quite so.”

Legolas saw an opportunity to change the subject and suddenly interjected, “Túveren is to marry soon, is he not?”

“Yes, my lord. A week or so after I return.”

Even as she said it, her and Legolas’s eyes met and a sadness flashed between them both. She faltered and said no more. Aragorn, sensing a sudden change of mood between them, was about to leave when Arwen and Elrohir joined them, smiling and breathless from the dance.

As Arwen sat Elrohir went to fetch wine for them both. The conversation quickly turned to other things. Elrohir joined them as did Orophin after a little while. Jokes and stories were told, and all the time Fuineth could feel Legolas beside her, turning to her and including her in all he said. For his part, Legolas could feel her eyes upon him every time he talked, and when she spoke he delighted in hearing her voice, her laughter and watching her suddenly become animated as she spoke even as she shyly joined in with their Sindarin exchanges.

After a little while he stood and asked her for a dance once more. She nodded and took his hand and they excused themselves from the others.

Watching them leave there was a murmur from those still seated. “Something’s happened between them, I can feel it,” Elrohir was saying.

Arwen turned on him, “Shh. You cannot know that, and even if it has it is not our business.”

Elrohir stuck his tongue out at his sister, “Don’t try and pretend you aren’t as fascinated by all this as the rest of us. Legolas finally smitten. And to a mortal too.”

Aragorn coughed, “Er.. I beg your pardon, Elrohir?”

Elrohir laughed, “Forgive me, Aragorn, but somehow you don’t count as a mortal.”

Arwen and Aragorn exchanged a look and then burst out laughing.

----------------------------------------------------------


As they walked to the dancing area Fuineth couldn’t help but laugh softly.

Legolas looked at her, “My lady?”

She looked sideways at him and her eyes were smiling with mischief, “So you were asking about me, were you?”

Legolas flushed, “Not exactly. It happened to come up in conversation.”

“Really?” She was still grinning.

Legolas sighed, “Forgive me, my lady, I was curious that was all. Besides you had spoken so much of your father, as has Túveren, that I wished to speak with someone who knew him as a peer.”

She nodded, “I understand. Really I do. I am teasing.” She grinned at him once more, “Your face, my lord, when King Elessar mentioned it is one I shall never forget. Indeed both of you once he had realised what he had said.”

Legolas’s cheeks went a darker shade of pink and he seemed to stiffen slightly.

She laughed softly and gently laid a hand upon his chest, “Come my lord. Please. Forgive me if I have upset you. I meant nothing by it, truly.”

He looked at her, her eyes twinkling with laughter, and saw she was teasing not angry. He smiled, and then began to laugh. “I shall have to be careful what I say in front of you, I can see that. To think you once thought I was serious and stern, yet now you feel free to tease me mercilessly?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed and took his hand, pulling him towards the dancers, “Come, my lord. Have your revenge and dance with me till I too tired to dance more.”

He grinned, “A challenge, my lady? Then I accept!”

Neither danced with anyone else that night. If either wished to rest then they refused offers of a dance from others, but came to sit, talk and drink with each other till they were ready to dance some more.

The music and laughter went on late into the night, and it was very nearly dawn when finally people began to retire. Then and only then did Legolas leave her side since he had to thank his guests and say farewell, but he would glance at her every now and then and they would exchange a smile.

At last he came back over to her and offered her his hand. “Lady Fuineth? Would you do me the honour of accompanying me? There is something I wish to show you if you will allow me.” She took his hand and rose, her curiosity piqued, but he responded only with an even broader smile to her questioning look.

Taking her hand he led her through the trees till they reached one with a thick trunk about which a staircase wound. Legolas started up the stairs, keeping her hand in his and she followed him up and up, round and round until she began to wonder if it would ever end. Then finally they reached a talan, broad and smooth, through which the stairs broached. As she stepped onto it she could feel the morning breeze in her lungs and on her face.

He led her round the trunk till they were facing East. Only now could she see how high up they were. Many of the trees were lower than they and she could see, in the gloom and grey of the pre-dawn, the forest stretched out below her. She gasped. Legolas sat down, his back against the trunk, and feeling him pull on her hand and murmur, “Havo dad, hiril nín,” she joined him.

Far in the distance the dark of the land was beginning to stand out against the first paler blue of the dawn. In silence they watched, his arm around her shoulder and his hand holding hers, as the lighter blue spread out from above the landscape and then the sky brightened, slowly, slowly, beginning to flush and with each minute the colour gradually seeping back into the forest below, till at last the sun’s first rays came over the mountains and hills in an orange haze.

She sat, moved beyond words for a moment and then whispered, “It is beautiful, my lord. Thank you.”

Legolas smiled.

She could feel her eyes closing, and her head sank sideways onto Legolas’s shoulder in spite of herself. It was only when she felt his hand upon her cheek and a quiet voice call her name that she started and sat up.

“Did I sleep?”

He nodded, smiling. “But only for a little while. Come, it is still early yet, I think I had better get you back to your chambers where you may rest more comfortably.”

She nodded, but as they started down the stairs once more she stopped, and he turned to see why she had pulled on his hand. He stepped back up to her, and stood in front of her, looking down into her grey eyes. She smiled back up at him.

“Le hannon, hir nín.”

And he shook his head, smiling, “No. ‘Hannaid’.”

She flushed, understanding full well the level of intimacy and informality this now meant between them, and then raised her gaze back to his, “Hannaid, hir nín.” He smiled, raised her hand to his lips and then led her back down the stairs and so to the halls.


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When she woke later that morning Fuineth lay there for some little while remembering the previous night, and it seemed almost a dream to her.

She wanted to see how Dunnwair was and as soon as she was dressed she went to the stables where she was housed. The horse moved to her as she entered her box, nuzzling against her shoulder. She laughed, talking softly to her and stroking her nose. Then she bent to examine the wound, undoing the bandage that was there.

The wound was clean and already beginning to close. Fuineth smiled. ‘The healing hands of elves, no doubt’ she thought.

As she rewrapped the bandage once more a voice behind her spoke. “Checking our handiwork, Lady Fuineth?”

She started, turning with a gasp, though smiling. “My lord! You startled me.”

“Forgive me, lady Fuineth. I saw you go to Dunnwair’s stables and thought I would come bid you good day.” He smiled. He was leaning on the bottom half of the stable door on his forearms, watching her finish tying the bandage. “Well? Is she healing?”

“Yes indeed, my lord. The wound is closing already. Not that I am surprised, but I still wished to check on her. I have had her many years now, and she is dear to me.”

“Of course, my lady, it is to be expected.”

He pushed open the door for her to pass through and bolted it shut behind her. They walked across the stable yard back towards the halls side by side. “If you wish to ride before she is well we have plenty of horses here you could use, Lady Fuineth.”

She smiled, “Thank you, but not today I do not think. Tomorrow perhaps.”

“Perhaps we could ride together, then? Shall I arrange it?” He was looking sideways at her now, the hope clear in his voice.

“Of course, my lord, please do. I shall look forward to it immensely.”

He smiled, “Good. Are you free to walk a little now, perhaps?” She nodded and took his arm.

They walked, talking quietly all the while, till they reached a willow beneath which was a bench. Legolas gestured for her to sit and she did so. She could feel her back aching – the main reason why she had refused to ride today – and Legolas, as he turned to speak, could see her wincing slightly, the skin tight about her eyes.

“My lady?”

She was about to insist it was nothing when, looking at the expression on his face, she remembered what he had said the previous night. She flushed a little and dropped her head, “My back is hurting me a little. That is all. I promise you it is nothing. It is to be expected after all.” He nodded, but his face was serious.

He hesitated and then said, “Would you allow me, my lady..?”

She glanced at him, puzzled, and then saw his hands slightly raised towards her and realised what he meant. She blushed. “My lord, I... really there is no need.”

He shook his head, “No, my lady. Either I do this or I insist someone else does.” He paused, then asked, “Anírach i dulu nín?”

She nodded, and very shyly and still blushing she turned her back to him.

“Show me,” he said gently and she bent her arm behind her to indicate her left and lower back and side. He nodded.

She tensed, moving her arm up and away so he could touch the right place, and when at last he touched her instinctively her eyes closed and she felt her stomach swim just from knowing his hands were on her. Then, as she heard him murmuring quietly behind her, she felt a warmth spread out from where his hands were placed upon her back to her entire body. Then his hands were lifted, but the warmth stayed and the pain she had felt just now was gone.

She turned back to him, astonishment on her face, “Thank you. Le ha..” and she corrected herself, “Hannaid, hir nín.”

He smiled, “You are welcome, my lady. Truly it is nothing.”

She could still feel her cheeks were blushing slightly, as much from how she had felt when he had initially put his hands on her, but she soon recovered herself as he started talking about something entirely different which put her at her ease.

He had noticed though. He had seen her shoulders stiffen in embarrassment at first but then felt her breathe in and sway very slightly when he had actually touched her. And he was trying hard not to think about it.

After a little time he stood, apologising but saying he had business to attend to and should see to his guests. She smiled, saying she would stay and enjoy the air for a while longer. He bent to kiss her hand, “Thank you for you company, my lady. As ever it has been a pleasure. I trust you are feeling a little better now?”

“Thank you, my lord, very much. I am most grateful.”

He nodded, “Îdh sí, hîril nín, and I will see you later. Navaer.”

“Navaer, Lord Legolas.”

His gaze met hers as they spoke and they smiled at one another. Legolas hesitated, not wanting to break his gaze or even leave her side, and only started to leave reluctantly and backing away at first till at last he turned to go. But even as he walked he threw a glance behind him to look at her and found her watching him and smiling. He saw her face, and the look upon it, sighed and smiled, and turned back once more for the halls.


havo dad = sit down

hiril nín = my lady

le hannon = I thank thee

hir nín = my lord

hannaid = thanks (i.e. informal)

Anírach i dulu nín? = Do you want my help?

îdh sí = rest here

navaer = farewell


Chapter 17 - Archery Contest

Chapter 16 – Archery Contest


The Galadhrim were due to leave in two days and there had been some talk of an archery contest while they were still here. Nothing had been formally organised, but as Fuineth, the Queen and the ladies-in-waiting sat under one of the awnings reading or doing their needlework later that same morning after the hunt and banquet, Elrohir came running up to them laughing.

“Ladies, you will be pleased to hear, perhaps, that there will be an archery contest after all. Tomorrow.”

They all looked at each other, surprised but delighted. Arwen was suspicious, “Why the sudden change of plan, Elrohir?”

Elrohir just grinned, “Come and you’ll find out.”

They laid down their books and sewing and followed him to one of the clearings near the halls. A small crowd of elves were there, as well as Aragorn, Faramir and Faramir’s stewards. In the middle of all this were Haldir, Legolas and one of Legolas’s stewards, Naril.

Haldir and Naril had clearly been arguing and were both flushed, eyes blazing at each other. Legolas was attempting to play peacemaker but was hampered in this by the smile on his face.

Arwen came up to Aragorn, “What is going on?”

Aragorn grinned, “Ah, well, the skill of both archers has been called into question by the other and honour must be satisfied.”

Arwen raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I see,” was all she said.

Fuineth could see various other elves who had overheard Haldir and Naril’s heated discussion were now getting pretty animated themselves about what had been said. Legolas gave up on his diplomatic skills and decided to just let them sort themselves out. As he looked up he noticed the women had joined them and he grinned in their direction. Then he spoke to the assembled group. “We will meet for the contest tomorrow just after the midday in the East Field.”

There were murmurs of excitement and Haldir and Naril exchanged a snarl and separated. Legolas came over to where Fuineth and the others were standing. He kissed Arwen’s hand, and then each of the ladies-in-waiting’s in turn ending with Fuineth. They exchanged a look but said nothing to each other more than murmured greetings.

As they all turned back towards the hall, chattering excitedly about the upcoming tournament, Fuineth touched Legolas’s arm. He turned and smiled on seeing it was her.

“Hîril nín.”

“Lord Legolas,” and she returned his smile. “Tell me,” she continued, “what has happened between Haldir and Naril?”

Legolas laughed softly, “Oh, they have never quite seen eye to eye and any elf is jealous of his skills with a bow but those two particularly so. I was not there when it began so I cannot say for certain who started it or what caused it, but I am not surprised. It has in large part been those two in particular who have been asking for a contest while the Galadhrim have been staying here, indeed Naril began insisting upon it ever since he knew they would be coming to the South. Ever since Haldir beat Naril last year in Lothlorien Naril has been looking for an opportunity for his revenge. I had refused till now only because I thought it would create more problems than it might solve, but if it will stop them being at each other’s throats, so be it.” He was grinning as he said all this, and clearly relishing the prospect of seeing the two battle it out.

“And what about you, my lord, will you take part?”

“Of course! Did I not say any elf is jealous of their skill with a bow? I include myself in that, my lady!” It was her turn to laugh.

He slowed his pace a little and leaned into her conspiratorially, “Will you be there to watch me, hîril nín? To cheer me on?”

She smiled sideways at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “Will not everyone be there? Where else would I be? It will be an event that no-one would miss.”

He raised an eyebrow with a grin, “You did not answer me, my lady.”

“I know,” she said, laughing, and, leaving Legolas shaking his head and smiling, she ran to join Arwen and the others as they made their way to the mid-day meal.

That afternoon and evening Fuineth spent her time in continuing to learn elvish embroidery techniques and designs from some of the Ithilien elf-maids and teaching them in turn Rohirric designs she knew. Then she made her way to the kitchens to see if she could help in any way and perhaps learn a new dish or two in the process.

That evening the general company repaired to a large talan near the main halls where there was wine, stories and song. Lord Faramir made a point of often talking to Lady Fuineth, as much as anything to make it clear there was no ill feeling on his part, and she was touched by his doing so. She had a suspicion one of his men, Anardor, might have taken a shine to her, however. He had asked her for two dances the previous night and had barely taken his eyes off her this evening. He took every opportunity to join in conversation with her and when they first arrived on the talan he came to sit near her. She was only vaguely aware of his doing all this, indeed she wasn’t even sure she wasn’t reading too much into it perhaps, but she had noticed Legolas, who sat next to her the entire evening, looking somewhat darkly at him a few times.

The moon was high in the sky when Fuineth excused herself from the company. She was tired. Gwenneth and Mirriel had left a little while before and Fuineth would have left with them except Legolas had persuaded her to stay.

“Just a little while longer, my lady,” he was now saying once more, but she shook her head and smiled.

“Really, I cannot, my lord. Forgive me. Perhaps you forget how late a night it was yesterday? If you wish to meet me for a ride tomorrow morning then I am afraid I must leave you.”

He smiled and nodded, “Of course, my lady. Let me escort you to your chambers then.” They stood, Legolas saying he would return to join his guests shortly. She took his arm and he led her down the stairs to the grass below.

As they walked back to the halls Legolas said, “I do not like the way that Anardor looks at you.” He spoke in an off-hand manner, trying to make light of it.

She laughed, “O Lord Legolas, whatever do you mean? He seems pleasant enough.”

He cast a sharp look at her, “Did you not notice the way he came to sit by you, took every opportunity to talk to you? He can barely keep his eyes from you.”

She stopped, looking at Legolas with a surprised smile on her face, “And if I did notice why would I not think he was just being courteous?”

Legolas smiled and shook his head, “I do not blame him, my lady, but..,” and he paused before continuing, “..we have agreed have we not?” He raised an eyebrow and his eyes glinted, “While you are here, you are mine are you not?”

Her eyes danced in reply, her gaze never leaving his, and her smile broadened, “‘Yours’, my lord? I am no-one’s or not yet at least.”

He laughed softly but never took his eyes off her, “And if I am jealous, who would blame me?”

They were closer now, almost touching, her hand still in his. “Not I, my lord.”

Again he raised an eyebrow and it took all his restraint to not kiss her then and there as he looked at this face turned up towards him, the lips parted slightly, the smiling eyes locked onto his: those grey, beautiful eyes.

“No, indeed, my lord, it pleases me to know that such as one as you is by my side to watch over me.”

His voice came quiet then, barely above a murmur, “I have promised you my friendship, my lady, and I will never break my promise; just as you never broke the one you made to me in Edoras.” She flushed a little and her head dropped, but he took her chin and raised her head so her eyes looked into his own once more, “Nathon mellon lin an-uir, hîril nín.”

She smiled. A smile of such beauty, it seemed to him, that it nearly broke him.

She reached up for the hand still upon her chin, took hold of it and said, “Hannaid, hir nín. A gerich ‘wend nín an-uir.” He nodded, still holding her gaze with his own.

For a second they stood there, looking into each others eyes, smiling and holding each others’ hands and then, with a gentle “Tolo” Legolas started back towards the halls still holding one of her hands in his own.


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She went to the stables early next morning to find Lord Legolas already there and saddling a horse for her. It was a chestnut mare, of similar build and height to Dunnwair and it was in fact her saddle that Legolas was using.

He looked up and smiled as he heard her approach. “Aiya, hîril nín. She is nearly ready for you. How is your back today? You are certain you are well enough to ride?”

“Aiya, Lord Legolas. I am well, I assure you.”

She was amused that he had guessed the reason she had refused to ride the day before. He nodded and stood back, having finished with her saddle, to allow her to mount.

“She is gentle enough with skilled horsemen, this one,” said Legolas patting the mare’s neck, “But she will go fast if urged.” He grinned up at Fuineth.

She smiled, “Indeed? Well we shall have to put her through her paces, shall we not?”

Legolas laughed softly. He was beginning to understand something of Lady Fuineth now and speed and freedom on a horse was clearly a great delight to her, as it was to him. He quickly jumped on to Arod’s back and turned him with a word. He looked over to her. “Shall we?” She smiled her reply and the two set off into the woods.

They were not too long on their ride since Legolas had to return to supervise the preparations for the archery contest that afternoon. During it they chatted of this and that and Legolas recounted tales he knew and even sang for her at one point.

When he had finished his lay he looked at her as she walked the mare alongside him, “You promised to teach me a song, my lady, if you remember.”

She gasped, “Why yes. I had forgot.”

He laughed, “In truth so had I till now. Well we must make sure I have learnt it before...”

He caught himself, but too late he realised, and turned to look at her. Her head was bowed suddenly and there fell a silence between them.

Legolas murmured to Arod and he stopped. Fuineth, realising, gently pulled her reins and they sat there, side by side. Legolas held his hand out to her. She took it.

“Lady Fuineth. Goheno nín. I did not mean to mention anything that might spoil our morning together. Promise me you will try not to think of it?”

She looked up at him then, and he could see her eyes glistening wet. Even so she smiled at him, “Of course, my lord. Forgive me also for reacting so. It is silly, I know. There is nothing that can be done, and such is the nature of things. We can do no more.”

It sounded to him that she was less than convinced by what she was saying and that, indeed, she was trying to persuade herself of it by saying it out loud. He now knew this separation was going to be hard, for himself as much as for her, and more than he had realised. He returned her smile, squeezed her hand a little but said nothing, and they continued on at a walking pace, but still in silence now, each lost in their own thoughts of the inevitable separation that would occur in little over a week’s time.

Soon they reached open ground and raced. Fuineth was surprised by the speed shown by the mare Legolas had given her, and she was able to match Arod’s pace easily. She was gasping and laughing as they neared the trees once more and slowed.

Legolas grinned. He loved to see her like this. “Did I not warn you she was fast?”

Fuineth laughed softly, “Indeed, my lord, but I scarcely understood what you meant. She is easily as fast as Dunnwair, perhaps more so.”

“Yes, a little more than Dunnwair I would say,” Legolas replied and he was still grinning as he spoke. He could see she was pleased and it gladdened his heart to see it.

They entered the trees and began to make their way back to the halls, talking once more, their earlier reminder of the pain soon to come forgotten.

As they neared the stables Legolas turned to her, “My lady, you never properly answered my question from yesterday.”

She knew perfectly well what he was referring to, but feigned ignorance and looked at him with wide innocent eyes, “What question, my lord?”

He grinned. He could see she was playing with him. They were entering the stable yard as he said, “I think you know perfectly well, Lady Fuineth.”

For the briefest instant he saw her eyes twinkle mischievously and then it was gone, replaced by mock incomprehension and surprise. “No, my lord, indeed I do not. Which question would this be?”

‘She is trying to get me to repeat it,’ Legolas thought to himself. He felt his grin widen.

He jumped off Arod and stood beside her, still seated upon her horse. “About the contest this afternoon. You said you would be there, of course, but you did not answer my question.”

She raised an inquisitory eyebrow at him and sat there, patiently, trying not to laugh, waiting for him to continue.

He laughed softly. “Will you not come down, my lady?” he asked, now raising an eyebrow in his turn and holding out one hand to her.

She grinned, turned in her saddle, bringing one leg over the horse’s rump, and stepped down holding on to the saddle with one hand and Legolas’s hand with the other. She turned to him and realised just how close he was standing to her. She smiled up at him, coyness all over her face but with mischief in her eyes. He wanted to laugh out loud.

“What question, my lord?”

He drew breath over his teeth in mock exasperation. “Will you be watching me in the contest, Lady Fuineth?”

There was a beat and in that moment all the mask dropped from her countenance and he saw within her eyes the depth of her emotion for him and his breath stopped.

“Of course, Lord Legolas,” then that mischievous glint once more, “Did you really need to ask?”

She grinned as he groaned, laughing. “Ai, you enjoy teasing me, do you not?”

Her grin broadened, “Is that a complaint, Lord Legolas?”

He smiled at her, the laughter still in his eyes, “No indeed, my lady.”

She turned then to start unsaddling the mare and Legolas undid the buckles on the bridle. One elf came forward to take the mare and Arod to their stables while another took the saddle from Fuineth.

She thanked them and, turning to Legolas, said, “One moment, my lord, but I did not get to see Dunnwair before we left.” Legolas nodded and he and the other elf went to put the riding tack away.

She was just coming out of Dunnwair’s stall when he returned back across the yard to her. He smiled.

“How is she?”

“Much improved. I am not surprised but it is still astonishing to see. The wound is nearly closed.”

Legolas nodded, “It will not be long before you can ride her again, perhaps tomorrow or the day after. I know she has been walked around the yard a little already and she is not limping any more.”

She was touched that he had been asking after Dunnwair, though she knew, of course, that as Lord of the halls it was his duty to know how his guests and their mounts were being looked after. She smiled gratefully, “I am glad to hear it. Truly I know she is being well looked after. I could not hope for a better place for her.”

“May I walk you to the halls, Lady Fuineth? I needs then must leave you since there is much to organise for this afternoon.” She took his arm.

When they reached the awnings and tents where the guests were spending their morning, Legolas greeted them all and spoke to Aragorn and Faramir for a little while. Then, excusing himself, he left but before he did so he stopped by Lady Fuineth and, looking her in the eye and with a grin on his face, he said, “Till this afternoon, Lady Fuineth.” She smiled as he kissed her hand and then was gone.


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The midday meal was light and Fuineth noticed that many of the elves were eating even less than usual, so excited were they.

As they walked slowly through the trees to the East Field, Fuineth and Gwenneth found themselves in a group that included Rúmil, Elladan, Aragorn and Faramir.

Rúmil was busy complaining about his eldest brother, “I cannot quite believe he let Naril goad him into this. He is too hot-headed for his own good at times.”

Elladan raised an eyebrow, “And this from the elf who all but broke his bow in two when he was beaten by a mere stripling of a hundred years last year in Lorien.”

Rúmil glowered at him, “Someone coughed as I let my arrow fly. I have told you that. Several times, Elladan.”

Elladan was clearly about to let some barbed comment fly back at him when Faramir laughed, “Come now. Is archery really so important it is worth fighting over?”

The elves turned to him, utter amazement on their faces that he could question its’ importance, and Fuineth and Gwenneth had to stiffle a giggle on seeing their expressions.

Aragorn put an arm round Faramir’s shoulder and said in an explanatory tone, though Faramir knew well enough, “Faramir, as I am sure you know, what you must never forget with elves is that their bows are near enough a part of them. Never, ever get between an elf and his bow. Nor is it wise to criticise or pass comment on their archery skills. If, for example,” he threw a look at Elladan, “an elf gets his arrow stuck in a tree while trying to shoot, say, a passing bird, you do not roar with laughter till you are nearly sick.”

He was grinning. Elladan was red and his eyes flashing. Rúmil was giggling. Faramir nodded wisely though the smirk on his face was clear for all to see.

“At least, Estel,” said Elladan a little warmly, “I can fire an arrow in a straight line. And to a distance of further than seventy paces.”

Aragorn merely shrugged. “I have never pretended to be an archer Elladan, so am I not ashamed of it. Give me a sword and I am happy enough. Besides, I can shoot well enough for a hunt and that is all that matters.”

They were nearing the field now. Fuineth and Gwenneth were giggling to themselves at all this competitive banter when Rúmil turned to them. “Will either of you ladies be entering the competition?”

They looked at each other and both erupted into a peel of laughter. Rúmil looked slightly baffled, but smiled pleasantly enough.

Fuineth explained, “No, my lord. Human women are not so trained, in all honesty. I had a little training, growing up as I did in Rohan, but it was mainly in swordsmanship. I have a little skill with a sword, though laughable I am sure, but almost none with a bow.”

The men and elves smiled and laughed a little. Rúmil bowed slightly, “Forgive me, then, if I have suggested something improper.”

She shook her head, “No indeed, it is not that, it is simply not the custom.”

Aragorn was laughing now. “Have you learnt nothing from your brief encounters with men, Rúmil? You should know by now it is not as with elves where male and female train in all things equally. Men and women do not share the same duties or interests.”

Rúmil nodded, “I realise but I am still always surprised by it. Queen Arwen will be joining the contest will she not?”

Aragorn and Elladan both nodded. “She is a little out of practise though,” Aragorn admitted.

“Good,” said Elladan, “Less competition for us then, not that she could have ever beaten Elrohir or I, let alone Haldir, Naril or Legolas.”

Fuineth wondered at this. “Legolas, my lord?”

Rúmil and Aragorn exchanged a glance at her sudden interest and grinned. Elladan replied, “Yes indeed, my lady. Legolas is about the most skilled archer amongst us. Haldir and Naril are his near rivals, though, and they will challenge him greatly I do not doubt.”

She nodded. Her brother had told her Legolas was skilled, and indeed that the Dúnedain spoke highly of him as a warrior as well as an archer, but to be praised by fellow elves was praise indeed. She began to look forward to this contest even more than she already was.

The sun was warm on her face as Fuineth stepped into the field. The trees stretched out in a line to right and left behind her and in front of her lay a huge, flat expanse of short grass and it stretched out fairly unbroken for several leagues till it reached more wooded areas just before the mountains. Already many people were there, all gathered together to one side where there were awnings and seating available as well as wine and food. Fuineth could see poles already set up some three hundred paces away from the throng. There were also ropes already marking out where the targets would be moved to as the competition progressed.

Seeing her confusion Faramir explained to her and Gwenneth. “They don’t use round or large targets. They find that far too easy with their keen eyesight. So they use poles instead about a hand’s breadth in width. Each has coloured bands painted on, you will notice, and you see the central white band? That has a thin strip of metal in the middle and that is the central target. It is the person who gets closest to that who wins. They will start at this distance and move the poles further and further away to about nine hundred hundred paces usually.”

Gwenneth gasped, “Nine hundred paces?”

Faramir smiled, “You would be surprised, my lady. I have seen elves hit the metal strip at that distance and further.”

Fuineth now turned to him, “Will you be taking part my lord?”

He smiled, “Yes indeed, but I cannot hope to win. I merely hope to improve on my performance each time I enter one of these competitions.”

They moved across to join the rest of the guests. As they did so Legolas, in conversation with Naril and Orophin, saw her and, excusing himself, came up to her. He beamed.

“Lady Fuineth. You have not forgot your answer to me of this morning I trust?”

She laughed, “No indeed, Lord Legolas. I have just heard tell of your prowess with a bow, and I am looking forward to seeing you compete.”

“Indeed? And who has been singing my praises?”

“Elladan. He tells me the competition is between you, Haldir and Naril.”

He smiled, “Does he now? Well I might advise you refrain from saying so to either Haldir or Naril. I am not sure their tempers could cope with it at this moment.”

She grinned, “I notice you do not make an attempt to deny it then.”

He laughed, “Well, I could be modest, but I must be honest: I have a some skill with a bow, it is true. But it is not a foregone conclusion by any means. Haldir and his brothers, as Galadhrim, are great archers. Naril is skilled also and, being older than I, has had more experience. It will be a fair contest no matter who the winner might be.” He paused for a moment before continuing quietly so that none other might overhear him, “But I needs must say that just to know you are watching me is enough for me, my lady, whether I win or no.”

She flushed and smiled but before she could reply there was a horn blast. Legolas grinned, “That is the signal to begin. Please, sit, and enjoy the spectacle.”

As he started to move off she said, “May Elbereth guide your arrows true, Lord Legolas.”

He smiled, “Hannaid, hîril nín. That was well said,” and he turned to join the other competitors.

Fuineth went to join the spectators. Lord Faramir and both his stewards were competing, as were Arwen, her brothers and all the Galadhrim. Lady Mirriel had chosen not to enter so the three ladies-in-waiting sat together on some cushions with Aragorn beside them.

A line had been marked out with a rope tied to stakes behind which the archers were to stand. There were six poles set three hundred paces ahead. The first six competitors came to stand behind the line and so it began. Anyone who hit within the white band would stay for the next round.

A few elfings and younger elves as well as one of Lord Faramir’s stewards fell at the first round. The poles were then moved back another hundred paces with each successive round. Lord Faramir did very well and managed up to five hundred paces till his arrow sailed just above the white band, though he hit the target. He came to join the growing group round the King and ladies-in-waiting and seemed pleased with himself.

“You did better than before, my lord?” Lady Fuineth asked him.

He nodded. “Same distance but closer to the white this time. Deserves a drink I would say. Ladies?” They nodded and he went off with Anardor, who had also been knocked out in that round, to fetch them all some wine.

Soon Arwen, and then later Rúmil and Elrohir, joined them. At last the only ones left were Legolas, Elladan, Orophin, Haldir and Naril.

Rúmil was explaining to Fuineth and Gwenneth once more, “At this distance it is now a case of trying to hit the metal band. If any one archer hits the band then he has won. If two hit, then the rest are knocked out and the poles moved back one hundred paces till only one archer succeeds in hitting the band or getting closest to it.” They nodded.

As the poles were fixed in their new distances of nine hundred paces Fuineth saw Legolas look round to her, notice she was looking at him, and grin. She couldn’t help but smile broadly in return.

The five took their places. The signal was given and they let their arrows loose. The marshals slowly walked up to the poles. An arm went up as they reached Haldir’s target meaning he had hit the metal strip; another arm up for Naril; a shake of the head for Elladan, and another for Orophin (both had only just missed it); an arm up for Legolas.

Gwenneth laughed, “Just as you predicted, Lord Rúmil.” He grinned.

Again the poles, just three this time, were moved further back. As the archers moved to their places once more Legolas again looked round, assuring himself that Fuineth was watching him and smiled. The signal came, the arrows flew and hit their marks and once more the marshals walked forward.

An arm was raised for Haldir, but none for Naril.

Rúmil laughed, “He will not be pleased!”

Arwen was more kind, “He only just missed it, though.”

Fuineth waited, feeling nervous as they reached Legolas’s target; a beat; then an arm. She had to hold back a cheer, but the beam on her face was evident to Legolas as he turned to look at her over his shoulder.

Haldir came up to him, grinning, “Well, my friend, it would seem it is between you and I.”

Legolas laughed, “Yes indeed.”

Again the target was moved this time to one thousand and one hundred paces, but now, with only two competitors in the running, it was reduced to just one pole. A marshal came up to them with two straws in his hand.

Legolas motioned to Haldir, “As my guest I insist you choose first.”

Haldir did and got the long straw. He could choose whether to shoot first or second. He chose to go first.

Legolas leaned on his bow to watch him as he shot. He could easily tell from here he had hit the metal strip. He glanced over his shoulder once more as he reached his position behind the line. Fuineth smiled at him, willing him to win. He smiled back, took a breath, and raised his bow drawing the string back to his lip. He aimed. He let go.

The arrow whistled through the air and hit the target, splitting Haldir’s arrow in two. A cheer went up from the crowd and even Naril conceded this was a good shot and smiled.

The pole was moved back another hundred paces. Haldir was once more standing stock still, readying himself. He raised his bow, drew back the string, and let it fly. It hit the white, or so Fuineth thought though she could not be sure at such a distance, but there was a murmur from the elves around her that told her he had missed the metal band.

Legolas now took his place, once more catching her eye as he did so. She smiled and nodded, imperceptibly to him. He saw it, and smiled in return. Once more he took a breath, fixed his eye on the target and raised his bow. The muscles in his arm strained as he pulled back the string and took aim. A beat and then his arrow was in the wood.

There was an excited muttering all round Fuineth and she knew what they had seen but everyone was waiting for the marshal to confirm it. The elf walked, all too slowly for Fuineth’s liking, over to the pole, stopped well short of it to turn and raise an arm.

As the cheers erupted, Haldir stepped towards his old friend and took him by the arm and embraced him.

“Well played, Legolas. Very well down.”

Legolas was beaming. Naril came over to congratulate him and soon enough Legolas was surrounded by those wishing him well but he was busy looking over their heads, even as he murmured thanks for their kind words, towards a figure, still seated, but with her face glowing with pride and pleasure.

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nathon mellon lin an-uir, hiril nin = Forever your friend, my lady

hannaid, hir nin. A gerich ‘wend nin an-uir = Thanks, my lord. And you have my friendship forever.

tolo = Come

aiya = hello (Quenya)

goheno nin = forgive me

Author’s Note: My gratitude and thanks go to AN for helping me get the distances for the archery contest believable and accurate.


Chapter 18 - Discussions

Chapter 17 ~ Discussions


That evening there was a feast in the hall, though in truth the merriment did not really stop from the end of the contest and the feast was a mere continuation of it.

Afterwards everyone gathered on the large talan, as they had the previous night, but in far higher spirits. Haldir and Naril’s rivalry was forgotten for the time being since this time both had been beaten, but Naril could not help himself when he laughingly said, “We will see what happens next time we meet, Lord Haldir.”

The groans from those around him were enough to tell him to hold his tongue and sit down.

Legolas presented them both, as runners up, with their prizes. To Haldir a beautiful quiver, finely crafted with gold inlay on the leather and filigree silver round the edge. To Naril a handsome cloak clasp in silver and intricately fashioned.

As the songs and stories started once more and Legolas, after recharging his cup, came to sit beside Lady Fuineth she said, “And what of you, my lord? Does the winner not get a prize?”

He laughed, “As host I can hardly give something to myself.”

“No, but someone else might.”

“Why?” he was laughing softly and looking at her more closely now having seen that mischievous gleam in her eye once more, “What would you suggest my prize should be?” But they were interrupted by Haldir coming to sit with them and he did not hear what her answer would have been.

After a short while there were calls for music and dancing and soon couples were moving in time in the centre of the large talan. It had begun to rain lightly, but the awning stretched out from tree branch to tree branch above them meant it did not concern the revellers. Legolas and Fuineth were seated together with some others when a figure came to stand next to them.

“Lady Fuineth? Might I have the honour of a dance?”

Fuineth looked up, a little surprised, to see Anardor smiling down at her. It would have been very rude of her to refuse.

“Of course, Lord Anardor.” She stood and whispered to Legolas “Just one dance and I shall return” but he did not look best pleased.

As she danced she could see Legolas watching her. He was not joining in the conversation around him but had his gaze fixed upon her and his lips were tight as was his jaw.

As the music came to an end Anardor bowed slightly and smiled, “I thank you, my lady. You are a beautiful dancer.”

Even as she thanked him, a figure appeared next to him, “She is indeed, Lord Anardor. Lady Fuineth, might I have the honour?”

She smiled, more warmly now, “I would be delighted, Lord Legolas.”

Legolas watched Anardor move away before he turned to her, his eyes dark, though his face was not angry, “Why did you do that?” S

he was surprised, “My lord, I could not have refused him. It would have seemed rude. Besides, you had no objection to my dancing with him at the dance the other night, nor with anyone else for that matter.” The music was beginning and they were moving hand in hand in a circle now.

Legolas returned, a little sharper than he had intended, “That was before I noticed him watching you at every opportunity.”

They danced in silence a little more, then as they came face to face she whispered, almost close to tears, “My lord are you angry with me?”

His face changed in an instant as he realised he had upset her. He said gently, “No, my lady. No, no, not at all. You are right, it would have been rude to have refused. Forgive me. It’s just...” He sighed, shook his head and could not finish what he would say.

As the dance finished she could see Anardor was hovering, hoping to ask her to dance once more. Legolas had clearly noticed also because he deliberately moved her away from the throng and in the opposite direction to Anardor.

They reached the edge of the talan some distance from the rest of the company. They could hear the sound of the rain on the awning and in the leaves and a coolness from the wet night air hit their faces as they stood there, arm in arm, looking out into the dark. It was Legolas who spoke first.

“I apologise, Lady Fuineth. I should not have spoken to you so. You were right in what you did. It is simply that it is difficult for me to watch you dance with someone I know sees you the way I do. Can you understand that?”

She was looking at him now, and could feel her breath quickening at his words. “Avo ‘osto, hir nín. If I could have refused him, I would, if only for your sake.”

He turned to her. As he did so he reached out a hand and stroked her cheek, brushing away a strand of her hair. “I can well believe it. You are ever considerate of my feelings. That is what first drew me to you, in truth.”

She was gazing up at him now, delighted at what she was hearing, but he could see tears forming in her eyes as she thought how all this would soon end and how, no matter what he said to her, it would never be fulfilled.

“Amman nallach, hîril nín?” he asked her gently, the concern clear in his voice.

She shook her head, bringing her hand up to his as it rested on her cheek still.

He asked quietly, “Do I upset you to speak thus? Forgive me if I have said something I shouldn’t.”

She shook her head again, “No, it is not that. Or rather it is, in some ways.... oh, Lord Legolas, how can I explain?”

He understood. “Ai. I should not have spoken so freely just now, I see that. But it is hard for me not to say what is in my heart.”

She nodded, a tear rolling down one cheek.

“Shh. My lady, do not cry. Please. Imagine I had never said anything. It was thoughtless of me.”

She looked up at him then, hurt and defiance in her face, “No, my lord. I will not imagine any such thing. Rather I shall treasure your words and these precious moments we have for all my...”

She gasped and stopped, realising what she would have said.

For a moment they stood absolutely still: he hardly daring to breathe and she now looking at the floor praying that somehow he had not heard her.

At last he said, very quietly, “You will treasure them for all your what, my lady?”

She shook her head, not lifting her gaze to his. “Nothing my lord. Please. Do not ask me.”

His tone was still gentle, tender, but now insistent, “Tell me.” He lifted her face to look at him and said once more, “Tell me, my lady, I beg you.”

A tear wet her cheek once more as, gazing into those grey-green eyes, she said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I shall treasure these moments for all my life.”

He nodded and smiled, gazing at her with a look of deep understanding and affection. Then he pulled her close to him, wrapped his arms around her and held her.

They stood like that for some time: neither moving nor speaking, but both staring out into the rain, her head on his chest and shoulder and his arms about her back. At last he pulled back a little, holding her by her arms, so that he might look at her.

“Shall we return, my lady? Would you like another dance?”

She returned his smile, “Thank you Lord Legolas, I would like that very much.”


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The Galadhrim left the next day. They came to say their farewells and were most gracious and charming as ever. Fuineth had enjoyed their company and was sorry to see them leave. It reminded her once more that the time was coming when she would have to leave also and she was noticeably quiet for a little while after they had gone.

Lord Legolas was busy that morning so there was no ride that day. When she was on her way from the stables and seeing Dunnwair she noticed a figure coming towards her.

He was tall and dark, though not as tall as an elf, and she immediately recognised him as Lord Anardor. After last night she did not relish the prospect of talking to him, not that he was unpleasant at all, but she wasn’t sure how to put him off without seeming rude.

“Good morning to you, Lady Fuineth.”

“Good morrow, Lord Anardor. Have you just seen the Galadhrim off?”

“Yes indeed. I have enjoyed their company much the little while I have spent with them. May I escort you back to the halls, perhaps, if you are headed that way?”

“Of course, my lord. I needs must return to the Queen, I feel sure she may have need of me.”

She had no idea if Arwen needed her, and thought it highly unlikely, but it would give her an excuse. As it was Arwen was walking in the clearing near the halls and Fuineth was able to rid herself of Lord Anardor sooner than she had hoped.

She came up to Arwen shaking her head. Arwen was laughing.

“He is somewhat persistent, is he not?”

“I am really not sure what to do, your highness. He has not approached me directly so it difficult to know what to say to him. He is pleasant enough and most courteous. I have to be polite but I am certainly not encouraging him.”

Arwen smiled, “Do you wish Lord Faramir to have a word with him?”

“And say what, my Queen?”

Arwen looked a little surprised, “Well, that you are courted by Lord Legolas, of course.”

There was a silence and then Fuineth said quietly, “But I am not, your highness.”

Arwen raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She motioned to a bench and they sat. “Fuineth,” she began, “You go riding or walking with him every day. You danced with each other almost the entire night of the banquet and again last night. I have seen the way you look at each other. Of course he is courting you.”

Fuineth shook her head, “No indeed. Lord Legolas and I have spoken of this and agreed. It cannot be. It will end when I leave Ithilien.”

Arwen sat in silence looking at this young woman seated next to her. She could hear the tremor in Fuineth’s voice and knew she was close to tears as she said this. She sighed and stroked Fuineth’s hair.

“O Fuineth. There is nothing I can say to you. It is your decision, of course, you and Lord Legolas’s, but do you realise how much harder it will be now you have become so close?”

Fuineth nodded. Then quietly she said the words Lord Legolas had said to her, “The parting will be more painful but the memory will be the sweeter.”

Then she broke, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. Arwen put her arms around her and held her as she wept and her eyes were wet too. She knew all too well what Fuineth was going through.

At last the muffled sobs stopped and Fuineth’s breathing became calmer once more. She pulled back from the Queen’s embrace, “Forgive me, your highness. I should not have let myself be so overcome.”

“Nonsense. It is perfectly understandable.”

She watched as Fuineth tried to dry her eyes a little and compose herself. “Tell me, Fuineth. What do you really feel? In truth, deep in your heart? Do you want it to end?”

Fuineth looked at her, astonished that she should ask and touched that she should care enough to do so. “I.. I do not know,” she stammered.

Arwen, looking in her eyes, shook her head, “I think you do. But I will not press you.”

Fuineth could feel her eyes wet once more, “But your highness.. it is not the same decision for me as it is for him. I make this decision for his sake more than my own.”

Arwen nodded, she understood. The prospect of the pain of living after the other was gone was something that she had had to confront herself. Fuineth was right. The decision for the mortal and the immortal were not the same. One would die, with or without that love. The other would have to endure having lost that love.

Fuineth could see Arwen was now upset. “Forgive me, my Queen. I should not have spoken of this with you. I can see I have distressed you.”

Arwen shook her head, “No, Fuineth. I can understand you better than most. I have made my decision. And I have no regrets.” She smiled as she spoke and it cheered Fuineth’s heart a little to hear her. Arwen stood, “Come, let us go in. I wish to see some of this embroidery you have been working on. Have you managed to achieve that elvish leaf design you were working on to your satisfaction?”

“I think so, my Queen, but I will let you be the judge.”

As they walked arm in arm back to the halls Fuineth murmured, “Thank you, your highness.”

“Not at all, my child. Not at all.”


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Lord Faramir was staying for a few days more and there was a general company of guests still to keep Lord Legolas busy, which meant that he and Fuineth had little opportunity to be together privately other than an hour or so stolen together, most usually for a ride. Dunnwair was fully healed the day after the archery contest, but even so they did not push her hard for a day or two. Being in each others’ company was enough.

Three days after the archery contest, the assembled company were variously occupied and conversing in the clearings, under awnings and on the talans near the halls before the evening meal. Aragorn, Elladan and Legolas were sat side by side on a bench under an awning enjoying some wine when Elrohir called his brother and the other two were left alone.

Aragorn looked at Legolas, “Lord Faramir leaves tomorrow, does he not?” Legolas nodded and Aragorn smiled, “You will be glad to see Anardor leave I do not wonder?”

Legolas looked at him, “What makes you say that?”

Aragorn laughed softly, “Legolas! It is clear to everyone he has taken a shine to Lady Fuineth. Even you seemed upset when she had to dance with him the other night. Your face was black as thunder. She has been doing her best to avoid him, you know, so Arwen tells me.” Legolas smiled at that piece of news.

There was a pause till Aragorn said, “You need not worry. Lord Faramir spoke to him this morning.”

Legolas looked up at his friend sharply, “Spoke to him?”

“Discretely, you need not fear. Explained the situation. The poor man was worried he had offended you both.”

Legolas’s jaw was tightening, “Explained the situation?”

Aragorn looked at him closely, “That you are courting. What else?”

Legolas did not reply but looked away and moved to the opening of the awning and stared out into the clearing.

Aragorn’s brow was furrowed. “Legolas? What is it?”

Legolas turned back to him, his face calm though his eyes betrayed far more, “We are not courting.”

Aragorn’s brow creased even further, “Oh no? Then what would you call it?”

“It cannot be, Aragorn. It ends when she leaves. We are enjoying what moments we have, but that is all.”

Aragorn shook his head, “Ai Legolas. And what happens when she leaves? You say you are not courting. Is Anardor free to court her then? Because he wishes to, and you know that.”

Legolas’s face grew dark.

“Answer me, Legolas,” Aragorn’s tone was insistent. He knew he was pushing things, but he felt it needed to be said and his voice was growing stern as he spoke, “Your face tells far more than you would like. It is clear you do not wish for such a thing. You do not want to take her for yourself, yet you do not want another to have her? Is that it?”

Legolas’s eyes flashed now, the fury clear in his face, but he held his tongue knowing in his heart the truth of what Aragorn was saying.

“Which is it Legolas? If you do not want her then once she leaves she will be free to marry. Do you wish for another man to take her? Is that what you want? Could you bear the idea of her giving her heart to another?”

“NO!” Legolas roared and he flung his cup across the floor.

Several elves, walking in the distance, turned to look towards them on hearing his cry.

Aragorn spoke more quietly now. “Forgive me, my friend, but I do not believe you are being honest to yourself nor fair to Lady Fuineth. You must resolve this, one way or the other, and you must accept the full consequences of your choice no matter which it may be.”

Legolas nodded, his cheeks flushed in his anger and emotion. He came to sit on the other end of the bench with a sigh and held his head in his hands. He did not see Elladan arrive, having heard his shout. Elladan looked concerned but Aragorn shook his head at him and, on seeing his expression, Elladan left them alone once more.

Legolas spoke quietly, “Forgive me, Aragorn. I should not have lost my temper. You were right in what you said though it was hard for me to hear it. It is not fair I should hold her to me like this.”

Aragorn’s tone was gentle, “But can you let her go to the arms of another, Legolas? Search your heart and answer truthfully. If you let her go, then you will have to accept that she will be free for another to marry, to love, to cherish. Can you do that?”

Legolas remained silent for many minutes and then slowly raised his head and looked Aragorn in the face. His voice was very quiet and his eyes were filled with tears.

“No. No, Aragorn, I do not think I can. My heart trembles at the very thought.”

Aragorn put his arm across his friend’s shoulder and looked at him with compassion, “Then I think you have your answer, do you not, my friend?”

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Avo osto = I understand

Amman nallach? = why do you weep?


Chapter 19 - Nearing Departure

Chapter 18 ~ Nearing Departure



That night at the meal Fuineth was aware that Lord Legolas seemed to watch her more than usual. Afterwards the general company separated once more into smaller groups. Legolas, Aragorn and the twins disappeared to drink and converse and Fuineth wondered that he had not come to her or spoken with her. She excused herself earlier than usual that evening and went to bed feeling a little tearful though she assumed he was perhaps merely trying to make their parting in a few days time all the easier for her.

In the morning Lord Faramir and his two stewards came to give their farewells to the Queen and the ladies-in-waiting. Fuineth noticed Lord Anardor was warm with her, but not as attentive as he had been and wondered if something had been said. She was pleased, no matter the cause.

A little while after they had left, after making sure Arwen did not need her for a while, Fuineth made her way to the stables. There was no sign of Lord Legolas so she saddled Dunnwair herself and went off on a short ride to give her a little exercise. She knew the country round about a little better now she had been out so often with Lord Legolas and she soon found herself on the open hilly ground they had come to on that first ride together. She headed toward the hills and soon found herself by the river and dismounted to sit beneath the willow just as they had done that time.

She gazed out into the distance. The White Mountains were a blue haze on the horizon and out there somewhere, she knew, was the city she must return to in four days time. She let her mind run back over all the events she had had here in Ithilien.

She loved it here and would have been sorry to leave even without all that had happened between Lord Legolas and herself. She remembered how he had held her close the other night, how they had stood there looking at the rain and the darkness and she had heard his heart beating through his tunic. Her eyes began to fill with tears.

She loved him. She knew that. It pained her even to admit it, but she had to. Yet she would never know that love returned. She was weeping now, the tears falling silently down her cheeks. She did not hear the soft thud of hooves behind her till they were quite close, so distracted was she in her own thoughts.

“Lady Fuineth?”

She started, sniffed and quickly tried to wipe her eyes. She couldn’t let him see her like this.

Legolas got down from Arod, “You did not wait for me at the stables. Forgive me if you thought I was not coming.”

She nodded and smiled, hoping she was presentable enough to face him now. He could see she had been crying, though. “That is quite alright, my lord. I know you are busy and I thought it best I give Dunnwair some exercise rather than wait.”

“You did right, my lady.”

“How did you know I was here?”

He laughed, “Your trail was easy enough to track my lady, and once I saw you had gone as far as the open ground back there,” he gestured behind him towards the hills, “I knew where I would find you.”

She smiled. “It is a beautiful spot, this. It must be wonderful in spring and summer.”

He nodded, “It is indeed.” He gestured back towards the willow where she had been sitting, “Shall we sit a while, my lady?”

“Of course.”

They sat, leaning their backs against the truck and gazed out over the lazy waters of the Anduin.

“What were you thinking about when I arrived just now, lady Fuineth?” he asked, though he guessed rightly enough.

“Oh, just remembering the times I have spent here. It has been a most pleasant stay.” She was trying to sound bright and inconsequential.

He looked at her and laughed, “‘Most pleasant’? I had hoped you might show a little more enthusiasm for my halls and hospitality.”

She laughed, “Forgive me, Lord Legolas. I did not mean to sound ungrateful.”

He dropped his voice a little, trying to tease her, “It is not gratitude I hoped for, either.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Oh no? And what were you hoping for?”

He grinned, “Well I was hoping to teach you some archery perhaps. We cannot have you attending another hunt and endangering the lives of others.”

She gasped in mock outrage, “My lord!” and she made to slap him gently on the shoulder but he caught her hand, grinning. She struggled against him ineffectually, but eventually managed to get to her feet and stood there, hands on hips with affected indignation. “You should not mock your guests, Lord Legolas, it is most ungallant!”

He leaned back on one elbow now looking up at her with a broad smile and his eyes shining with laughter, “Ungallant? Is that what you would call the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen? Ungallant?!”

“Well I must admit it is not the first word that comes to mind, but still...” and she stuck her tongue out at him.

He jumped up now and moved toward her but she backed away from him, grinning, “Why? What *is* the first word that comes to mind?”

He advanced slowly still but she skirted round the trunk of the tree laughing at him. He grabbed out for her but she skipped out of reach, running off now towards a group of three or four trees a few yards away. He ran after her, and she, realising this was now a chase, squealed and tried to dodge in and out of the trees and round and round them. He soon caught her, both of them laughing, as he said, “Never try and outrun an elf!”

He had both his arms about her waist and she was giggling up at him.

“I would know what my lady thinks of me!” he said in a growl.

She smirked, her eyes glowing with mischief now, “I think my lord already knows what I think of him.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Does he indeed?” She laughed, and struggled to get free but he just held her all the tighter. “And does my lady know what I think of her?”

She stopped struggling now, having caught something in his tone of voice, her hands resting where they were on his forearms as she looked into his eyes. She stopped laughing though she was smiling still.

Her voice was gentle. “I think I can guess, my lord.”

“Can you, Lady Fuineth?”

His voice was quiet, staring into her eyes. He could feel her heartbeat in the closeness of their embrace. Without a moment’s thought he knew his face was drawing close to hers. He could feel her breath against him before it caught in her throat. He looked into those grey eyes of hers once more and then kissed her.

It was a brief kiss, but tender. He looked into her eyes again and saw they were filled with tears. He took one hand from round her back to stroke her hair away from her face.

She started to speak, “My lord..” but she got no further.

With a “Shhh”, he held her cheek with his hand and kissed her once more, this time for longer, and he felt her responding to him, her lips parting and returning his kiss with her own.

He held her then, her head buried against his chest, neither speaking but both aware of their hearts thumping against their ribs. At last she stirred, looked up into his eyes and smiled.

“Come,” he said, “We should return.”

She nodded, though neither moved for a moment. Then, holding her face with both hands, he kissed her lightly once more, took her hand and led her back to the horses.

Fuineth felt her world was reeling. She had no idea exactly what was going on, but she did not want to ask for fear of it all slipping away from her.

On the return journey they spoke little but rode, side by side, smiling at each other now and then. Legolas began to sing and when he had finished he said, “You must teach me your song, my lady. You must not forget.”

She nodded, “No, my lord. I will not.”

After they had housed the horses they walked slowly towards the halls together hand in hand. As they neared them he said he had business he needed to attend to, but he lingered, holding her hand still, looking down into her face once more. He smiled at her, and held his free hand to her face once again as he did so, the thumb stroking gently against her cheekbone.

“Ai, bain hîril nín,” he murmured and she flushed a little at his words though she smiled.

Then, to her utter astonishment, he bent to kiss her once more, even though anyone might have found them there, and then left her, amazed but smiling broadly and her cheeks flushed, grinning at her till at last he turned to enter the halls.


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A little while before dusk, Fuineth was sitting in one of the rooms of the halls sewing, when there came a light knock at the door and Lord Legolas entered.

“Are you busy, my lady?”

“Not at all, my lord,” and she smiled warmly at him.

He came over to her. “I wished to show you something, then, if you would allow me.”

“Of course,” and she started to put away her threads and embroidery.

“May I see?” He held out his hand and she, a little shyly, handed over the piece she was working on. He nodded approvingly as he inspected her work.

“It is a sash for Elsbeth. A wedding gift,” she explained.

He smiled, “It is beautiful work, Lady Fuineth. You have used an elvish design in here mixed with another?”

“Yes, my lord.” She came to stand next to him so she could better point it out, “The main design is a Rohirric one, my lord, one that looks more intricate that it is in truth. The design is like knots, or threads tied together, seemingly and I have an elvish tendril and leaf design that the elves here in Ithilien have taught me running and twisting through the knots as you can see.”

He handed it back to her, “It is fine work, my lady. Beautiful.” She flushed a little and thanked him. “Perhaps you would make something for me?” he asked, and she turned a little pink, surprised but pleased by his request.

“Certainly, my lord, that would please me greatly though I am sure I have not the skill of elves in such things.”

He shook his head, “No, your work is beautiful. I would not ask if I did not think so. I like this design too, though it perhaps a little too busy for me.”

She smiled, “The knot design can easily be made far simpler, with only two threads, for example. I have only designed it with so many so it fills the width of the sash.”

He nodded, “Very well then. It is agreed. Will you come with me now? We can discuss what you will sew for me as we walk perhaps, or later.” She nodded and took his arm.

He led her outside and through the trees. As they did so Fuineth was saying, “I do not think I have the skill to embroider an entire item of clothing for you nearly as well as the elves might, my lord, but may I adorn something you already possess, perhaps? Something simple, an everyday item.” She stopped, turning to look at him, “I have it. Do you have something you might wear when riding. That would be most appropriate, would it not?”

He smiled, “Yes indeed, my lady it would and would please me greatly. I have a tunic, newly made, that I have yet to wear that is very simple and plain in style. It would delight me more than I can say if you were to decorate it a little for me.”

She smiled in return, “Of course, my lord, I would be honoured.”

As they had been talking he had brought her once more to the tall tree with the talan at its heights. He took her hand and led her winding up the many stairs, but this time when they reached the top he brought her to the West facing side of the trunk. She smiled, guessing now why he had brought her. The sun was already low in the sky above the mountains and reddening their distant peaks.

Legolas turned to her, bringing her close to him and encircling her waist with his arms. “We have seen the dawn together, hîril nín, now let us watch the sunset. I delight in sharing with you those things that I find beautiful and which move my heart.”

She smiled into his eyes as he bent and kissed her. Her lips parted gently as he pressed and moved his against hers tenderly again and again. Then he broke away a little, kissed her brow and led her by the hand to sit beside him. He put his arm around her and she laid her head upon his shoulder, one hand upon his chest, as they watched the sky redden and glow as the sun dipped further and further behind the distant line of mountains, the snow capped peaks ablaze, and the dusk slowly fell. At last the sun was gone, though an orange haze was still visible above the mountains, now dark and fell and with the sky turning a darker blue far above them. Fuineth smiled.

“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured. She felt a slight pressure against her shoulder as he held her tighter by way of answer.

After a little while, as they watched the last of the orange disappear, Legolas spoke. “Lady Fuineth, I brought you here because I needs must talk with you.”

She looked up at him now and her movement meant his arm fell from her shoulder and rested somewhere near the middle of her back. “My lord?”

He shifted slightly too now so he was facing her and then he reached down to take her hand and looked at her. “Tell me, Lady Fuineth, truthfully, how you feel about leaving here and about the agreement we made.”

She looked down but she felt him lift her head to face him and he saw the tears filling her eyes.

He nodded. “Know that I feel the same, my lady. I have had to face what my heart has long be telling me.” He paused, one hand on her cheek, the other still holding her hand as he gazed longingly at her and whispered, “I cannot let you go.”

She stared at him, wonder and joy mixed in equal measure in her wide eyes. He was speaking once more, never taking his eyes off her, his voice still little more than a whisper, “Tell me you feel the same. I need to hear you say it, Lady Fuineth.”

She smiled, a tear threatening to fall, “Of course I do, my lord. You know that, do you not?” He nodded, smiling gently.

As he leaned towards her once more one hand moved up her arm while his other now held her behind her head. She let her hands rest on his waist while they kissed once more with gentle, tender touches, now here, now there, on each others’ lips, responding to each other in kind with their hearts so overcome they thought they might burst.

Then he held her close and they stared out into the gathering darkness. She had her arms around him and he was stroking her hair with one hand.

“I feel more content and at peace than I have in I do not know how long,” Legolas said at last. She smiled.

“I am glad,” she replied.

After a little while he shifted to look at her once more, “So what happens now?”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Well, you still are to leave in four days time, but we must think beyond that now.”

She smiled, “Of course, my lord.”

“I would wish to see you again as soon as I may. I am invited to your brother’s wedding, as you know, but till now I was not sure if I would be able to go or, in truth, ..” he hesitated and looked at her, “.. even if I could bear to.” She nodded and took his hand. “But this morning I made arrangements and I will be able to attend. Indeed I will try and stay for several days if I might.” He paused and grinned, “And while I am there I will speak to Túveren.” She looked puzzled for a moment. “He is your guardian, is he not? I need his permission if we are to marry.”

She gasped and opened her eyes in delight, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He laughed and held her close once more, kissing her again and again till they sank back, breathless and still laughing softly, against the tree trunk.

A little while longer and then Legolas stirred and rose. “Come, my lady, we must return. There are still guests I must attend to and it is beginning to get late. Our absence will be missed if we tarry much longer.”

He drew her into his arms once more as he added, “Much as I hate to leave.” She smiled as he kissed her lightly and then, hand in hand, they descended the tree and moved back to the halls.

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Ai hiril bain nin = Oh my beautiful lady.


Chapter 20 - Leaving Ithilien

Chapter 19 – Leaving Ithilien


Every morning they would ride together and every afternoon they would watch the sunset from the talan. Even when amongst the company now they would sit together, murmuring and laughing and even hold each others’ hands. Everyone could guess what had occurred between them.

On the last night of her stay in Ithilien, Legolas took Fuineth for a walk after the evening meal as was their wont at times. The rest of the company were deep in discussion and song in the halls and Fuineth and Legolas knew their absence would not be noted or minded.

Legolas led her to what had become one of their most frequented spots: the glade with the bench by the stream that he had declared early in her visit as one of his favourites places.

They sat side by side, laughing and talking of nothing of great import till Fuineth finally said, “The other night, my lord, before that first sunset we watched together, you did not speak to me at all after the meal though I could see you watching me closely throughout it. In truth I was worried lest you were upset with me or else were trying to withdraw a little before I left.”

He smiled, “Forgive me, Fuineth. I had already come to a decision about us, but it was too soon for me to talk to you of it, so great was the turmoil inside me. I could not trust myself to speak to you coherently or without great passion. I am sorry if I upset you.”

She shook her head, “No, my lord, it is perfectly alright. I merely wondered at it that was all.” He nodded.

Then he looked at her, holding her hand in his, “You know when I think back on all the time we have know each other, I know now that I have loved you from the first.”

She blushed a little now but he continued, “It is true. Those moments when I realised you might have come to harm were when I felt it most. The dance in Minas Tirith..” She gasped a little and looked away as he spoke. “Forgive me, but you must know I was desperate then when I thought you might be harmed. I am only glad I was there to help you.”

She nodded, looking back at him, “And so am I, my lord.”

“When you fell from Dunnwair and you did not move.. Ai, my lady, that was the worst cut of all. I knew in that moment what you meant to me.”

She looked at him and could see his eyes wet, and she held a hand to his face and stroked his cheek, “Then thank the Valar I was safe.”

He nodded, “I do. I do every day, Fuineth. Truly I do.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently. “In Edoras I felt it too.”

She looked at him now, uncertain as to whether she wanted him to talk about such things.

“That morning when you readied Dunnwair and were leaving. I could see you had been crying. I guessed what had occurred. My rage was such I could barely contain myself if truth be told.”

She looked astonished, “You were there my lord?”

He nodded, smiling now, “You did not see us? Aragorn, Gimli and I were all outside the Meduseld. They did not see you, but I did. I did not realise at first what you were doing. It was only when you mounted and rode down the hill that I realised you were leaving, or attempting to do so. I was about to leap down the stairs and stop you when your brother came out shouting after you.”

She smiled now, “You would have stopped me?”

“Of course. Without a moment’s hesitation.”

There was a pause as she looked at him, “But that would have meant you explaining how you knew me, how you knew why I was leaving, would it not? You would have done that for me?”

He nodded, smiling at her still, “Of course. Just as you allowed yourself to be forced from Edoras for my sake, so I would have allowed my shame to be known for yours.”

She embraced him then, pressing her face into his chest and holding him round his waist.

He stroked her hair. “Did you not realise that even then I felt for you? How much you had moved my heart by the kindness you had shown me?” He pulled her away from him so he could look into her eyes, “I still burn with rage for what was done to you. I knew. I guessed. But when I heard it in Osgiliath...” His voice trailed off and his eyes were dark and blazing now.

Fuineth was looking down once more, “I tried to tell her.”

He could hear her voice shaking. “Tell her?”

“That morning. I tried to tell her, to explain what she had done.” He felt his jaw tighten and he pulled her close to him once more as she continued, “I knew she had used too much. I tried to explain... She wouldn’t listen, would not let me finish.”

He nodded and said quietly, “She could have killed me with the dose she gave me, did you know that?” He felt her stiffen slightly and then hold him tighter still.

She said quietly, “No. I knew she had made you very ill, but not that.”

He felt the rage burn stronger within in him now. So she had been told all that long ago and she had not wanted to hear. It made her behaviour in Osgiliath seem all the more outrageous. “I will have my revenge,” he said, his voice quiet with his anger, “For your sake as much as my own.”

She looked up at him now, the tears still wet upon her cheek. “Revenge? But how?”

He looked at her, not sure he should have said anything. He flushed a little now. And she pulled back further from him, catching a glimpse of the embarrassment in his eye.

“My lord?”

She was smiling a little now. She had not seen him look quite so ill at ease before.

He coughed, went a bit pinker and then mumbled, “It was the Queen’s idea.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “Queen Undomiel’s? What was her idea?”

He looked at her, closed his eyes and sighed, “You might be shocked by what I am about to say, but you needs must know.”

Even his ears had gone pink by now. She was intrigued. “Very well, my lord, I shall prepare myself.” And she straightened her back a little, dropped her gaze and put on her most serious face. Legolas laughed, and she smiled.

“Well, let me start with this question. How did your brother know about the effect of oak leaves on elves, or even our ears?”

It was her turn to blush now and he smiled to see it.

“Now, Lady Fuineth, we are to be married and in marriage there should be no secrets, no shame, no shyness,” he laughed.

She could not look at him, but she said quietly, “I think you might be able to guess, my lord.”

He laughed once more, “I think I can, indeed it appears his experiences are common knowledge in Rivendell so I hear from Elladan and Elrohir!”

She looked up at him now, mouth open, “What?! Túveren would be mortified!”

Legolas laughed, “Not at all. Such is the way of things, is it not?”

He held her hand and spoke more gently now, “Well, Fuineth, while your brother told you of such things..” he noticed the flush deepen on her cheek as he spoke, “..did he ever mention something called the Cauldron Ceremony?”

There was a pause.

She looked puzzled.

Legolas could feel himself blushing furiously now and was not sure which he would prefer: that she did not know and he could explain in just general terms, or that she would know and he would not have to say anything at all.

She looked at him, her brows still furrowed, “I am sure I have heard of it, my lord, but I cannot remem..”

He watched as her expression changed from one of puzzlement to realisation and then turned bright red as she hurriedly dropped her gaze.

He decided that this was probably better than his having to explain it.

Her voice came quiet, “You were to invite her to this?”

“Yes.”

“And this was the Queen’s idea?”

“Yes. She was as angry as I was, as you were and are, Lady Fuineth. Were it not for the fact that everything would have been made public she would have wished for her to have been publically shamed then and there in Osgiliath when it all came out.”

Fuineth nodded. She could see how it would make Eowyn understand the enormity of what she had done.

Then she suddenly realised something. When her gaze met Legolas’s he could see a slight distance in her eyes and he grew concerned.

“You were planning to take part in this yourself, my lord?”

Her voice was matter of fact but this was a problem and he knew it.

“Well, yes, but as host I would have to...”

She snorted, and he raised his eyebrows. This wasn’t going well.

“..And added to which, at the time we.. I was.. we were not about to marry, Fuineth,” he ended, trying to sound as gentle as he could. He knew this was going to be difficult to explain. She nodded though she would not look at him and held her hands tight in her lap.

“Fuineth,” he raised her chin so he could see her eyes which were tear-filled and full of hurt, “It is absolutely out of the question now. You must know that. It will still take place, but I will not be a part of it. Her lesson will still be learned.”

She said nothing and he put his arms around her, kissing her on her brow as he did so.

“Forgive me, my lady, I perhaps should have explained things better. I did not mean to upset you.” He pulled back a little to look at her as he continued, “Know you are the only one I have ever loved; the only one to have moved my heart. Gerich ‘úr nîn, Fuineth. Si a ui. Bain nín. Meleth nín.”

She looked up at him, her face glowing with pleasure. She knew he had just used a phrase, in Sindarin, from the Quenya elvish wedding promise.

“A hir bain, gerethin ant lîn ned inden sui mîr. Le annon inden, si a ui. Non melethrin lín, Legolas.”

He gasped in pleasure. It was the first time she had managed to call him simply ‘Legolas’ without him prompting her, and what she had said to him had moved him deeply.

He kissed her then. Passionately.

He held her face in his hands and plundered her lips with his till she felt faint. As his hand crept round her neck to bunch into her hair she could feel his tongue against her mouth as her lips parted, grazing against her tongue slightly till at last her released her, gazing into her eyes once more.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” was all he said before he held her close to him once more.

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The next morning as she was readying to leave, a knock came upon her chamber door. “Come in,” she said and turned to see who it was.

Legolas bowed slightly, “Lady Fuineth. Forgive my intrusion, but I wished to give you this before you leave. You promised me, did you not, and it would please me greatly if you are still willing to do so.” He was holding out a green tunic to her, of the style he wore when traveling and riding.

She nodded and smiled, taking it from him. “Of course, my lord, I shall pack it straight away so it is not forgotten.”

He stepped towards her and took her hand, then taking the tunic from her and throwing it behind her onto the bed, he put his arms around her. He kissed her on the tip of her nose.

“I shall miss you, you know, even though I know we shall see each other once more in a few days time. Those days will be the longest I have ever known, I know it.”

She laughed and stroked his cheek, “I will miss you too, but as you say will shall see each other soon enough, my lord.”

He groaned, “Will you not call me ‘Legolas’, Fuineth? Please, I beg you.”

She blushed a little, “Forgive me. It takes a little getting used to.” She looked up at him, “Legolas.”

He grinned and turned his head to kiss her fingers. “Better. Much better. Now you had better finish readying, the others are already making their way outside and the horses are ready.”

She nodded. He did not move. She laughed.

“You will have to release me if I am to pack away your tunic, my lor... Legolas.”

He grinned, “I know. But just one moment more, I beg you.”

She smiled as he kissed her, pulling her even closer to him as his arms wrapped tighter around her waist. Her hands ran into his hair and round his neck as they embraced and then separated.

He grinned and walked over to the door. “Yes, I will miss you very much.”

When she came out of the halls she found Dunnwair already saddled. Legolas and his stewards were saying their farewells to the guests. Elladan and Elrohir were already mounted. Fuineth embraced many of the elves she had got to know well during her stay, and others kissed her hand.

She swiftly climbed in the saddle and turned to find Legolas on Arod beside her. Seeing her surprise he smiled, “I will walk with you to the edge of the forest.” She smiled. And as they set off the two hung back a little, walking their steeds quietly side by side as they had done now so many times during her stay.

All too soon it seemed to them the trees began to thin and at last they reached open ground. Legolas called his farewells to the group, embraced Aragorn once more atop his horse and they set off toward the fords at Osgiliath.

Fuineth hesitated, turning in her saddle to look at him once more. Legolas drew Arod beside her so they were now so close their legs were touching. He held out his hand for hers.

“I will see you soon, Fuineth.”

She nodded, struggling to hold back the tears, “Le darthathon, Legolas.”

He smiled. “Do not cry, meleth nín, let me remember you smiling in these next few days apart.” He leant forward to her, and she to him, and they kissed one last time. “Navaer, Fuineth.”

“Navaer, Legolas.”

She urged Dunnwair forward, trotting to catch up with others already a little way ahead. When she had joined them she turned to see the tall figure astride his horse watching her as she left. They neared a hill and some trees about which the path bent, and she turned one last time. The figure raised his hand to her, and she raised hers in return as Dunnwair took her past the hill and they were lost to each others’ sight.


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gerich ‘úr nîn = you have my heart

si a ui = now and always

bain nin = my beautiful (one)

meleth nín = my love

a hir bain = o beautiful lord

gerethin ant lîn ned inden sui mîr = I shall hold your gift in my heart like a treasure

le annon inden = I give you my heart

non melethrin lín = I (f) love you

hiril nin = my lord

le darthathon = I will wait for you


Chapter 21 - Tuveren's Marriage

Chapter 20 ~ Túveren’s wedding


Once she returned to Minas Tirith Fuineth was busy helping with her brother and Elsbeth’s wedding preparations and the days flew past. The celebrations were to be held in the Citadel since the King and Queen were to be present as well as many other nobles. The Queen’s brothers had agreed to stay for it, many of the Dúnedain who had ridden with the Grey Company were coming south, Gimli and Legolas of course would be there as well as the entire company of the Citadel Guard and one or two close friends of Túveren’s from Rohan. That Lord Faramir would be bringing Lady Eowyn with him was the only dampener on the entire proceedings for Fuineth.

As soon as she returned and was able to have a few minutes alone with her brother Fuineth pulled him to one side.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

He looked at her, smiling, “What is it?”

“Come on,” and she dragged him off by the hand till they were in a small antechamber away from prying eyes.

She turned to him, beaming from ear to ear. He was desperate to know what all this was about. She came over to him and then pulled him to sit beside her on a bench by the window.

“Túveren. I have something to tell you.”

He waited. Still nothing. “Well, sister, what is it? I think I shall burst with curiosity if you do not tell me what on earth has got into you!”

She grinned, “Well. You know that Lord Legolas will now be able to attend your wedding?”

“Yes...” He looked at her sideways, now with a suspicion as to what all this might be about.

“Well, when he comes he will want to speak to you. To ask you for my hand.”

He grinned, “Fuineth! Is it true?” He gasped and, standing up, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her. “That’s fantastic! Wonderful news! Truly, I happy for you, happy for you both!”

She was beaming. “So you will not refuse him then?”

He spluttered. “What?! Of course not!” and he laughed loud and hugged her again.

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Túveren and Elsbeth’s wedding was due to take place eight days after Fuineth arrived back at Minas Tirith. Legolas had arranged to arrive some two days before it.

Fuineth was in her chambers, preparing herself and feeling ridiculously nervous when he and his stewards arrived in the Place of the Fountain. Túveren and Orodor came out to meet them.

Meanwhile Fuineth heard a knock at her door and before she could reply Mirriel and Gwenneth burst in with a “He’s here!” and much excited giggling. The three raced through corridors and down stairs till at last they reached the main entrance to the White Tower where they slowed and caught their breath.

Gwenneth and Mirriel hung back a little as Fuineth stopped, seeing him conversing with his stewards, Túveren and Orodor by the white tree. As she stood there in the doorway for a moment he looked up, saw her and smiled. Even as she ran towards him he was already moving away from the others to her, not even bothering to excuse himself.

As she reached him he caught her in his arms and spun her round, both of them laughing, oblivious to those around them. He lowered her to the ground, never taking his eyes off her, kissed her quickly and grinned.

“Aiya, hîril nín.”

“Aiya, hir nín.”

She hugged him and then pulled away from him to greet Naril and the other steward. Meanwhile Mirriel and Gwenneth came to greet the new arrivals also.

Servants arrived to take their baggage and show them to their rooms. Túveren was grinning as he watched Fuineth and Legolas walk arm in arm back to the White Tower.

Orodor had managed to get his eyebrows back under control and murmured to Túveren, “Is that another wedding in the making?”

Túveren’s grin widened, “Yes indeed, Orodor, I believe it is.”


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After they had been shown their chambers the three elves made their way to the Throne Room to formally greet the royal couple. Afterwards they mingled amongst the various guests and dignitaries there till the midday meal was served.

After it, when people were socialising in an antechamber, Legolas tapped Túveren on the shoulder and took him to one side.

“Túveren, I wish to talk to you about something.”

Túveren nodded and moved over to the far end of the room where a door led to a small chamber.

“We’ll go in here. No-one will disturb us and we will be able to talk freely.” Legolas nodded.

Túveren closed the doors behind him and turned to Legolas, his face split by a wide grin. Legolas took one look at him and said, “I take it your sister has spoken to you, then?”

“Indeed she has, and I have been told in no uncertain terms how I am to behave and what my answer should be.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow and they both laughed.

“Then you know what I would ask, my friend. I love her. I love with all my heart and, as you now know, we wish to marry if we have your permission. You know me well enough I trust to know that I will cherish her more than life itself, and that I would never let any harm come to her.”

Túveren nodded, “Of course. You do not need to convince me. You have my blessing. I could not have chosen better for her myself.”

Legolas embraced him warmly, “I thank you my friend.”

Túveren smiled, “I know it must have been a hard decision for you. For you both. I know a little of how Fuineth was feeling after you left Minas Tirith last though she would not tell me much, in truth, but it was clear enough. I am glad you have made this decision. I am happy for you both.”

Legolas nodded his gratitude at his friend’s kind words.

Fuineth had seen them disappear together and though she was trying to concentrate on the conversation around her she kept looking back to the closed door at the end of the room. At last she saw it open and the two emerge, grinning. Túveren came to join the general company but Legolas, catching sight of her, smiled and nodded. She came over to him and they moved to one side.

“Well, it is done and your brother has agreed. We are betrothed.”

She beamed.

“Would you be free for a walk, perhaps? There is something I wish to give you, Fuineth.”

She nodded and they made their way arm in arm from the chamber, down the corridors and out into the fresh air. Legolas lead her to the garden overlooking the Pelennor where they had first spent their private moments together after the War. It was a place that held special significance for him now.

They walked a little while in silence till they reached the wall overlooking the city. Legolas spoke.

“Do you remember that first walk we took together here, hîril nín?”

She nodded, looking out at the vista below as she replied, “I do indeed, my lord. Every time I come here now I see the places you pointed out to me then.”

He smiled, remembering how he had seen her then, standing with the chill wind blowing in her hair and how he had first realised how beautiful she was.

“Fuineth?”

She turned to him.

“I have something for you. Something dear to me that I hope you will accept as a token of my love for you, as a betrothal gift.”

She smiled, shyly, beaming with pleasure. He held out to her a silver ring, of simple design, if intricate and delicately shaped, with a single white jewel at its centre that shone and glinted in the sun. Fuineth gasped.

“It is beautiful, Legolas.”

He smiled and lifted her hand to put the ring on her middle finger. “It was my mother’s,” he said simply.

She looked up at him and brought her hand to his face to trace the line of his cheekbone with her fingertips. She lifted her head towards him and he met and matched her kiss.

“Hannaid, hir nín. Truly you have made me happier than I ever thought possible,” she murmured as he held her. She moved away, holding his hand. “I have something for you too.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“But of course. It is the custom among the elves, is it not, for gifts to be exchanged on a betrothal?”

He smiled and nodded, “Yes, hîril nín, that is so.”

“Well, I have something for you also. I was only sorry I did not have it with me in Ithilien since I decided then what I would give you. I do not have it with me here. It is in my chambers. Will you walk with me while I fetch it, or would you prefer to wait?”

He shook his head, “No, I will walk with you and enjoy your company, Fuineth, if you will allow me.”

She smiled, “Good. I had hoped that would be your answer.” He laughed.

On reaching her chambers she went straight to a dresser and pulled open a small draw in which was a leather bag. In it were a ring and a broken bracelet chain. She took out the ring and turned to present it to Legolas but saw that he was standing by her window examining his tunic which he had seen was hung over the back of a chair, the embroidery on it half completed. He nodded his approval as he examined the collar, already patterned by her work, and smiled up at her.

“It is beautiful, Fuineth, even better than I had hoped. It will be a fine riding jacket when you are done.”

She beamed, “Thankyou, Legolas.”

He came over to her and took the hand she was holding out to him and then stood gazing down at her holding her round her waist. She proffered him the ring shyly.

“Forgive me, Legolas, I do not possess many such things, indeed this is near enough all I have, but it is, like your gift to me, very dear to me. It was my father’s and was a gift to me from my mother. I would like you to have it as a token of our betrothal.”

Legolas smiled, touched to receive such a gift. He turned it over in his hand and admired it greatly since it was a thing of great craftsmanship and clearly elvish. It was also silver with a polished green oval stone at its’ centre.

“It is a thing of beauty, Fuineth. Hannaid, meleth nín,” he murmured and he kissed her once more.

As they made their way down to the general company he admired it once more, now on the little finger of his right hand.

“How did your father come by it, do you know? It is elvish, that much is obvious.”

She shook her head, “I do not know. Túveren might, though I doubt it. He would have told me if he did I think. My mother said it was given to my father by a close friend of his, an elf I believe, as a token of the bond between them. She said it came from Doriath.”

Legolas looked at her, his eyes wide.

Fuineth smiled, “I thought it even more appropriate for you because of that, my lord, given what you have told me of your history.”

He kissed her cheek. “I am touched. Thank you, Fuineth.”

She smiled once more, glad that he was clearly as pleased with his gift as she was with hers. They took one another’s hands and entered the antechamber once more.


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The wedding preparations were becoming frantic. Guests began to arrive in Minas Tirith from that same day that Legolas also arrived. Fuineth and Legolas had little time to see each other alone, but would take a few moments to walk together or talk quietly in some darkened corridor. Arwen and Aragorn were both amongst the first to congratulate them. Fuineth and Legolas had told each other the part these two had played in helping them come to a decision about their future. Later that evening, though, Gimli arrived with two dwarves from his holds and he, Legolas and Aragorn spent a good deal of time closeted away from the rest so Fuineth was able to not feel so guilty about being too busy to see much of Legolas.

The day of the wedding arrived. Fuineth was with Elsbeth helping her dress and do her hair. Mirriel, Gwenneth and Elsbeth’s mother were there also. The Citadel was thronging with guests and the smells of roasting meats and pastries had set everyone’s stomachs rumbling.

A knock came on the door.

“Ladies? Are you ready? Everyone is waiting.” Orodor had come to hurry them along.

Gwenneth came to the door and let him in saying, “We are done. We were just waiting to be sent for.”

Orodor stood in the doorway amazed. “Elsbeth you look beautiful.,” and in truth she did.

She blushed. Her dress, of a pale blue and intricately patterned with silver embroidery that they had all helped work on fitted her perfectly. She had early spring flowers in her golden hair and the sash Fuineth had made for her was slung about her hips. She wore a silver beaded necklace of her mother’s that glinted and caught the sunlight through the window.

“Doesn’t she?” murmured her mother, who came forward to hug her daughter. “There now! I promised I wouldn’t cry and I have started already. Come, Elsbeth, your Túveren awaits you.”

The party started towards the great hall where it would all take place. Elsbeth took her brother’s arm and Fuineth and the others followed behind. A murmur went round the room as they entered and all eyes were on Orodor and his sister. Fuineth, spotting Legolas with Gimli in the crowd, moved round to them to stand beside Legolas as Orodor led Elsbeth over to Túveren who was rooted to the spot so transfixed was he by the sight of his bride.

Soon enough it was done. A great cheer went up as Túveren kissed his wife and then the feast began. As they moved to take their places, Gimli took hold of Fuineth’s arm.

“I have had little opportunity to see you, my lady, since I arrived. I have congratulated Legolas on your news but not you. I am most pleased and gratified he has finally decided to settle down at last. And to such a fair lass as you. He has chosen well, indeed.”

She smiled and coloured a little, “You are too kind Lord Gimli. I thank you.”

“What’s he saying to you?” laughed Legolas.

“Merely congratulating me on our betrothment, Legolas.”

“Do you not trust me to speak fair enough with your chosen one, Master Elf? Hrmh!” Gimli grumbled, though his eyes twinkled, “Or are you worried at the stories I might tell her about you?”

Legolas laughed all the more and threw his arm around Gimli’s shoulder, “Well she currently has a high opinion of me, or so I would hope, and I wish it to stay that way.”

Fuineth raised an eyebrow at Legolas, “So there are things I needs must know about you, my lord? This is news.”

Gimli chuckled, “Well I think we can remedy that, can we not, my lady? I am here for a few days yet.” Legolas was trying to make light of this but there was a look of worry now in his eyes which merely goaded his friend further. “With Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn all here too I think we can find enough stories between us all to keep Lady Fuineth amused and you blushing for several weeks to come.”

Legolas shook his head and groaned, “I knew it was a mistake inviting you here!”

Gimli just laughed.

The revelries went on late into the night, though Túveren and his new bride left in the early evening. Fuineth kissed them both and cried once more as she came to see them off. Lord Faramir and Lord Anardor had congratulated both Fuineth and Legolas on their news. Lady Eowyn, Fuineth noted with some disgust, was studiously avoiding both of them. Fuineth had been pleased also to see the Dúnedain and that Calloneb, Halbarad’s younger brother, was among them. He had greeted her warmly and had also been delighted by her news. Her aunt had been unable to come due to ill-health, but her cousin was here with several of the Rohirrim including Lord Elfhelm. Fuineth thoroughly enjoyed herself, if truth be told, Eowyn or no Eowyn.

At last, late in the evening after having danced non-stop for nearly an hour, half of that with Legolas, he suggested a rest and some air. She agreed freely and they made their way out into the courtyard and down to the gardens. He had his arm about her shoulder and hers was around his waist.

“Just think, Fuineth, that will be us soon enough, will it not?”

She laughed, “I have been thinking the very same thing all day.”

He stopped and turned to her. “When, Fuineth? When do you wish to marry?”

She considered. “In truth I do not know. I had assumed you would decide not that I would choose.” She paused. “You need to speak to your father first, do you not?”

His face clouded suddenly, “Yes. Yes I do.”

She looked at him, concerned by the change in his expression. “Do you fear he may not approve, my lord?”

He looked at her, kindness in his eyes, and stroked her cheek as he loved to do. “I know he will not. But, you need not fear, that will not stop me. If I married all but a Sindarin elf he would not approve, and even then he would grumble.”

She laughed softly. “Is he really such a tyrant?”

Legolas sighed, “No, but he has his views and they will not change. I think in some ways I was like him when I first joined the Fellowship. The journey I went on, the different races I have met, my friendship with Gimli above all else I think, have meant I see things very differently from him now. He is my adar, and he has my admiration, love and respect always, but there are some things upon which we will never see eye to eye.”

“So what do you intend to do? Will you travel to Eryn Lasgalen?”

He nodded, “Yes I think so. I have to. Out of courtesy and respect. He will not change my decision, but he must be made to feel party to it. And, if I have your brother’s leave, I shall take you with me.”

Fuineth gasped. “Me?”

Legolas laughed, “But of course. He needs must meet you. Indeed by meeting you himself I hope to convince him of how right you are for me.” He paused, and then said quietly, “I was thinking we might marry there in my father’s halls.” She smiled, as he continued, “My first choice would be Ithilien but my father should be there and I cannot ask him to travel south when I can just as easily travel to him. I will speak to Túveren about it, though, and probably Aragorn and Gimli tomorrow. I would wish them all to be there if they can, though I fear that may not be possible. We shall see.”

He had moved his arms about her waist as he had spoken and she now looked up at him, both her hands resting on his chest. “I am worried now, about meeting your father. I fear he will not like me.”

“Nonsense. He will love you, just as I do. He will love you even if he doesn’t approve of my marrying you. How could he not love you?” She smiled. “Besides there is one thing you have forgotten, or else not realised in all this.”

She looked at him, curious.

He smiled, “It means we will have to pass through Lorien, where you have always wished to go.”

Her eyes widened and he was pleased to see her smile broadly at this news and then hug him about the neck.

“Oh Legolas. How wonderful. To go to Lorien and then to see the place where you grew up. I cannot wait!”


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It would be a three week journey North to reach Eryn Lasgalen, with the fair weather and fast horses they would have. Gimli agreed to travel with them straight away but while Aragorn would have wished to, he had responsibilities and he asked for a day or two to consider what he would do. Both he and Arwen had talked of traveling North to Rivendell before the summer and they now discussed whether they could, or should, travel to King Thranduil’s Halls first. Elrond would travel to the Grey Havens at the beginning of the autumn and they wanted to spend at least two months there with him before he left.

Legolas needed to be back in Ithilien by Loëndë (midyear’s day) since this was the date set for the Cauldron Ceremony and was an important day of celebration not only among the elves but also for most races of Middle Earth. He wished to give his father as much notice as possible for the impending nuptials, so the best time for the wedding was early summer or very late spring: in about two months.

Eventually it was agreed that Legolas and Fuineth would set off in just over three weeks’ time with Túveren, Gimli, Naril and Elsbeth accompanying them now that Túveren’s planned trip to Rohan was delayed till later in the year. Aragorn and Arwen would possibly come North just in time for the ceremony and then would head on over the mountains to Rivendell.

Legolas had sent a messenger to his father the same day the betrothal had happened. He now sent another informing his father of when he was expecting to arrive at his father’s halls, the length of time he was thinking of staying, and that he wished to marry while he was there.

He received no reply from either message.

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hannaid, hir nín = thanks, my lord

hîril nín = my lady


Chapter 22 - To Lothlorien

Chapter 21 ~ To Lothlorien


Three or four days after Túveren’s marriage Legolas, with his stewards and Gimli accompanying him, returned to Ithilen to make arrangements there both for while he was away and also for his return since he would, of course, be bringing the Lady of the Halls with him when he next saw them again and the very thought thrilled him. In Ithilien there was much excitement (though little surprise) at his news. A week and a half later he returned, Naril and Gimli with him once more, to collect his bride-to-be, her brother and his wife and set out North a few days later.

Túveren had been against Elsbeth coming on the journey at first but she had refused point blank in his leaving her behind so soon after they were married, nor would she hear of him staying with her and not attending his own sister’s wedding. As Fuineth had always said, Elsbeth was a strong character who knew her own mind and Túveren had little choice but give in to her.

They made good time, passing as soon as they could over the Entwash and then heading North over the East Emnet and then the Wold. Far to the West the dark green of Fangorn nestled against the feet of the mountains.

Legolas said to Fuineth, “I shall take you there on our return, meleth nín.”

He and Gimli both pointed out landmarks on the way: places in the distance that they had traversed in their hunt for the hobbits.

At last, eight days after leaving Minas Tirith, they crossed the Limlight and set up camp for the night. Lorien was a day’s ride ahead of them. Naril and Túveren started a fire while Elsbeth and Fuineth prepared the food. After their meal, Legolas took Fuineth for a walk so they could have a little time alone. There was a copse on some higher ground nearby and they headed in there, relishing the darkness and privacy it gave them.

Hand in hand they walked in silence till at last they reached a clearing, almost a hill, in the middle of the group of trees. The sky was clear and the moonlight shone bright on the rocks and grass here. Flowers, newly blossomed now spring was come, were visible among the stones.

Fuineth hitched her skirts and ran up the slope, standing at the top, eyes closed, basking in the moonlight. The smell of the wood was all around her and the air crisp and clear. Legolas joined her and stood behind her wrapping his arms about her. She leaned back into him so her head was against his shoulder. He kissed her cheek. They both gazed out at the moon, still low in the sky above the trees.

“I am so looking forward to seeing Lorien at last,” Fuineth said finally.

Legolas smiled, “I know.”

“Do you remember when you first described it to me? That day by the Anduin? I have dreamed of going ever since then.”

He nodded. “I know,” he repeated.

She turned in his arms, then, looking up at him and he could see her eyes glinting with excitement. It gladdened his heart to know that by such a simple thing – they had to pass through Lorien as it was – he was able to please her so much.

“Thank you, Legolas.”

He smiled, “You are welcome, Fuineth. From that time I described it to you, even though then we had decided nothing would occur between us, I still held in my heart a secret hope I might bring you there one day.”

She smiled, “You have never told me that before.”

He grinned, “There are many things I have not told you yet, Fuineth.”

She laughed, “Yes, so I realise,” and she grinned mischievously before adding, “But I do not think you would have *ever* told me of ‘the barrel incident’!”

Legolas flushed, “What?! How do you..?” Then he glowered, “Gimli!”

She laughed again, “Actually it was King Elessar, but it was Gimli who reminded him of it.”

Legolas shook his head and groaned, “Ai, I dread to think what else they have told you. What they were repeating in my presence was bad enough.”

“Not as much as you might think, my lord. Indeed most of the time they were singing your praises to me, not that they needed to.” Her voice was softer now and she had her hand on his cheek as she smiled up at him. “Much of what they told me concerned the War but also of other times, other kindnesses or bravery you have shown. Nothing they told me surprised me, if I did not know the stories already. I loved you long ago precisely because I could see those things in you.”

He smiled and bent down to meet her mouth. His lips moved against hers, rhythmically now, pressing his open mouth against hers again and again as her lips parted to him. He kissed first one reddened lip then the other, near sucking on them, till he could hear her moan quietly in her throat.

Elbereth, how that sound, heard for the first time, spurred him on!

He lightly traced the space between her parted lips with his tongue, then grazed her teeth with it. He could feel hers come to meet his and give him the permission he sought. He pushed his mouth on hers now, tongues fighting, as they tasted and savoured each other for the first time. He kissed her deeply, showing her his passion and love for her, holding her tightly round her back while his other hand grasped her neck through her hair, and she returned his passion, both her hands around him now, clutching at him as if she would have him closer to her if she could.

Eventually, after languidly taking one of her lips into his mouth once more, he tenderly kissed her full on the mouth, then the chin, her cheek, her jaw. Feathery kisses tracing along her jawbone till he found her ear and nipped the lobe there. He could hear her breath, ragged, in his ear and feel it against his neck. He moved lower, to that spot just below the ear at the top of the neck and kissed, tenderly but fully, and heard her gasp. He stayed there, pressing his lips against it, grazing his tongue and teeth on the spot and relishing her breathy gasps and the feel of her arms tightly about him. He slowly kissed a line back along her jaw and to her mouth once more and was taken aback by the passion there which met his soft kiss. She pressed her mouth against his in a way he had never known her to before. In the end she responded to his softness: the tempo slowed and he was able to kiss her lightly and look at her at last.

What he saw set his heart racing.

Her breath was shallow and quickened, her cheeks flushed, her pupils large and dark, and she was biting her bottom lip as she looked at him and struggled to control the feelings rising within her. The sight of her teeth holding her lip and the ragged breath she then drew in excited him beyond belief.

“Ai, Elbereth,” he murmured.

She looked at him as he held a hand against her neck and gently dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, then kissed it, then looked at her once more. He did not want to move, nor release his arms from around her. He loved the look upon her face, to see the excitement in her, though of a very different kind now than any he had seen in her before, and know that it was because of him and the very little, in truth, that he had done to her.

“Meleth nín,” he whispered into her ear as he pulled her head against his chest.

“I love you,” she replied into his shoulder.

At last they moved, realising they had been away some time and the others would be wondering where they were. As they walked back through the trees Legolas stopped briefly to look at her once more. She smiled, a little shyly, as he took the hand he was holding and tenderly kissed first the fingertips then her palm, both of them silently acknowledging the passion they had shared just now and revealed to each other for the first time. He grinned and pulled her to him so that they walked back to the others with their arms about each other.


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They were expected at Lorien and were met on its’ borders just after sundown the next day by Rúmil and Haldir. They dismounted and led their horses from then on to join the two Galadhrim on foot. As they walked through the tall, grey trunks the first few fallen golden leaves of spring lay scattered on the ground, though the boughs were yet to fill with their yellow flowers. Túveren, his wife and sister remained silent as they walked nearer to the wood’s heart, so overawed were they at its beauty.

At last they reached the white paved road with the trench and wall of trees on one side. Coming from the South as they were they soon reached the bridge and the gates to Calas Galathon beyond and Fuineth gasped in wonder at their beauty. Haldir knocked and spoke, the gates were opened and they entered. They walked for some time before they were met by some elves who took their horses for them. The four elves now walked in front, leading the other four along paths and up stairs till they reached somewhere near the centre of the city. Fuineth found herself so overcome she could not speak. At last they reached a clearing where some awnings had been set up with food and cushions.

“Please take some refreshment,” said Haldir, “I shall inform Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of your arrival.”

They nodded and thanked him.

Fuineth could not eat but instead wandered away a little from the rest gazing up into the trees that towered high above her. Her hand trailed lightly against the bole of a trunk as she walked, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

Legolas, concerned to see her so distracted, watched her from where he sat. As she disappeared from his view he stood to follow her. At first he could not see her then spotted her, a little distance away now, seated by the side of a nearby stream. He approached quietly, not wishing to disturb her, but quickened his pace when he saw her shoulders shaking and heard her sobs.

He crouched down beside her.

“Fuineth? Fuineth, meleth nín? Amman nallach, Fuineth nín?”

She reached out for him and he held her, still not knowing what all this was about, as she wept into his neck. At last she pulled back to look at him, tears streaming down her face.

“It is so beautiful here.”

His brow was still furrowed and he was utterly at a loss as to the cause of her distress. “Fuineth? Tell me what ails you, my love.”

She shook her head and turned away from him now, spreading one arm wide to indicate everything around her while holding his hand in hers, “All this. All this beauty and wonder. It will go. It will fade. There will be no elves on Middle Earth. Man will no longer know their song, their beauty, the light they spread.” She was sobbing again, “Soon children will be born who will never know the gifts that elves could teach us. They will go West,” she turned to him now, “*You* will go West. And the rest will fade till they are no more. It will all be lost.” She pulled her hand from his and dropped her head into her hands, “And you will lose me. You will go West but I will not come with you. I am sorry. I am so sorry, Legolas. I wish so much that you would not have to go through that for my sake.”

He was weeping as he listened to her, moved by what she was saying but sharing her sorrow also. He folded his arms about her and kissed her hair, “Ai Fuineth. It is what was written. Some might say the elves should never have stayed, or once gone should never had returned. Perhaps we stayed overlong.” He took her face and turned it so she might look at him, “You grieve for a loss you cannot change, nor can I. It was inevitable the moment we won the War, and if we had not... well then it would not have mattered. Be happy, Fuineth, that you at least have had a chance to experience something of it, that you are here, here in Lothlorien before the Lady leaves and its light begins to fade.” She nodded, unable to speak. “And as for me, Fuineth, do not weep for me. We battled long and hard against it but we have decided. *I* have decided. Nor will I be swayed. And *never* will I regret it. Yes, I will lose you..,” and she looked up at him, shocked to hear him say it so bluntly, but he smiled, sadly, the tears falling now and his voice thick with emotion. “Yes, my love, I will lose you, and I cannot bear to think of it, nor imagine how my heart will break, but I have you here with me now.”

And he held her face as he looked into her eyes and said in his own tongue, “I will have the memory of you in my heart to carry with me West and that I will never lose.” With a sob she threw her arms about him and they held each other while both wept silent tears.

At last he felt her growing calmer, and he pulled back a little to look at her. “Ai Fuineth,” and he shook his head at her, smiled, and kissed her tenderly for a little while feeling her tears still wet upon her cheek. When he felt her responding to him at last and knew she was more herself he stopped and turned slightly so he could put his arm around her shoulder and they were sat side by side beside the stream. She bent her head against his shoulder and neck.

After a little while she said quietly, “Forgive me, Legolas. I should not have reacted so. I distressed you, I know, and I am sorry.”

He kissed her head, “No, Fuineth. You moved my heart with your words, and you spoke truly. I understand your sorrow and feel it too as you well know.” He paused, and then held her once more, “That you can move me so is why I love you, meleth nín.”

When they walked back to join the others they found Haldir and both his brothers had joined them.

Haldir rose when he saw them approach, “Ah, at last. The Lord and Lady wish to see you now.”

They were led up stairs till Fuineth became near dizzy with the thought of how high up they must be. At last they reached the talan and the hall there and Fuineth had her first sight of one of the most beautiful and powerful elves in all Middle Earth. They were given warm welcome by the Lord and Lady. Galadriel was particularly gracious to Gimli who Fuineth was astonished to see blush to his ears at her words.

As they were greeted Fuineth heard Galadriel’s voice in her head.

“Do not fear. He will head West it is true, but he will never lose you from his heart. He will be grieved at the loss but glad beyond measure that he had this time with you. You both chose well. You both chose right.”

She could feel the tears well once more at her words and she wanted to thank her but knew not how. She looked towards her and it seemed to her that Lady Galadriel smiled and nodded her head as if acknowledging her unspoken gratitude.

Back on the ground once more they found bedding and more cushions were in the tents and awnings. Gimli, Fuineth, Túveren and Elsbeth were to stay here. Both Naril and Legolas were given talans on which to stay during their visit, and they would not be staying long, a few days at most.

That night, as she lay in her tent, the blankets under her chin, Fuineth considered what the Lady had said to her. Legolas had told her that she could speak without talking like that so she had not been surprised when it had happened even if it was a little unnerving. What had been said to her had pleased her much and had eased her heart greatly. She had not said anything to Legolas, was not sure if she should, though she knew not why. It was a private thing, somehow, even though it concerned him.

She would tell him. But not yet.

She smiled and had a peaceful sleep.


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Those few days in Lothlorien Fuineth spent entirely in Legolas’s company. Often Gimli was with them or they were with her brother, but they managed to get a lot of time also when they were entirely alone together. He showed her everywhere, it seemed to her, leading her up to talans, through paths, across streams, into glades. He was taking great delight in teaching her and showing her everything he had described to her so many times before so making her dream come true though it was so much greater than she ever could have imagined.

Legolas did wonder if the Lady had spoken to her and he was a little surprised that Fuineth had not said anything to him if that was the case but he did not press her since he was simply happy to see that the melancholy of when they had first arrived seemed entirely lifted from her.

Fuineth did not see the Lord or Lady of Lothlorien again till the last day. She and Legolas were summoned to them, though this time it was not formally in the halls but in a clearing on the forest floor.

As they entered the clearing Galadriel came forward and took Fuineth’s hand, “Come, my dear, and sit.”

Fuineth followed her and only once she was seated on a bench beside her did she realise Legolas was conversing with Lord Celeborn and the elf that had fetched them on the other side of the clearing.

Galadriel smiled at Fuineth, “Have you enjoyed your stay here?”

“Very much, I thank you, my lady. It has been an honour and a pleasure to visit the fair Caras Galadhon and to meet the Lady of the Wood.”

Galadriel nodded her head at the compliment, “You are most welcome.”

Fuineth was about to speak, then hesitated, and Galadriel looked at her, “I know what you would say, Fuineth, and there is no need to thank me. I only spoke what I saw in your heart and what I know will come to pass. You and Lord Legolas have chosen a difficult path, for him more so than for you, perhaps, as I know you are well aware. But what you will have together will be beautiful and worth having, even if but for a brief moment as it shall seem to him.”

Fuineth felt a tear roll down her cheek.

“Do not weep, my child. Be happy. You will give him the sweetest memories of his life and he will never regret his decision.”

“Thank you for your kind words, my lady. They move me much and give me great comfort.”

Galadriel smiled and nodded. “I called you here because I wished to give you a wedding gift if I may?”

Fuineth gasped, flushed, and looked up surprised. “My lady, you do me too much honour.”

Galadriel laughed, “No, indeed. Lord Legolas is a friend here and one of the Fellowship no less. He is to be honoured, as is his bride. Please, let me do this for you.”

Galadriel rose, offering her hand to Fuineth and she led her from the clearing and down some stairs cut into a slope nearby. The path wound round some trees and came at last to an awning strung between two trees under which a group of elves, all ladies-in-waiting, were sat chattering, sewing and weaving. They inclined their heads and greeted Fuineth warmly and she they. One or two she had met already during her stay and knew by name. Lady Galadriel spoke to one she knew and the elf stood and fetched something from a chest behind her. It was a garment, folded neatly and which Galadriel now presented to Fuineth.

“I trust it will fit, though I am sure it will. Please, take it. You have not had time, I know, to make a dress, nor will there be time in Eryn Lasgalen for one to be made that would be fitting enough. Here is one, if you will accept it, that you may wear.”

Fuineth was moved deeply by this gesture. She had worried about a dress and discussed it long with Elsbeth. They had come to the conclusion that she should take a good dress with her – one she had worn for a dance before – and perhaps hope she might find one in Eryn Lasgalen that would be better. To be given such a thing from the elves of Lothlorien, from Lady Galadriel herself indeed, was extraordinary and she was touched beyond measure. By this gesture, also, she fully understood the standing in which Legolas was held by all who knew him. She had not the words adequate to express her thanks. She did her best, but felt anything she could say was woefully inadequate. Lady Galadriel was gracious and kind, and after a while returned her to the glade and to Legolas.

As she and Legolas walked back to join the others he looked sideways at her.

“Why did Lady Galadriel wish to see you? And what is that you have with you?”

“A dress for me to wear at our wedding. It is a gift from her to me in honour of the elf I am to marry.”

He flushed in pleasure and embarrassment, “That is what she said to you?”

She nodded. He too was now moved beyond words and fell silent.

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melleth nín = my love

amman nallach?= why do you weep?


Chapter 23 - King Thranduil's Halls

Chapter 22 – King Thranduil’s Halls



Next morning they roused themselves, ate well and then set off once more. Orophin joined his brothers this time to see them off and walked with them to the far reaches of the wood on its Northern edge. Fuineth had tears in her eyes as she bade the Galadhrim and Lothlorien farewell.

The party mounted their horses, Gimli sitting behind Legolas as was their wont of old, and turned North. They skirted the lower edge of Greenwood, travelling to the East and keeping a distance from the wood by a league or more. That far south, though now clear of evil and part of Celeborn’s realm, there were too many memories of horrors for Naril and Legolas both. Naril had fought at Dol Goldur and he fell silent for the entire day that they took to sweep past the southern edge of Eryn Lasgalen (the Wood of the Greenleaves as it was now renamed) stirred by the memories and the loss.

Within a day or two they moved West once more to travel under the eaves of the trees, the two elves in particular revelling in being here again. Fuineth could see Legolas changing slightly as he came to places or neared others he had long known and were dear to his heart. It was still a joy to he and Naril both that they could travel through this forest without the constant fear of danger oppressing them. There remained evil remnants that stalked abroad but far less frequently now, their numbers ever depleting, and hiding mostly far to the North and East. Ever vigilant and alert, the two elves nevertheless delighted in taking their time savouring the smells and sounds of the wood around them.

At last, one morning, they reached the river and headed East towards King Thranduil’s Halls. Fuineth could feel herself getting nervous the nearer they got to it. Legolas had not said anything to her but she knew he was a little upset by the fact that no messenger had come from his father acknowledging his news. There had been plenty enough time, their route would have been well-known enough, for one to have found and reached him well before now.

No. That no messenger had found them meant no messenger was sent. Fuineth worried that this boded ill and she sensed Legolas felt the same.

Even as they rode Fuineth could now see faces in the shadows to either side. Soon there were excited shouts and giggles and then elves and several elflings stepped out to greet them and walk alongside them. Naril and Legolas were recognised immediately, and Gimli also by one or two, and the two elves stopped their horses and leapt down to return the greetings of their well-wishers and embrace one or two who were clearly old friends.

The others now dismounted also and the entire party, travellers and residents mixed, followed the hidden path that wound through the trees. Then they came to the bridge before the great gates of the cave of Thranduil’s Halls. The river was full and moving fast beneath them as them crossed it. Several of the elflings ran on ahead now as they came near, shouting and laughing the news of the Prince’s arrival to the guards and the rest of the palace, and the gates were swung open for them even as they reached the great beech trees on either side of them.

No sooner had they entered when elves came forward to take their steeds and lead them away from the cave and to the stables. Murmurs of greeting to Naril and Legolas from those around could be heard, and as the guards led them through the torch lit and paved tunnels, songs could be heard telling of the glad return of the King’s son.

Legolas felt for Fuineth’s hand and, glancing at her, he murmured, “Now at last will I show you my homeland, meleth nín.”

She smiled at the obvious delight this thought gave him.

They came to a series of corridors now off which there was a large antechamber. As they entered a tall blonde elf, in green and brown and with gems upon his collar, stood to meet them and greeted them warmly, Legolas in particular.

“Mae govannen, Legolas.” Then he turned to the others, “Well met indeed to these our guests, also. Gimli! A pleasure to see you once again.”

Gimli bowed low, “I thank you, Lord Elsilion. It pleases me greatly to be able to see fair Eryn Lasgalen once again.” The elf smiled graciously.

Legolas spoke, “Is everything arranged I trust? I had no word, nor knew till now my messages had arrived here telling of my journey. Have rooms been made ready?”

Elsilion nodded, “But of course, my lord. Your were expected indeed your father has been informed of your arrival and awaits you even now.”

As he spoke elves appeared at the doorway with their baggage. As the guests were led away to their chambers Legolas took Fuineth by the arm.

“I needs must see my father straight away. I will come and find you. There will be food and refreshment in one of the halls I would trust. Please, anything you need you ask, Fuineth.”

She smiled. “Thank you Legolas, I am sure your people will make me feel most welcome, indeed they already have,” she assured him.

He smiled, kissed her on the cheek and left, taking Naril and Elsilion with him.

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Legolas took a deep breath before he entered the Throne Room. He was not looking forward to this. He had been concerned by the lack of response from his father to his messages. The more he had let his mind dwell on it as they had travelled North, the more angry he had felt himself becoming and yet he knew he could not blame his father. Not that long ago he would have felt the same himself.

Naril and Elsilion entered with him and Thranduil looked up as they came in. He was in conversation to one side of the large chamber with several of his stewards. Legolas noticed he did not smile. Legolas and Naril bowed. Thranduil murmured Legolas’s name and inclined his head and then immediately addressed Naril.

“Naril, it is good to see you once again. You do not visit it us often enough. Have you forgotten us?”

Naril smiled, “No indeed, my liege. It cheers my heart to be home once more.”

“Ah, so this is still ‘home’. Good. Good.”

Thranduil had barely greeted his son, nor did it seem like he was going to. Elsilion had joined the stewards and Naril, sensing the atmosphere between the pair, now moved away also.

Legolas looked at his father levelly, and his father at him.

“Legolas. What can I say? It pleases me greatly to see you but I am shocked, in truth, at the circumstances.”

Legolas’s jaw tightened. “Father, shall we withdraw, perhaps? I do not wish to discuss this with you publicly.”

Thranduil tilted his head ever so slightly and stepped aside to indicate the door to one side of the throne and to allow his son passage past him. Legolas walked towards it brusquely and flung the door open, not bothering to turn and watch his father follow him into the antechamber.

There was a window cut in the far wall and Legolas went to it to stare out and still his rage. His father had not greeted him. Had barely acknowledged his presence. Worse he had done this in front of others, good friends, admittedly, but two of lesser station. Not that Legolas cared for such things but his father certainly did and it therefore could only be a deliberate slight on his father’s part and Legolas knew it.

He heard the soft click of the door being closed behind him. He did not turn.

“Wine?” his father was asking him.

He shook his head.

“Come now, Legolas. Let us talk about this reasonably. I realise I have upset you, but you have upset me. You must have known that. You cannot be surprised.”

Legolas turned now. “No. I am not surprised. I knew what to expect. You do not change. More is the pity.”

Thranduil said nothing but raised an eyebrow. He went to a cupboard and took a jug of wine and filled two cups. He held one out to his son.

“I did not want any,” Legolas growled.

Thranduil shrugged and placed it on the table in front of him as if to say, ‘Well if you change your mind’. He moved to a chair beside the fireplace and sipped at his wine, watching his son coolly for a moment. He almost sounded amused when he spoke at last.

“How else did you expect me to react, Legolas? Hmm? Why on earth would I be pleased that you have decided to marry a .. *mortal*?” He near spat the word, near shuddered as he did so.

Legolas’s jaw muscle was clenching but he forced himself not to think of his love for Fuineth but how he himself would have seen this situation even a year ago.

“I did not expect you to be pleased. I knew full well what your reaction would be. I would have felt the same, or something near to it, not so long ago were I in your place.” Thranduil smiled and nodded his approval at this but Legolas continued, “But not now. I could never understand how an elf could choose a mortal over their own kind. Never. It was utterly incomprehensible to me. Now I know. I cannot expect you to understand, father, but know this: you will not stop me.”

Thranduil’s eyes grew dark and his voice was low and filled with threat, “Is this the respect you show your father, Legolas? Is this the respect you show your King, and your station as Prince? That you will act on a mere whim, a mere fancy, a fluttering of your heart and demean yourself?”

Legolas’s cheeks were flushed in rage but he bit his tongue.

“Can you not find some elf-maid to satisfy your desires, boy? Why does this piece of mortal flesh heat you so..?”

“DON’T you dare!” Legolas snapped through clenched teeth.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and spoke in a firm, angry tone. “I would remind you not to raise your voice to me. YOU are the one who has chosen to come here and seek my approval or at least my permission to marry here. YOU are the one who should explain yourself; YOU are the one who should be told not to dare! You DARE to bring shame to my house! You DARE to defile our blood with mortality and you tell me there is nothing I can do about it?! How dare YOU? How DARE you?!”

Thranduil was shouting and Legolas’s voice was no quieter than his father’s. “I dare because I have no choice! I explained to you in my first letter to you that I fought against this. Fought against it with all my being. Even when I finally acknowledged my feelings for her I resisted telling her, telling anyone. I accepted that I would never have her, that it was impossible. I tried. Desperately.”

His tone was changing now, he was reliving the pain of what he had gone through, the turmoil, the angst were all flooding back. Despite his father’s demeanour the two were close and Thranduil was about the only person Legolas could have opened his heart to in such a manner.

“And it was made worse when I could see in her the same feelings reciprocated. I could not bear it. I lied to myself, denied it for so long. Raged and battled in myself.” He looked up at his father now, his eyes glistening with unfallen tears. “But I knew I could not let anyone else have her. The pain of not loving her, of not having her for my own would have been as great or worse than the loss I face ahead of me now. Either way my heart will break. This way I can at least have some joy by which it’s pain may be eased.”

Thranduil looked at his son, at the distress evident in his face, and though he would not admit it he began to understand something of what his son had gone through. He was resolute, however. He nodded.

“That still does not change the fact that elf and mortal should not mix. Kind with kind. That is how it should be. It is bad enough when races mix within kind.”

Legolas sighed and rolled his eyes skyward.

“Don’t you sigh at me! Friendship is one thing, but this! This is beyond reason. It is profoundly stupid. Terribly wrong.” He stopped, looking at his son with a sudden compassion in his eyes. “Legolas I do not want to see you hurt. And you will be. Sorely hurt.” Suddenly Thranduil could not look at him. “What if the grief is too much, Legolas? Did you ever think of that?”

Legolas looked at him. He had not told his father of the seagull’s cry he had heard or the sea-calling he felt, though he suspected his father, who knew him so well, had guessed it having seen the change in him when he returned home after the War, and indeed Thranduil had. The King had even discussed it with Galadriel who had confirmed his suspicions. And he had wept long then into the dark night alone in his chambers when he knew that his son would desert him. Legolas knew that it would cut his father sore to lose him, whether by grief taking him or the sea.

Legolas came over to sit opposite his father, his elbows on his knees, regarding the elder elf with a sad smile. “I did indeed, father. Of course I did. You must not think I took this decision lightly. Nor did Fuineth. She is well aware, all too painfully aware, of the consequences of this. It stopped her just as it stopped me. But denying this was causing us more pain than admitting it. Can you understand that?”

His father nodded and Legolas smiled to see it, thinking at last he was getting through to him. Then he saw the sneer on his father’s face as he said, “Yes indeed I can but she, as a mortal, is frail and all too young to understand how to control herself better, I do not doubt. But you, Legolas, you are old enough to control your desires. I thought I had brought you up better than this. I thought I had taught you to understand your priorities and responsibilities in life.”

Legolas snapped, “How does my marriage affect my priorities or responsibilities?! It has nothing whatsoever to do with it!”

“It has everything to do with it,” his father roared. “Do you not understand?! Apart from the fact that you need to set an example, you of all people should know better. You are in a position of responsibility and therefore cannot follow your desires and whims like a child. You are not an efling any longer, my boy, and it is time you started to realise it!”

Legolas was livid.

“Not an elfling?! Not an ELFLING?! You call me, a battle-hardened warrior, one who fought to defend this my home and all of Middle Earth, an elfling? You speak to one who battled fell beasts and faced terrors and horrors that would have made lesser men or elves quail in such a manner? You may be my father but I was full grown long ago! Rather it is you who treats me as a child and a doltard but I can assure you I am neither! I was stupid but only because I decided to come here because I felt, out of honour and respect to you..” Thranduil snorted his contempt but Legolas continued over him, trying to ignore him, “Out of honour and respect to you that I should discuss this with you, meet you face to face, allow you to meet her and decide for yourself! That was stupid: that I should have trusted you to show the same respect to me that I have afforded you!”

“You have already decided, Legolas! What is there to discuss? If you seek my blessing, you shall not have it! If you seek my approval, you shall not have it! And if you think you are to marry here in my halls, irrespective of my views, then Legolas you sadly mistaken!”

Legolas stared at his father in disbelief. “What did you say?”

“You heard,” growled his father.

“You would deny me to marry here amongst my people and my friends?”

“I would deny you marrying in MY halls amongst MY people to someone of whom I do not approve, yes! You have your own realm. You chose to leave and forsake this your home.”

Legolas groaned. He was not going through *this* argument again.

Thranduil was continuing, his voice rising with every phrase, “You are the one who decided that the company of mortals was more to your liking than that of your own kin. You have had poor role-models in the South, that much is clear to me. He may be King, your friend Aragorn, but you should not follow his example in everything.”

“Don’t you dare speak of him and the fair Undomiel! You have no understanding of what they went through or how hard it was for them both!”

“No! Perhaps not!” roared back his father, “But I can understand entirely the rage and despair of Elrond!”

There was a shocked silence. Both were standing, their faces red, their eyes flashing.

Legolas broke away to stand at a desk, his hands splayed out on it as he leaned forward over it, his head bowed. He was breathing hard through his nose, his teeth clenched.

At last he said, quietly, struggling to control himself, “That may be so, but Elrond knew the decision lay with his daughter. She was free to choose and Elrond gave his permission though it broke his heart.”

He turned now to see his father was standing, facing the fire with his back to him. The tension his stance was evident.

Legolas continued, “But I will not become mortal like her. It is not the same decision. It may be the grief will be too much. I cannot know that, nor can you. That is for Eru to decide. Believe me, father, if I could have avoided this I would have. I would not, for all the world, wish to put you through this.”

Thranduil turned then, regarding his son. “Legolas I know you understand how I feel. And you know that I would feel this way no matter who it was. The emotions are stronger in me because you are my son and I love you too much to see you do this to yourself.”

Legolas nodded, “I know.”

They were silent for some time then. Thranduil sat once more and picked up his cup of wine. At last he spoke. “I do not think there is any more to discuss, Legolas. I cannot see what purpose it would serve. There is nothing you can say that would convince me this is right for you. Till then you will not marry here.”

“Elbereth!” Legolas sighed, “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I could say the same of you!” his father retorted.

“And if I am, then who did I get it from?!” Legolas countered.

And suddenly their eyes met and they laughed.

As their chuckles faded Legolas said, “You will like her when you meet her, I know you will.”

Thranduil looked at him now and his curiosity got the better of him, “Yes I must admit I am intrigued by one who could move you so, Legolas. I know you have had plenty of elf-maids to choose from, have done so indeed, but this, this I have never seen in you before.”

Legolas smiled, “She is beautiful. Dark and tall and with a warmth about her that is wondrous. She has character and fire, and yet she is the gentlest and most considerate person I think I have met in a long age. She speaks Sindarin and knows much of elves and elvish ways. Her father was Dunedain and her brother fought with me in the War of the Ring. He has taught her much of the ways of the Northern people.”

“So you said in your letter.”

Thranduil’s voice betrayed nothing but he had been impressed by what Legolas had written in his description of her and he was, though he scarcely admitted to himself, looking forward to meeting her.

There was silence and then Legolas said, in a calmer tone than before, “Father, guests are already on their way. You had plenty of opportunity to tell me you would refuse my marriage here after my first message. I said then those were my plans. Even after the second message, if you had used a bird, it would have got to me in plenty of time. You cannot now, at this late hour, expect me to turn back the King and Queen of Gondor and Arnor when they are halfway to our halls already or Lord Elrond who would have already left Rivendell.”

Thranduil fumed suddenly, “Perhaps you should not have been so presumptuous?”

“Perhaps you should not have been so hotheaded as to not reply to my messages,” Legolas snarled.

Thranduil conceded the point. “Even so. These are my halls. I rule here, not you, Legolas, or not yet. I shall meet her, I shall consider it, but otherwise messengers will be sent. South to Lothlorien to meet the guests there, and West to Rivendell. There will be no wedding. You understand me?”

Legolas’s voice was still calm but there was a steely tone to it. “I understand. But I must correct you, father, on one thing: there will be a wedding. Whether it is here or in Ithilien it will occur. Whether you like it or not, forgive me, but it will happen.”

Thranduil’s eyes were flashing and his teeth ground. “So you would wilfully defy me, your father and your King?” he growled.

Legolas looked him in the eye and said, “Yes. In this matter without question or hesitation.”

Thranduil threw his cup into the fire, turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

“Well, that went well,” murmured Legolas to himself.

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As King Thranduil stormed out into the Throne Room his face was black as thunder. The elves in the chamber stepped out of his way and dropped their voices as he strode past.

Naril ventured into the antechamber and saw Legolas, his face pale with anger, still leaning against the desk, his hands gripping its edges as his eyes flashed. Naril tapped gently on the door, hesitating as to whether to enter or not. Legolas looked up, and, seeing it was him, gave a weak smile.

Naril grinned, “So, about as bad as you feared, then?”

Legolas sighed and shook his head, “Just about. He has forbidden the ceremony to take place here.”

Naril looked shocked. “It’s a bit late for that. Aren’t guests already on their way?”

Legolas nodded. Naril fell silent for a moment.

“What will you tell Fuineth?”

Legolas’s expression grew clouded. “I will not tell her. Not yet. He has said that he may change his mind. I cannot see him sticking to this, if truth be told, if only because it will look ill mannered indeed to send Elrond and the King and Queen back to their homes before they even reach us. He could have stopped this by replying to my messages, but chose not to. There is little he can do now, though it sticks in his throat, I am sure.” Naril nodded.

Naril was Legolas’s elder by a near thousand years. He was close to both he and the King, his father having come from Doriath with Thranduil’s own.

“You know he is set in his ways, Legolas. Perhaps time will cool his ire. He has yet to meet her and he cannot fail but like her when he does so.”

Legolas smiled then, “Well yes, I think so too. He will never approve but I hope that by meeting her he will calm somewhat. In fact I feel sure he will.”

They were silent for a little while. Then Naril spoke quietly. “It might be well for you to follow him. To try talking to him some more.”

Legolas snorted, “What is the use? I am defiling his name and honour and am acting like a mere elfling, apparently. It is desire that is driving me and no more.”

Naril raised an eyebrow, “He said that?”

“More or less.”

Naril sighed and shook his head, “And you no doubt took the bait and defied him.”

Legolas looked at his friend, “He is being completely unreasonable. He was outrageously rude to me just now, even if I am his son and his subject.”

Naril placed a hand on Legolas’s shoulder, “He was angry. You are both as stubborn as each other, and I can say that as one who loves you both and has known you since you were a mere elfling in arms. My father knew your grandfather and knew King Thranduil from his childhood too. You are both well-known to me.”

Legolas said nothing so Naril continued, “You know what will have happened. He will have been storing up his rage and shock all this while since he first received your news. It has all come out in a great rush this day. The worst is over. Now he can start thinking more clearly once more. It was ever his wont. You know that better than I.”

Legolas nodded and sighed. “You are right. I am loath to bring Fuineth to him just yet though. I fear his anger will betray him and that would upset her greatly, I know. She is scared enough of meeting him. She has not said as much to me but I can sense it in her. She knows he does not approve and she is worried.”

“It is understandable,” murmured Naril, “But all the more reason for you to go after him. Apologise if necessary.”

Legolas flashed him a look.

“Yes, you heard me right, Legolas. Apologise. You know better than I how appease your father. And you need him and his permission. His approval, as you say, you may never achieve but if you and he are not to be hugely embarrassed by having to turn back such noble guests as are already on their way then you will have to do whatever it takes to pacify him.”

Legolas knew Naril was right. He had allowed his anger to get the better of him and hadn’t argued his case nearly well enough, he knew. He smiled.

“Thank you Naril. You are right. I will go and find him. I love him dearly and I know he is only behaving thus out of his love for me also. I need to make him understand why I have chosen thus. Meeting Fuineth will help, but I must smooth the path before that can happen.”

Naril nodded. “I will go and make sure the guests are being looked after, then, while you do so.”

Legolas smiled his thanks at his friend and Naril watched as Legolas left the room to go and find his father.


Chapter 24 - Meeting the King

Chapter 23 ~ Meeting the King



There was a private garden some little distance from the gates of the Halls. It was filled with spring flowers and the sunlight lit it through most of the day no matter the sun’s angle in the sky. Many of the birds Thranduil used as messengers lived here in the trees round about it and Thranduil would always come here when he needed solitude and peace.

He let his mind run over the conversation with his son. He had not intended to lose his temper with him but Legolas could be so obstinate. He was still reeling that Legolas could have made such a decision. It seemed so unlike him. But then he had become best friends with a dwarf so perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised.

He could see the strength of feeling Legolas clearly had for this woman. It had been fairly clear even in his letters to him but the look on his son’s face when he had spoken of her was one Thranduil had never seen in him before. His entire expression had lit up and his eyes had shone.

He recognised that feeling. He had felt exactly the same way about Legolas’s mother. She would not have been so set against this, he knew that. He could almost hear her voice scolding him gently for being too harsh on their child. He shook his head. No. This was too serious a matter. He could not approve, nor would he. And if he did not approve, how could he permit the ceremony here? It would be awkward, yes, to turn guests back, but it would have to be done. At least Legolas would learn not to defy his father...

Thranduil stopped himself. He really was thinking of Legolas as an elfling. And Legolas was not. Far from it. His fury at his father calling him that had been understandable and Thranduil regretted using the term even though he held by his opinion that Legolas was not thinking clearly. But then that too was perhaps an unfair assessment of his son. He was never hot-headed by nature. It was one of the qualities that Thranduil most admired in Legolas: that he was reasonable without being cold; fair and just, never judgmental; he would always carefully assess any situation and then invariably make the right decision. He could do so at speed if necessary which is why he was the good warrior his father knew him to be. No, it was not like Legolas to let his feelings get the better of him. Possibly there was more to this than he had first thought.

Thranduil heard movement behind him and turned to find his son had entered the garden.

“Am I disturbing you, father?”

“No. No. Just taking some air. Clearing my head. Come, walk with me a little. We need to talk I think.”

Legolas nodded and smiled, “Yes indeed. It is why I came to find you. I thought you might be here.”

And so as they walked Thranduil asked his son about Fuineth and his love for her in more detail. Legolas spoke with passion and some tears about his feelings, his struggle against them and his near despair. Thranduil, his anger abated somewhat, could hear the sincerity in his son’s words. He did not doubt now that this had been a hard decision for Legolas and he told him so.

Legolas allowed himself a smile. “I am glad you accept this is not a mere fancy, adar. It is so much more than that.”

Thranduil nodded, “I can see that. It is clear in the way you speak of her.”

Legolas looked at him, “You will like her, you know. Naril thinks so too.”

Thranduil looked intrigued, “Does he now?” He laughed softly. “Well then perhaps I had better meet her, do you not think?”

Legolas hesitated, “Father, I would ask one thing. Do not blame her. Do not feel anger toward her for my feelings about her. She tried to fight against this as much for my sake as hers. She..” His voice faltered, his throat tightening, “It causes her great distress to think of the loss I shall face and I know she would have spared me that if she could.”

Thranduil nodded but said nothing.

“She is nervous of meeting you. I had warned her you would not approve.”

“Indeed? Well then I shall have to put her at her ease a little if I am to get to know her.” Legolas looked at his father gratefully. Thranduil continued, “Well I think our guests should be refreshed after their journey by now. I shall come and meet this mortal who has stolen my son’s heart.”

Legolas looked at him and, though his father’s face was impassive, the eyes sparkled.

Legolas grinned.

Thranduil shook his head and his look became more serious, “But Legolas do not forget what I said to you. Despite what you have told me and the clearer insight I now have into this matter, my answer is still the same. I cannot approve of such a union and how can I allow a ceremony to take place here in my Halls if I do not approve?”

Legolas nodded and replied quietly, “You also said you would wait till you had met her before you made a decision, did you not?”

Thranduil nodded in his turn and the two quietly walked back together to the Halls.


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The guests settled themselves in their rooms and then were taken to have something to eat. Legolas still did not arrive so once she had eaten a little something Fuineth excused herself, leaving Gimli deep in conversation with Naril, Túveren and Elsbeth regaling them with tales of his previous visit here, and went back to her room to finish unpacking.

The chambers she had been given were cut into the rock at a higher level, with a long narrow window cut out into the steep, high slope above the gates and the river. It was curtained with foliage and greenery, but the view below of the rushing river and the sound of the water as it sped past was wonderful. She could see nothing but trees and the river and the air was full of the noise of the water and birdsong from the nearby branches. She stood there, elbows on the sill, her chin in her hands and her eyes closed, relishing the feel of the air on her face and the musky smell of the forest below.

There was a knock on the door and she said “Come in” but stayed gazing out of the window still. She heard the door open and when the person didn’t speak she looked over her shoulder at them to see who it was. It was Legolas. She smiled.

“It is a beautiful view from here.”

“And from here,” he grinned.

She laughed and he came over to her and put his arm around her waist joining her to look out of the window.

“Ah, it gladdens my heart to be back here once again. I love Ithilien, but Eryn Lasgalen will always be dear to me.”

She nodded, “It is to be expected, Legolas.”

She turned now, looking to find any clue in his face as to what may have occurred during his meeting. Seeing nothing she said, “You were long with your father.”

His brow furrowed for a second. He sighed. “He does not change. Nor would I expect him to.”

She had her hand on the small of his back now, looking up at him concerned. “I’m sure he loves you and only wants what he thinks is best for you.”

He looked at her, and smiled gently, “I know. And I love him dearly also.” He hesitated then said softly, “He does not approve, Fuineth. But then that comes as no surprise to either of us, is that not so?” She nodded, her gaze having fallen from him at his words.

She looked back out to the forest once more, her throat tightening. She had known it. Legolas had warned her. Still she had hoped it would not be so.

Legolas saw her sadness, and pulled her to him so he could wrap both his arms about her. “Fuineth, it will not change anything, remember that. We must give him a little time to get to know you and then he will better understand my decision.” He laughed softly and looked down at her, “After all he has not even met you yet.”

She smiled and he bent to kiss her gently. He looked into her eyes and murmured, “How could he fail to approve once he knows how beautiful you are?”

Her lips met his and they held a passionate embrace for some minutes till there came a knock upon her door. Legolas kept his arms about her as he bade them enter.

An elf-maid opened the door, clearly a little startled at hearing Legolas’s voice reply to her knock and even more surprised at seeing him standing at the window with his arms about Fuineth.

“My lord.. forgive me.. your father is asking for you once more, and.. Lady Fuineth.”

Legolas nodded, “Thank you we will shall be there presently.”

As the elf-maid closed the door Legolas laughed loudly. “Well, within an hour or so everyone will now know which it is of the women I have arrived with that is my betrothed, I would imagine.”

She smiled but could not hide her sudden nervousness. He hugged her close, “Don’t be nervous, Fuineth. He is really very kind and gentle.” She looked at him as he added, “Well, he can be when he wants to be.” He grinned.

Legolas started for the door but Fuineth was rummaging in a drawer where she had unpacked the little she had brought with her.

“Fuineth? What are you about?”

She looked at him, blushing a little. “I did not tell you Legolas because I wasn’t sure how you might react. I suppose I should let you tell me if it is a good idea or no before I offend your father, though I would hope I would not.”

He looked at her, curious.

She sighed, “Do not be angry with me, Legolas, but I was talking with the Queen before I left Minas Tirith and I mentioned to her how nervous I was about coming here to meet him. She had guessed that we thought he would not approve. She advised me to bring a present with me, a token for him. She said it might help ease things a little.”

“She was right and it was good advice, and I am not angry with you that you mentioned this to her.” He drew closer to her now, taking her hand and smiling at her.

Fuineth nodded, relieved. Her tone was vaguely apologetic when she spoke, “Legolas I did not have anything to give.” He looked at her now. “I had nothing that would be appropriate. I bought a length of cloth, such that he might have a tunic made from, but I know it is not nearly fine enough for an Elvenking, nor indeed as fine as anything an elf could make.”

“Do not worry, meleth nín. He will be deeply touched by the gesture. The gift itself is of no consequence.”

He could see there was more, however. She hesitated.

“The Queen insisted I bring something that she herself gave me. I would not have taken it except she insisted on it, calling it a gift from her to me in thanks for the service I had given her in my short time as a lady-in-waiting for her. I could not refuse it.”

He waited to see what it was and then gasped as she held out a golden belt buckle, carved into the shape of two leaves intertwined and with two rows of jewels inlaid into it.

“It is beautiful, Fuineth.”

She smiled, glad that he approved. “Will it be acceptable, do you think? Would he like it?”

He nodded, and then grinned, “She has done you a great service by giving you such a thing. You guessed at it but I do not think you realise quite how much.”

She sighed with relief, “The Valar be praised. I had been worried. I was concerned it might not suitable, that it might be too much and seem too rich a gift from someone such as I. I am glad you approve. Truly you have eased my heart.”

He laughed, “Fuineth, you should have told me. I could have saved you all your anxiety. Have you really been worrying about this all this time?”

She nodded, feeling herself flushing now and not a little foolish.

He laughed again, “Ai, Fuineth. I love you so. Truly I do.” And he kissed her.

Having seen the cloth she had brought – a light green with gold embroidery – and approved that also, they headed downstairs to the Throne Room. Elsilion was waiting for them and took the cloth and the buckle from them as he showed them in.

Thranduil sat upon his stone-carved throne at one end of the chamber. As Fuineth walked past the pillars towards him she could see him watching her closely. He was tall, lithe, and with long blond hair, like his son, that flowed about his shoulders. About his head was a garland crown of early spring forest flowers. He had rings on his fingers that glinted in the torchlight and he held a carved oaken staff in one hand. His clothes were green and brown, as seemed to be common to many there, but she could tell even from here they were of rich and fine materials. The brocade and embroidery on the tunic was intricate and detailed and, like Elsilion, jewels glinted at Thranduil’s throat. She suddenly remarked how simply Legolas always dressed. She smiled a little at this thought.

At last she stood before the Elvenking. Legolas stood back a little as she curtsied and kept her gaze low as he stood and stepped down to greet her.

“Lady Fuineth,” he said, his voice rich and mellow, as he took her hand though he did not kiss it.

“Your highness. I am most honoured to meet you.”

He nodded. “Legolas has told me much about you. I look forward to getting you know you better while you stay with us here.”

She smiled, “You are too gracious, your highness.”

At a nod from Legolas Elsilion stepped forward and coughed. Fuineth, seeing him there, said, “Oh. These are for you, your highness. Not much, I know, but I trust they might please you.”

Legolas stepped forward now, “You see what you have done to her, father? She is being terribly formal out of fear of you and that will not do at all.”

She flushed, almost wishing the ground would open up beneath her, as he said this. There was a soft laugh from Elsilion and even the king had the ghost of a smile on his face.

“He is right, my dear. You need not be so formal with me. You are betrothed to my son, are you not?”

She flushed even more now, but smiled at him gratefully, “Le hannon, your highness.”

Thranduil smiled then, “Ah yes, Legolas said you speak Sindarin.”

She nodded, flushing still, “A little. I still have a lot to learn. I can understand more than I have the confidence to say.”

Smilingly Legolas added, “She knows a lot more than she would admit, I can assure you, father, though I fear I am embarrassing her by saying so.”

“And so you are,” retorted Thranduil. Then, more kindly he turned to Fuineth, “I thank you for your gifts, my dear. It was a most thoughtful and generous gesture on your part. I am touched. Truly.” She smiled and nodded her head.

Elsilion left them then, taking the gifts with him, while Thranduil sat back on his throne once more and Legolas seated Fuineth on a seat near to them and he sat beside her. He took her hand.

“Isn’t she the fairest thing, father?”

Fuineth blushed to her ears again and whispered, “Legolas, please!”

“Indeed she is, Legolas, but I fear you are embarrassing your betrothed dreadfully.”

Thranduil paused, watching them both as Legolas held her hand and gazed at her while she, pink with embarrassment, gazed at her feet. Finally the King spoke, “Legolas, leave us for a moment. I wish to talk to Lady Fuineth alone if you do not mind.”

Legolas nodded. As he rose he squeezed Fuineth’s hand to reassure her as he saw the slight panic in her eyes. He kissed her hand, bowed towards his father and left.

There was a silence then for a few moments. Fuineth was unable to meet his gaze, though she knew he was looking at her, and stayed staring at her hands in her lap.

At last she heard him shift slightly in his seat. “Lady Fuineth, I am sure Legolas has told you I do not approve of this marriage.”

Her heart sank. She said quietly, “Yes, your highness.”

“I do not want you to think it is any reflection on you. I have only just met you after all. I can certainly see why he finds you attractive,” she blushed, “but, and this is the point, Lady Fuineth, you are mortal.” She nodded. “He tells me you both fought long and hard against your feelings, is that so?”

She nodded once more and now looked up at him, “Yes, your highness, that is so. I cannot speak for Legolas, but for myself I did everything I could to not succumb to this. You must know, my liege, that I fought hard as much for your son’s sake as my own if not more so for his sake than mine. It will be a bitter blow indeed for him when it comes, I know, and it breaks my heart to think of it. I would have spared him that if I could, you must believe me.”

The King stayed silent for a while.

“I do. I do believe you. And I am glad that you understand the situation so clearly, even though Legolas had told me that you did. I wanted to see for myself what you had to say about it. It will be bitter for him. I too would wish to spare him that. I must be honest with you, Lady Fuineth, if I thought he would take notice of me I would forbid this marriage.”

She sat shocked into silence at this.

The King continued, “It may be my son has spent too long in the South with new found friends for him to think so lightly on this matter, but it is not done for elf and man to mix like this. It is a path fraught with perils and great sorrow. My son is a prince, an elf of renown now since the war, and for him to spurn his own kind like this pleases me not. It pleases me not at all.”

Fuineth was flushing now. She wanted to say something but knew not if she should. At last she said, quietly, “Forgive me if I seem impertinent, your highness, but I think you do your son a great injustice to speak of him so. He is indeed an elf of renown and a prince, but he is more than that. He is a kind and simple elf, one who loves others no matter their race or station for all are equal to his eyes and in equal merit of his affection and attention.”

There was a snort from the throne but no more so she continued.

“Do not say he thinks lightly of our decision, for he does not I assure you, your highness, as I am sure he himself has told you. It pained him greatly, probably more than I, to admit to himself how he felt. We are only agreed upon this because the pain of losing each other now would be as great as the loss to come. At least now we have a chance to share something wonderful together before it is gone, and all too soon.”

She felt a tear fall unto her cheek as she spoke, and she dropped her head to compose herself. She took a breath and looked up at the Elvenking, who was looking a little softer at her now, “If I may be frank with you, my liege, then know that I love him dearly, and that I always will. No matter what may happen, even if you were to forbid this, he would have my heart. He says I make him happy, and I am glad. For surely something so tender and wonderful as this cannot be wrong compared to the pain and suffering we would endure apart from each other?”

The King came off his throne and, taking her hand, sat next to her. “Lady Fuineth, you have moved me much in what you have said, but in truth you did not need to convince me of your love for Legolas, nor of his for you. It is clear even in the way you look at each other. Nor is that where my objection lies. Forgive me if I seemed harsh in what I said, and you are right, I was not just in what I said of Legolas just now. But I do not approve, nor can I. You must know this.”

She nodded, her head bowed and another tear fell. She could not speak. She could hear the determination in his voice. It was clear that he was resolute. She suddenly wondered what had passed between he and Legolas. She looked at him, considering this and fearing the worst.

“If you do not approve you will still permit us to marry, will you not?”

The King dropped his gaze. “As I said, Lady Fuineth, I cannot stop my son from choosing his own path, much as I would wish to.” She nodded.

He stood and offered her his arm, “Come. I have things I must attend to, but I feel sure Legolas will be nearby somewhere worrying no doubt about what I am saying to you. Come with me and we shall find him for you and then we must greet my other guests, your travelling companions, before I must busy myself once more.”

She nodded. “I thank you, your highness,” and took his arm.

Legolas was in fact outside the door, waiting in the corridor, conversing with Elsilion and two other nobles of the court. Túveren, Elsbeth and Gimli were there also, come to greet the King their host. Legolas smiled when he saw Fuineth and his father, glad to see them arm in arm, but as Thranduil was busy greeting his guests he took her to one side.

“How was it? What did he talk to you about?”

She smiled, “Well he was plain in his speaking but in a way I am glad he did so. He told me frankly he does not approve and even that he would forbid it if he thought you would listen.”

Legolas’s face grew dark, “He should not have told you that.”

She shook her head, “Don’t be angry, meleth nín. He wanted to be honest to me and I am grateful to him. Now at least I know exactly how he feels.” She paused, “And he knows exactly how I feel. I think it was that more than anything else that he wished to know from me. You had told him, of course, but he wanted to hear it for himself.”

“Such as?”

“How much I love you, but more that I understood our situation.”

Legolas nodded but his brow was still furrowed in anger.

She held a hand to his cheek. “Legolas, he told me very clearly it was nothing to do with me. He complimented me and admitted he does not yet know me. He made it clear he would be like this were it any elf marrying any mortal. You do not need me to tell you that.”

Legolas sighed, “I know. I warned you of it myself in Minas Tirith, did I not?” She nodded.

Fuineth spent the afternoon in the King’s company. He learned much from her about her life and her family. He could see she was intelligent and with a quick sense of humour and that Legolas was right: she was beautiful. He began to understand something more of why Legolas loved her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was betrothed to his son he would have liked her instantly.

Both Legolas and Naril were with them and they would occasionally exchange a glance when the King or Fuineth laughed at something the other had said.

Naril leaned over and whispered to Legolas, “See. Told you he would like her.”

Legolas nodded and grinned.

He was pleased to see Fuineth more relaxed with his father and he could tell the King was doing everything he could to make her feel at ease. They had a natural affinity with each other, which was quite astonishing given Thranduil’s reputation. Fuineth met him match for match and would scold and tease him just as if he were any other elf. He had thanked her once more for her gifts since he had had a chance to look at them more closely than when she first presented them to him in the Throne Room. The buckle had impressed him greatly and, even though Fuineth had worried the material would not be fine enough, he had liked the feel of it and the design of the embroidery so she had chosen well.

Later that evening, after the banquet held in honour of the returned Prince, Legolas got some clue as to how his father viewed her when Thranduil took him to one side to speak to him.

“I like her,” was all he said.

Legolas looked at him, a grin on his face, “Did I not tell you you would? Do you have some understanding now?”

Thranduil’s face did not show any emotion but his eyes glinted slightly.

“Perhaps,” he said non-committally. “She is fair. Very fair indeed. But at first I was worried today in the Throne Room that she seemed weak, like so many of these mortals are, particularly their women but then she showed me something of her true character when we spoke alone.”

He paused, his eyes glinting once again as he looked at his son and a smile flickered upon his lips.

“She answered me back, you know.”

Legolas raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“She was very polite about it, very courteous, but told me in no uncertain terms that I didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Legolas was stunned and not a little amused.

“Yes,” said Thranduil ignoring his son’s smirk, “I like her.”


Chapter 25 - Eryn Lasgalen

Chapter 23 – Eryn Lasgalan


As far as Fuineth knew the wedding was arranged for a little over a week away. Aragorn and Arwen had sent word that they would be arriving the day before the nuptials and would then continue on to Rivendell. Túveren was thinking of going with them to show Elsbeth something of the North, but had not yet reached a decision. Preparations were already underway and they would continue despite the uncertainty that now lay over the wedding. King Thranduil had not yet decided but, even though his son was convinced he would not now stop the proceedings at such a late juncture, it was still a possibility.

In the meantime Legolas showed Fuineth the forest and his father’s realm. It reminded her very much of Ithilien but even she could tell this forest was older. The trees seemed more gnarled, thicker in their trunks and when she commented on how large and beautiful many of the beech trees were Legolas smiled broadly.

“They are a favourite amongst my people here in Eryn Lasgalen.”

She could see why.

Amongst the many talans in the forest round the Halls was one like that which he had taken her to in his own realm in that it stood tall and high in the trees so that there was a superb view from it. From there Legolas pointed out to her the expanse of the forest below that stretched out to the South and the Emyn Duir, whose tops could be seen rising through the trees in the centre of the forest, as well as the Hithaeglir tall and close with their snow-capped peaks. Then he pointed North and she could see the grey line of the Ered Mithrin and, nearer now, the glint of water of a great lake and just beyond it a single lonely peak.

“That is the Lonely Mountain where is the dwarf kingdom of Erebor.”

He fell silent for a moment and, looking up at him, she could see he was remembering the battle and the loss.

“You fought there, did you not?”

He nodded. “Not as great a battle as that on the Pelennor or in front of the Black Gate, but terrible enough, Fuineth. It was a dark day and many were lost. There was peace here for many years after that day till the War, yet were it but for the eagles I do not know that we should have succeeded. Certainly many more would have fallen.”

She nodded, and reached for his hand while he stood there silent and lost in his memories for a moment.

When at last he shifted and turned to look and smile at her she asked him of the eagles.

He indicated the Misty Mountains once more, “Many live there amongst those high peaks. I have seen them in battle twice, and it was fearsome indeed, or else on the wing high in the skies. There was one, Gwaihir, who watched the Fellowship as we travelled South from Moria and Lorien. He it was who told Gandalf of our travels and how we fared.” He looked at her, “That is what they are, in truth: observers and gatherers of news for Manwe. It is only out of dire necessity and their own volition that they ever choose to intervene in our affairs.”

She nodded, well aware of all this. She looked toward the mountains then as if scanning them for the merest hint of a wing.

“If I saw one I would point it out to you, meleth nin,” he smiled and she blushed a little.

It was nearing sunset and so they stayed there to watch the sun sink behind the mountains, just as they had done in Ithilien. He held her close and kissed her and they murmured their love for each other. As their kisses began to intensify, and his tongue found hers, she ran her fingers through his hair that gleamed still in the last orange glow of the sky.

He was kissing her neck and his hand was on her waist and moving upwards when he stiffened, listening. He groaned and put his head on her shoulder.

“What? What is it?”

“You cannot hear it?”

She shook her head.

“A messenger from the halls, shouting up that we are wanted inside.” He looked at her and kissed her tenderly, “Love will have to wait, meleth nín, forgive me.”

She giggled, “We are to be married soon enough, Legolas. We shall have plenty of time then.”

He grinned, “Yes indeed.”

He kissed her once more and as he did so she remembered that wonderful moment they had shared in Lothlorien when he had held her and loved her and taught her to do the same to him. She moaned quietly at the memory and he pulled back from her to look into her eyes.

He knew perfectly well but he murmured, “What are you remembering, meleth nín?” She blushed and he had his answer, and he kissed her laughingly. “Come, we needs must descend, my love.”

He stood and held out his hand for her and, as she took it and stood to join him, he pulled her to him to murmur in her ear and nibble it slightly, “We can save memories for another time.” She blushed again but grinned.

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They tried to go riding every day if they could. Fuineth had finished Legolas’s riding tunic and he wore it with pride and was clearly delighted with it which pleased her greatly. On occasion Túveren and Elsbeth would come with them but Gimli always declined and would go wandering off to find Naril at such times.

Several days after their arrival, on just such an excursion, they had stopped in a clearing near the river and Túveren and Legolas sat and watched as Elsbeth and Fuineth wandered amongst the trees nearby picking flowers and talking.

Túveren sighed, “I am glad to have come here at last. It is everything you and Aragorn have told me.”

Legolas nodded, “I am glad it has lived up to your expectations. I am only pleased you have seen it as it should be, not as it was before the War, full of darkness and fell creatures.”

Túveren nodded, his face serious now, “Yes indeed.”

They were silent for a little while. Fuineth and Elsbeth were now sitting by the side of a stream that fed into the river, their feet dangling into the water laughing and giggling as they plaited each other’s hair with the flowers they had collected.

Legolas spoke, “Some of the Dúnedain will be coming to the wedding, will they not?”

Túveren nodded, “Yes indeed. Calloneb told me in Minas Tirith that he would attend.”

Legolas grinned, “You haven’t told Fuineth, have you?”

Túveren smiled, “No. I thought it would be a nice surprise for her.”

Túveren then said quietly, “Fuineth told me your father doesn’t approve. I am sorry to hear that.”

Legolas nodded, “It wasn’t unexpected, in all honesty. I had warned Fuineth of it myself even before we left Minas Tirith. He is set in his ways and has fixed ideas on the order of things. Even the fact that I have Gimli as a friend still sets his teeth on edge.”

Túveren nodded, “I am only sorry our father and mother cannot be here to see her married.”

Legolas looked at him now, “You had to raise her yourself, did you not, after your mother died? We have never spoken much of it you and I.”

“That is true. She was still quite young when our mother took ill: not yet a maid, yet no longer a child. It was not easy for her. Rohan is a hard place for women. Not like the North. I would travel often also so she spent much time with my uncle. He and his wife brought her up, in part, as much as I or our mother did. It hurt her greatly when he fell at Helm’s Deep.”

Legolas nodded, his face grim with the memory of it.

Túveren stirred slightly. “My father would approve, you know. Not simply because he was of the Dúnedain and loved the elves as all do in the North. His closest companion was an elf. An elf of Rivendell. It is his ring that you wear as a betrothal gift.”

Legolas looked at him. “Fuineth said she knew little of this ring. Why have you never told her if you knew something of its history?”

Túveren looked down and sighed, “In part because I know little more than she; in part because it hurts me still to think of it.” He paused and then said quietly, “I was there, Legolas. I saw them die. He and my father both.” His voice faltered slightly as he spoke.

Legolas had not known this: neither that Túveren had seen his father’s death nor that this other elf had been there also. He sat now watching the young man fight to bring his feelings under control.

“Elenros he was called. He was a tall, fine elf. I can remember him very clearly. He was Sindarin, from Doriath. Elladan and Elrohir could tell you more of him than I. He, my father and I were out riding near to Rivendell when we were attacked. I do not know by how many. I did what I could, being but a boy, but my father insisted I stand behind them and hide myself and Elenros agreed. I was wroth and tried to argue but even as I did so an arrow pierced my father’s neck. I was frozen with shock and horror. I could not move. Elenros fought, but was outnumbered. They fell together, side by side. They fell defending me. Twenty-one orcs they slew between them. Elladan found me, weeping. Our horses, scared by the melee, had returned riderless to Rivendell and they came to look for us. I was covered in their blood from when I had held first one then the other, hoping desperately they might yet live, and then I sat between the two in a near swoon from my grief. They left Rivendell to look for three and found only one.”

Túveren fell silent, his cheeks wet with his tears. Legolas understood why he had not spoken of this to his sister. It would have distressed her to hear it, let alone to know the history of the ring, and he guessed that Túveren felt guilty for not having done more, though it was clear enough he could have done nothing to save either his father or the elf. Legolas felt prouder still to now own such a thing, borne by two such noble warriors.

Túveren continued, “My mother kept it not just as a memory of my father but also of him who had sacrificed himself for my sake by my father’s side. She wanted me to have it but it bore too painful a memory for me. Fuineth would always play with it when she was young: taking it off father’s finger and running around with it. She nearly lost it once. It was only because I was watching her and knew where it had fallen that it was found once more.” Túveren laughed softly at the memory and Legolas smiled. “So mother gave it to her.” He paused and looked at Legolas, “I am glad you have it. It was right, somehow, that Fuineth gave it to you. It is very precious to her, to us both, but I am glad it is with an elf once more and such a one as you.”

Legolas smiled his thanks. He was moved by what Túveren had shared with him. Elladan had told him something of the story the day of Túveren’s marriage when he had seen the ring on Legolas’s hand. Legolas had not mentioned it to Fuineth only because he did not want to upset her, but now Túveren had told him all he thought perhaps she should know.

“May I tell her, Túveren? I think she would want to know, though I well understand why you have not spoken of it to her before now.”

Túveren nodded and smiled, “I thank you Legolas. She should know. I have regretted not finding the courage to speak to her of it before now. I always promised myself I would, but never found the moment to do so.”

Legolas nodded and it was agreed.

Later that evening he took her walking in the forest and the tale was told. He held her as she wept, but she was glad that she knew. She too said she was pleased he had the ring from her, that it was right that he should have it.

Legolas smiled, “That is exactly what your brother said to me.” He added, “Father too was moved by such a gift. He may have known Elenros, I shall ask him if you like.”

She smiled. “Thank you. It would be nice to know a little more of him,” and then she kissed him.

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King Thranduil watched the two return from their walk from the window of his chambers. He had to admit that he liked Fuineth very much and he could well understand Legolas’s love for her. The only thing he could fault her on was her race.

He sighed and shook his head. It was less than a week before the wedding date and he knew it would be getting late to send messengers out even now. His son had made it clear they would marry no matter whether he allowed the ceremony to take place here or not. Thranduil balanced the ignominy of barring his son and his bride from his doors with the pain of allowing the ceremony to take place here. Better to save face, perhaps, than have others muttering behind his back in Ithilien while they married there. Legolas was determined, that much was clear. They had spoken often and Thranduil knew his son too well to think there was any way he could persuade him from this course. He had even discussed it with Naril. He had been surprised at Naril’s ready approval of the union and his stolid defence of Legolas’s decision. He had given the King much to think over.

Legolas left Fuineth at her chambers and came to see his father. He knocked on the door and heard a grumbled ‘Enter’.

“Forgive me, father, it is not too late to speak with you I trust?”

Thranduil shook his head, “Not at all, Legolas. Would you care for a drink?”

Legolas smiled, “Thank you, yes.”

He poured a cup of wine for his son, handed it to him and then, picking up his own cup from the window sill, indicated the two chairs on either side of the window for them to sit. He sipped his wine.

“Well, what did you want to see me about?”

Legolas did not answer immediately but drank a little wine first.

“I have discovered more of the history of this ring today,” he said at last indicating his right hand where the silver band glinted in the moonlight.

“Indeed? You said it was from Doriath and that was all Fuineth knew of it.”

Legolas nodded, “Yes. But it appears her brother knew more and never told her. The elf who gave it to their father was from Doriath himself and died with their father defending Túveren during an orc attack. Elenros he was called.”

Thranduil gasped. “Elenros?”

Legolas smiled slightly, “So you knew him? I wondered if you might.”

Thranduil nodded, his eyes wide with surprise and his voice quiet, “Yes indeed. Naril would remember him too, I do not doubt. He was a friend of both our fathers.” He paused looking at Legolas in astonishment, “And it was Túveren he died defending? I knew he had fallen in an orc attack with a Dúnedan, that there had been a child, a boy, with them but I never knew the Dúnedan’s name, nor indeed the boy’s.”

Legolas let his father sit in silence for a while mulling over this news. He was not surprised his father knew him. Not many elves who had survived the attack on Doriath had remained in the West after the loss of Beleriand so they were, or had been, all very well known to each other.

At last his father shifted in his seat, “It moves me much to know it is his ring you wear, Legolas. He was a good and noble elf. A great warrior. I was told the same was true of the man he fell with, Fuineth’s father.”

Legolas nodded, “Beriorgan he was called. Yes, both Aragorn and Calloneb, Halbarad’s brother, have told me as much also. I am honoured to wear such a ring, and even more now I know something of its history.”

The King nodded. He had been just as impressed by Túveren as his sister and Legolas had told him much of his exploits during the war. Now he had some idea of who their father was, and the company he had kept, the brother and sister went up even further in his estimation. It still did not change the fact of Fuineth’s mortality, though.

Legolas was talking once more. “I told Fuineth I would ask you of Elenros and if you knew him. It would please her greatly if you could tell her something of him, perhaps. Her brother has never spoken of it to her because it is too painful a memory for him.” Legolas paused, his voice quiet now, “His pain is still very great and I do not blame him.”

Thranduil’s face was grim, “No indeed. It must have been truly terrible for him to witness such a thing.” Legolas nodded but said nothing.

“Of course I will tell her of Elenros, and you must get Naril to speak to her also. I am sure that would please her.”

Legolas looked at his father as he said this and a smile flickered across his lips. Thranduil caught his look.

“Why do you smile, Legolas?”

His son shook his head. “Oh nothing. Except it is clear you almost approve of her, do you not?”

Thranduil flushed slightly and looked uncomfortable. “I would not go that far precisely.”

“But?” Legolas was grinning now.

“There is no ‘but’. She is mortal. That is an end to it.”

“And let us say, for the sake of argument, that she weren’t a mortal. What would you think of her then?”

“It was only ever her mortality that was the issue,” countered Thranduil gruffly.

Legolas laughed softly, “Come now, father. If I had been betrothed to anyone other than a Sindar you would have had your reservations.” He held up a hand to stop his father’s interruption, “Don’t try and deny it. You won’t admit it to me, I know, but we both know that to be the case. I want you to tell me, irrespective of her mortality, what do you think of her?”

“I have already told you I like her.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow but said nothing, but his eyes were full of amusement.

Thranduil sighed, “Yes, very well. I think she is marvellously suited to you. There. I have said it. Are you satisfied? It still does not change anything but she is fair, charming, and intelligent and has a spirit that one cannot help but admire. Her family and their history please me much, even for a human. This news you have given me tonight of her father’s friendship with Elenros in particular.”

Legolas beamed but he did not press his father further. He knew that was a great admission for the King to have made.

The King continued, “But it changes nothing. I still do not approve.”

Legolas sighed, even though he smiled still, “I know, father, have no fear. I know it all too well.”

Fuineth was delighted to learn the next day that the King had known Elenros and he was clearly pleased by her interest and her questions of him. Every afternoon when he was free of the day’s business she would sit next to him in the Throne Room, or else they would walk in his garden, as he told her tale after tale and his memories of the elf. A few days passed and still the King had made no decision. Legolas and Naril felt that he really had left it too late and there would be no going back now, but the King did not say anything to them or give any indication of which way his mind was going.

Then, in one of their talks, the subject having diverted onto other things, the King bade Fuineth sit upon a bench amid some flowering shrubs in his garden and sat next to her.

“Lady Fuineth I find you pleasant company indeed, I must confess. I can well understand my son’s love for you.”

She blushed and smiled, “I thank you, my liege. You are too kind.”

She looked at him, her eyes twinkling a little.

He laughed softly at her unasked question, “No. I will never approve, but I think I cannot stop the ceremony now. It is already too late, and besides you will marry whether here or elsewhere, Legolas has made that clear. Now I have got to know you also I would prefer to be here to witness it than cause division between myself and my son.”

Only now did he see the shock in her face. He realised what had happened. He said quietly, “Legolas did not tell you. Forgive me, for having upset you, then. It was thoughtless of me, perhaps, to have mentioned it. If I had stopped to consider I should have guessed he would not have told you since no decision had been made.” She nodded, dumbly, but he could see the tears in her eyes.

When she finally spoke her voice betrayed none of the emotion she was feeling, “You said you only ‘think’ you cannot stop it. Is it still a possibility then?”

He looked at her, and seeing her distress, could not help but feel remorse for having hurt her. He understood now why Legolas had not told her.

“You have to understand how difficult this is for me, Fuineth.”

She nodded, “I do understand. As does your son, though I do not know if you realise how much. I notice you did not answer my question. I will not press you. It is your realm, these are your Halls. We cannot impose our will upon you, nor would it be right for us to do so. I am only sorry to have caused you so much distress, your highness.”

She stood to leave now, her emotions getting the better of her. She knew she was about to cry and did not want to break down in front of him.

As she turned to leave he said softly, “I have not said ‘no’, Lady Fuineth. It is near enough too late now as it is. In fact I feel sure I will allow it and attend.”

She turned, struggling to keep herself calm. “I do not blame you, my liege. But it may interest you to know something I have not even told Legolas. Not yet.”

He looked at her now, his brow creased with incomprehension.

“I will tell you if I have your promise you will not tell him but will allow me to do so in my own time.”

He nodded, “But of course, my dear. What is it?”

She paused, then, “It was something the Lady Galadriel said to me. She spoke privately to me and this is why I have not told Legolas even though it concerned him.” She looked him straight in the eye. “She told me that he would grieve long, but that the memory of what we would share would temper his sorrow and would give him a joy he would never lose. She told me we had made the right decision.”

Thranduil sat astonished at her words. He turned his gaze away from her trying to take this in.

She hesitated, uncertain whether she should still leave or not.

At last he spoke quietly. “Lady Fuineth your words have moved and surprised me. Legolas said as much to me himself as to why he chose the way he did. To have it confirmed by the Lady of the Wood is a comfort to me.” He looked at her. “I had feared the grief would be too much for him.”

She nodded, a tear upon her cheek, “That was my fear too and her words gave me great comfort also.”

He smiled at this shared understanding between them and in that moment he knew she loved Legolas just as much as he did, and that she was as concerned for his son’s well-being as Thranduil was himself. He held out his hand to her and she took it and came to sit next to him, this noble, slightly arrogant, elf: an Elvenking with his crown of flowers about his golden locks.

“I will allow it. I cannot approve, but I will allow it. I ask the Valar to bless this union.”

She caught a sob in her throat at his words and, forgetting herself entirely, she threw her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek. Thranduil laughed. She let him go, blushing furiously, “Forgive me, my liege, I..”

But he just laughed once more and kissed her hand. “It is quite alright my dear. Now go. Go and find your betrothed, my son, and tell him.”

She nodded, smiling and stood to leave. Then she turned back to him, “Thank you, my liege. Your words and blessing mean more to me than I can say and I know they will to Legolas too.” He smiled and nodded and watched her run to find her love.

She found him in one of the antechambers chatting to Gimli and Naril. She beckoned him over. He could see she was excited by the flush in her cheek and looked at her quizzically.

“You should have told me of your father’s possible intentions,” she scolded him.

He looked at her wide-eyed. “What?! How do you..” Then he groaned, “He told you! He had no right.” He held her hands now, his voice concerned, “I did not want to worry or upset you, Fuineth, please forgive me. I did not believe he would truly stop the ceremony so thought perhaps you need never know. I did not mean to hide it from you as such.”

She nodded, “I know. And I thank you for you consideration but you still should have told me all the same. You father was most upset when he realised I hadn’t known. He was very apologetic and worried he had distressed me.”

Legolas nodded. “So he should have been,” he murmured.

“Now, Legolas, don’t. He is not nearly as bad as you grumble to me that he is. I like him. And I have news. We spoke a little about how he felt and that he was still not certain as to his decision.” Legolas looked at her now as she continued, “But he ended by saying he will not stop us and then he asked for the blessings of the Valar upon union. I do not think we could ask for more from him, indeed I was astonished and moved to hear him say such a thing.”

Legolas’s eyes were wide with amazement now, “And so am I, meleth nín. I am pleased, but surprised. He gave no indication of such a sentiment whenever he spoke with me of this before.” He stopped, looking at her more closely, “What exactly did you say to him, Fuineth, for him to have said such a thing?”

She smiled, “I think I made him realise I felt the same as he about you. What I said to him comforted him and allayed some of his concerns I think. I don’t think I said anything wrong, or I hope I did not.”

“No indeed, you can’t have done.”

Legolas said no more though he still looked at her with a wondering curiosity.

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Emyn Duir = Elvish name for the Mountains of Mirkwood that only became so-called after the darkness came to Greenwood. Seems reasonable to think they were once again being called by their old name.

Hithaeglir = Elvish name for the Misty Mountains

Ered Mithrin = the Grey Mountains


I have written a ballad on the deaths of Elenros and Beriorgan as witnessed by Tuveren.
It is available here at openscrolls - http://www.openscrolls.net/fanfic/story.php?no=483
and fanfiction.net - http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1657718


Chapter 26 - The Wedding Day

Well, this is it, folks. The last two chapters and the epilogue. And the second ‘interlude chapter’ as well. I hope you have enjoyed it. Thank you for reading. :)

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Chapter 24 – The Wedding Day


The day before the wedding, just after midday, Arwen and Aragorn arrived. Two stewards came with them, as well as Gwenneth and Mirriel, and also Haldir and his brothers from Lothlorien through which the King and Queen had passed on their journey North. Added to which, representatives of both the Lord Faramir and King Eomer had travelled with them from Minas Tirith.

A messenger came to find Fuineth to bring her to the Throne Room where the guests were being formally greeted. She was in a clearing near the Halls with Naril and Gimli, Legolas having had some business to attend to with his father. As they entered the great chamber Gwenneth and Mirriel rushed to greet her, and then she curtsied before the King and Queen and greeted the Galadhrim whom she was pleased to see once more.

Servants arrived and soon food and wine was laid for all and there was laughter and song for a while. At last the party began to disperse and Arwen came over to Fuineth to ask her to accompany her to her chambers.

“I have something for you, my dear,” was all she would say.

Once there Arwen sat her on the bed while she went to her half-unpacked baggage and looked through it till she found what she was looking for: a small wooden box, simply but beautifully carved. She came over to Fuineth and sat beside her, handing her the box.

“For you my dear, from myself and the King. A wedding gift. I hope you will like it.”

Fuineth smiled and opened the box only to gasp at what she saw inside.

It was a necklace the like of which she had never seen. Delicate wisps of silver intertwined together then threaded and set with gems of white and green. She felt her throat tightening, and could barely murmur, “It is beautiful. I thank you with all my heart. It is a rich gift indeed, and I am much moved by your generosity.”

Arwen smiled, “I am glad it pleases you. It will suit well the dress you were given, I think, will it not?” Fuineth nodded and then looked up at Arwen who laughed, “Galadriel described it to me. It sounds very fine. May I see it?”

“Of course, your highness. It would be my pleasure,” and she led her along the corridors to her own chamber.

When Fuineth brought it out Arwen smiled: it was everything that Galadriel had described. It was of a rich, forest green and of a material so fine and flowing that it near floated. At the neck and shoulders the colour was near that of spring leaves but it darkened as it reached the cuff of the sleeves and the knee of the dress to the richer and darker green of summer. The cut was simple but elegant with long sleeves. The embroidery was exquisite and covered the entire hem petering out up towards the knee, the train of the dress, the cuffs and was all round the neckline. The threads were of gold and silver and traced intricate patterns of leaves, tendrils and flowers and here and there gleamed jewels, white and green, and at the middle of the neckline hung a single pearl.

“Oh but it’s beautiful Fuineth,” gasped Arwen at last.

“I know,” murmured Fuineth still unable to believe she had been given such a thing.

Arwen smiled, “I am glad. The necklace will suit it perfectly. Has Legolas seen it?”

Fuineth shook her head. “He saw it folded up so he knows the colour, but that is all. I offered to show him but he wanted to wait until our wedding day.”

Arwen laughed softly, “You must be so excited!”

She smiled, “I am. I can’t quite believe it will be tomorrow.”

As she put the dress away once more Arwen held her hand out to her. “King Thranduil tells me you have made a great impression on him. Coming from him that is praise indeed. You have done well.”

Fuineth smiled and shook her head, “In truth I have done nothing other than be myself. I am thankful that that alone has been enough for him. I was worried he might be stern with me, but he has been most kind and gracious.” She paused, looking at Arwen, “Thank you for the gift you gave me for him. He liked it very much.”

Arwen nodded and smiled, “You are quite welcome, my dear. I thought he might. I am only glad I was able to help in some small way.”

That night the festivities began. In the afternoon, Elrond and his sons had arrived, as well as Glorfindel and Erestor, since this was to be the wedding of King Thranduil’s son and a member of the Fellowship no less. A little later more guests had arrived, from Dale and Erebor, and there was to be a feast for such prestigious company.

Legolas led Fuineth into the hall upon his arm and as he did so she saw two figures in brown and grey talking to Túveren and Aragorn. She gasped and Legolas smiled at her reaction, knowing who it was she had seen. He led her over. As they approached the men turned and one in particular beamed. She threw her arms about his neck.

“Calloneb! I am so pleased to see you here!”

He grinned and hugged her, “Did you think I would miss this? The marriage of Legolas Greenleaf and the only daughter of my dear friend Beriorgan? Nothing would have stopped me coming!”

She laughed, then turned to look at the grinning elf and men round her with a look of astonishment, though they could see the laughter in her eyes. “You knew! You all knew and you didn’t tell me?” and they roared.

Legolas hugged her and said, “It was a little thing perhaps, but we wanted to surprise you.”

Just then there came a cough behind Fuineth and she turned to see the Rohirrim who had come with the King that morning smiling shyly, “Forgive me, Lady Fuineth, but I have something for you that was sent to me from your aunt in Rohan as a wedding gift for you. I have already given the gifts from King Eomer to Lord Legolas, but felt I should give you these myself.”

She nodded and smiled gratefully as both she and Legolas followed him while he moved to one side where, on a chair, lay a large leather saddlebag. He bent down and took out three items.

The first was a long dagger, well made and with a fine scabbard intricately decorated in the Rohirric style. The hilt was inlaid with gold and fashioned with the same pattern as the scabbard.

“This is for you, Lord Legolas,” he said as he bowed slightly.

Legolas nodded his head and murmured appreciatively as he studied it. Then the Rohirrim turned to Fuineth.

“Your aunt sent you this,” he handed her some fine cloth, embroidered along its edge with the same Rohirric knot design Fuineth knew and loved so well, and then he handed her a cup.

It was a simple thing. No intricate design, though elegant. It was made of silver and about its rim were inlaid four blue jewels. Fuineth stood absolutely still as she took it from the man. Both he and Legolas could see it held some significance for her because she flushed and her eyes filled with tears as she saw it. She looked at it, held it close to her and then looked up at him, “I thank you, my lord. You have discharged a great service for my aunt. I am most grateful.”

He nodded, “You are welcome, Lady Fuineth.” Exchanging a glance with Legolas he left them then since a tear had escaped her eye as she had spoken to him.

Legolas came to her now. “Fuineth? What is it? This cup has some significance for you, does it not? Was it your uncle’s?”

She nodded. “It was a wedding gift to him from my mother.” Legolas kissed her cheek as he took her into his arms.

Túveren, having heard these were gifts from their aunt came over to them. When he saw the cup he immediately understood and smiled sadly and left the two alone to thank the Rohirrim for the duty he had discharged. When she had taken the gifts to her chambers and returned she had shaken the melancholy from her.

The feast was a fine one and the guests were sated and happy as the music and singing began. Elrond had congratulated the pair and, now his sons and the Galadhrim were all together once more, they had taken the opportunity to tease Legolas mercilessly about how he denied his love for so long yet they had all known. Now people were dispersed in groups all round the hall sitting and standing, laughing and talking.

Legolas and Fuineth took the opportunity of the throng to escape outside into the night air. They walked hand in hand for a little while till they reached a small clearing ringed with great beeches.

Legolas sat, his back up against one of the trunks, staring up into the night sky clear above them. “This was one of my favourite places when I was an elfling. I would lie flat on my back there,” he indicated the middle of the clearing, “and stare up at the stars.”

Fuineth smiled, “I cannot imagine you young and small.”

He laughed, “Oh, I assure you I was once. Very small and quite unlearned. I would fall out of trees and miss targets with my bow and fall off my horse. I had a lot to learn.”

She laughed, “I just can’t imagine you like that at all, though I do not doubt it is all true.”

He grinned, “Naril remembers. He is older than me as you know. He had the misfortune of teaching me to ride a horse. Nearly laughed himself sick to see me struggling to stay on. The first time I tried I was very, very young and I slid half way round the poor animal’s flank and was hanging off sideways till at last I fell off straight into a muddy stream bank. I was covered head to toe in mud and all Naril could do was roar with laughter. I was so angry I stormed all the way back the Halls and refused to get back on a horse for a week.” Fuineth and he laughed.

She stood, still giggling at the thought of him, tiny and defiant, covered in mud with a scowl on his face and his hands on his hips. She held out her hand to him and then pulled him to the centre of the clearing before lying down flat on her back.

“Well, then,” she grinned up at him, “Will you join me, Lord Legolas? I want to see what was so special about this spot.”

He grinned and lay down beside her, holding her hand, his head touching hers. She could feel him laughing quietly, “I have not done this in I do not know how long.”

“All the more reason to do it, then,” she said as he raised her hand to his lips to kiss it.

As she stared upwards at the stars he turned to look at her. He raised himself up on one elbow and stroked her face with his hand. She turned towards him now and smiled.

“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” he asked gently.

She nodded, “Very much. A little nervous, with all those people there.”

He smiled, “No need to be nervous. Though I am sure I will be just as nervous as you.”

She looked surprised then, “You? Nervous? Not possible!”

He laughed softly while he bent over her to kiss her. They stayed like that, kissing in the moonlight, her arms wrapped around his back while he stroked her hair with his free hand. He gazed at her in his arms, the moonlight shining in her eyes, and glinting off her dark hair splayed out around her on the grass.

“Non melethron lín, Fuineth.”

“Non melethrin lín, Legolas,” she replied and then, quietly, “Haryaccë indonya.”

He smiled, his eyes wide with surprise. She had just used words she would say tomorrow. Moved by this he began his vows to her then and there, “Linda lótë nórelyo, anvanya yeldë Roccoliéva ar Nunataniva..”

She gasped, smiling, and stopped him with a finger to his lips, “Tomorrow, meleth nín.” He smiled and kissed her finger and then her lips once more.

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Fuineth’s butterflies started from the moment she woke up that morning, or rather was woken by Elsbeth bursting into her room in complete over-excitement with Gwenneth and Mirriel not far behind her. She refused to come and eat anything that morning and, so her absence wouldn’t be noticed in the halls where food was being served, Elsbeth came down to take back up some fruit, milk, bread and honey for the women to eat in Fuineth’s chambers.

Legolas and Túveren exchanged a glance as she did so.

“What was that about?”

Túveren shrugged, “She didn’t say anything to me. Just took the food and left.”

Arwen, passing behind them, smiled as she overheard, “There is a wedding today, after all, and we need to help the bride prepare. In fact,” she looked at Aragorn and dropped his arm, “I think I will go and join them.”

She walked off leaving an astonished Aragorn behind her.

When Arwen knocked on Fuineth’s chamber door and came in she found excited chattering going on as they discussed how they were going to dress Fuineth’s hair later that day. Fuineth was sat in the middle of all this, still in her nightshift, and looking pale and nervous. Arwen came to sit beside her.

“Will you not eat something, Fuineth?”

Fuineth shook her head, “I do not think I could, your highness.”

Arwen insisted gently, “You will need your strength. It’s going to be a long and tiring day for you, and it was a late night last night also.”

Mirriel said something in a whisper about a late night this coming night too and the other two giggled.

Arwen smiled, “I heard that, Mirriel, and that is not what I meant when I said it would be tiring.”

Fuineth went pink, and they all laughed.

“Shame on you, Mirriel, you are embarrassing her,” said Elsbeth kindly.

Mirriel smiled towards Fuineth, “Forgive me, Fuineth. I meant nothing by it.”

Fuineth smiled weakly, “Do not fear, Mirriel. If I were not feeling quite so sick I might have laughed also.”

On hearing her say this they all insisted she have a least a bite of something to eat.

“Honey is excellent for the stomach,” Gwenneth was saying and Arwen was agreeing.

Reluctantly Fuineth accepted some bread and honey and she had to admit she did feel better for it. After a little while a bath was brought and filled for her and, while the others left her so they could dress, she tried to soak some of the nervousness away and not think about it for a little while. She washed her hair, glad to have a little time so it would dry before she had to get ready. She dressed in one of the dresses King Thranduil had given her as a betrothal gift – sky blue with silver trim – and then went to find Elsbeth.


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Elsbeth and the other women were now downstairs in one of the smaller antechambers with Arwen and several of the Eryn Lasganlen ladies of the court. The men seemed to be keeping themselves separate to a large extent and a natural division took place for the morning as each sex grouped itself round the bride or groom.

Legolas had decided go for a ride to try and burn off some of his nervousness and it had turned into an impromptu hunting party with Aragorn, Calloneb and the other Dúnedan, Túveren, the Galadhrim, Naril, Elladan and Elrohir as well as a few Eryn Lasgalen nobles coming along. Even Gimli would have joined them except he was deep in talk with the Erebor dwarves.

Fuineth, on the other hand, decided to go for a walk and let her hair dry in the sunshine for a while and the Queen, Elsbeth and the two ladies-in-waiting came with her. They chattered of this and that but largely focused on the dance and feast tonight. Gwenneth was teasing Mirriel about various males Mirriel might dance with later but Mirriel was giving as good in return. The others laughed to see them.

Gwenneth scolded them though she was far from serious in her tone, “It’s all very well for you to laugh. Two of you are already married, the other nearly so.”

“Oh you will find someone soon enough, Gwenneth,” returned Arwen, “Besides you had several suitors at the dance in Minas Tirith I seem to remember. One of the Citadel guards was among them, was he not? You danced a lot with him at Elsbeth’s wedding also.”

Gwenneth went pink.

Elsbeth gasped, “Oh, I know who you mean! He’s very handsome,” and she winked at Fuineth who giggled.

Mirriel joined in, “Very. And looks at you so longingly, Gwenneth. Poor man. You should put him out of his misery.”

There were peals of laughter and poor Gwenneth was now red. “I’ll have you know he is very charming. And while he has not made his intentions known he did say he wished to speak to me on my return to Minas Tirith.”

They stopped laughing and were smiling broadly now.

Mirriel was excited, “Gwenneth! Really?”

Elsbeth and Arwen were grinning from ear to ear, and Fuineth laughed softly, “Well aren’t you a dark one, Gwenneth. You have kept that very quiet.”

Gwenneth stuck her tongue out at her, “Well I didn’t say anything because I don’t know what he wants to talk about. Not for certain.”

They all laughed once more.

“Well it won’t be about the weather!” grinned Elsbeth.

“No,” said Mirriel, “It’ll be about something far more interesting I am sure. ‘Oh, Gwenneth, how I love you. Oh kiss me, Gwenneth, kiss me! Your eyes are like stars! Your skin like silk! Your thighs so tender to my touch!’”

Gwenneth giggled in spite of herself. Arwen tried to sound shocked as she gasped “Mirriel!” but instead all five erupted into peals of laughter.

“Well it’s true! That’s how they all are, isn’t it?” said Mirriel.

Gwenneth tried to sound prim, “I am sure I wouldn’t know.”

Arwen looked at her in disbelief, “Has he never kissed you, Gwenneth?”

Gwenneth’s eyes twinkled, “I didn’t say that.”

And the five burst into laughter once more. Then they insisted on her telling them about when and where this had happened and what it had been like while the other four compared notes and passed comment. All this was done with much conspiratorial giggling and laughter.

Just as they did so the hunting party rode past.

All five suddenly looked vaguely sheepish as if they had been caught in the middle of something, which in truth they had.

The riders slowed as they passed by and nodded their heads, to a man (and elf) amused by the discomfort they had clearly caused the women since they had heard their laughter before they had arrived and the fact that they had fallen now into an embarrassed silence and stifled giggles as soon as they had seen them spoke volumes.

Aragorn and Túveren raised their eyebrows at their wives and then each other. Fuineth caught Legolas’s eye as he grinned at her and she flushed and tried not to laugh. None of the women looked at one another since they knew that if they did they would collapse into peals of giggles.

They nodded their greetings as the riding party passed by them and then, as the last of the rider’s backs was turned to them and disappearing into the trees, they erupted once more into even louder laughter than before. The riders, hearing them, all looked at each other.

Elladan shook his head, “I do not even want to know what that was about.” And there was laughter and agreement from everyone around him.


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While the riders and walkers passed an hour or two of the early morning in chatter and entertainment, the elves were busy making the final preparations of the glade where it would all take place. Tables were set out, cushions and seats laid, meats roasted and prepared, sweetmeats had been baked and cakes and pastries readied.

Sometime in the mid-morning, just as Fuineth was returning to her chambers, Gandalf arrived in time to greet the riders as they returned. All were glad to see him and he was quickly bustled inside to greet Gimli, Thranduil and Elrond in the halls.

Legolas was beginning to feel nervous once more and Gimli encouraged the others to crowd round him and distract him with chatter. After a little while, though, Legolas said he needed some air and refused all offers of company heading off instead to walk a little by the river near the bridge outside the gates just under the eaves of the trees.

As he walked he fancied he heard singing. This was not unusual in itself, indeed there were many voices, songs and much laughter to be heard, but this cut through the rest, or it did for him. He stopped, tilting his head slightly as he listened and then realised he recognised the voice. Recognised the song, indeed.

He looked up towards the slope into which the caves of his father’s hall were cut, scanning with his sharp eyes the dense foliage there. Then he saw her, standing high above him at the window of her chamber, looking out with unseeing eyes and singing to herself; singing the same song that she had sung when first they had met. He felt his heart move within him as he watched her and, as it did so, all his nerves left him. He was filled now only with the thought that within a few hours she would be his, bonded and wedded. A broad smile spread across his face. She did not see him.

She finished her song, stood there for a few moments more and then was gone from his sight, but Legolas returned then to the halls a far calmer and happier elf than he had been all morning.


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At last Fuineth was ready. Elsbeth, Mirriel and Gwenneth stepped back to admire their handiwork while Arwen smiled, watching Fuineth from the bed were she was sat. Then they led her down the stairs and through the corridors of the Halls and met Túveren coming to find them.

He gasped as he saw his sister and smiled broadly, “You look wonderful, Fuineth.”

She flushed while the others murmured their agreement. The women went ahead of them then while Túveren and Fuineth took their time, walking arm in arm. At last the women reached the glade where the guests were waiting and Arwen took her place next to her husband upon the dais. She caught Legolas’s eye and smiled.

He was dressed entirely in green and gold. His tunic, made of the finest materials and in a dark, rich green, was decorated with detailed gold embroidery all over it, emeralds and diamonds shone upon his collar, cuffs and belt while upon his shining golden hair was a garland of flowers to match his father’s and beneath it shone a single band of gold about his head.

Legolas was standing in front of a low dais at one end of the glade upon which sat his father with King Elessar and his wife on one side of him and Lord Elrond and Gandalf on the other. Gimli and Naril were standing next to Legolas and the twins, Glorfindel, Erestor, the Dúnedain and the Galadhrim were not far behind him. There was a large crowd filling the glade and milling about and chattering, though getting quieter now since they had seen Queen Arwen arrive and knew the bride would not be far behind. As Legolas and Gimli exchanged a grin a silence fell upon the company and Legolas looked up.

He could see the crowd moving, parting, the silence broken with gasps and murmurs now. Then he saw her, walking towards him at the far end of the glade upon her brother’s arm. The dress had fitted her perfectly, as Galadriel had said it would, and its colour, almost floating and blending into the glade around her, was reflected and shone in the jewels on the necklace the King and Queen had given her only enhancing its beauty, and hers, all the more. They had twisted some of her hair back from her face, securing it with a jewelled hair clasp that was Elsbeth’s wedding gift to her, leaving the rest trailing darkly down her back. They had twined flowers in her hair and also she wore a garland of white flowers and green buds around her head to match Legolas’s. Her betrothal ring shone bright upon her finger and her eyes were glinting with pleasure as she smiled at him.

Legolas felt his breath and heart stop as he saw her, so astounded was he by how beautiful she looked. He barely heard his father speak and welcome the guests and speak words of blessing upon the impending nuptial. It was only as Túveren left her side and Naril discretely coughed beside him that Legolas awoke from his reverie and realised she stood there waiting for him, still some distance away, and he began to walk towards her.

They did not speak but their gazes held each other and their smiles seemed to those watching to be the warmest and fondest possible. But, even as he neared her, the dancers came forward to form two concentric rings around and between the lovers. The music and singing started and the two lines of dancers began to move, hand in hand, in opposite directions and so formed a double barrier between Fuineth, now standing in the middle of them, and Legolas, now moving slowly round the outer circle gazing at her all the while. He went once around the circle and then he stopped. The outer chain broke where he was and closed behind him. Once round in the opposite direction now between the lines of dancers, again never taking his eyes from her. Once more he stopped and the inner chain opened for him and he was now in the circle with her. He moved over to her, took her hand and, kneeling upon one knee, he kissed it tenderly. As he did so the music stopped, the dancers’ song faded and they opened a passage for the two to then move back up the glade, hand in hand now, towards the dais where Thranduil stood to meet them.

They stood in front of the dais and Legolas reached for her other hand so that now both her hands were in his. They gazed smilingly at each other. The expression on his face was so full of love for her that many were moved to see him, and his voice was tender with his emotion as he began to speak.

“A linda lótë nórelyo, avanya yeldë Roccoliéva ar Nunaraniva, Fuineth yendë Beriorgano, haryacce indonya. Quentin lyenna melissenya: melemma lá pole rácina an Erunen ná aina ar mána. Endanysse, meladanya, meluvanyel ambar-metta pella. Herinya; melmenya.”

She could see the tears in his eyes and she knew her eyes were glistening also. She thought she would burst with pleasure but smiled, her face aglow with all that she felt for him, as she in turn gave her promise.

“A Cunduwa Laiqaitaurë ar Heruva Isilnorë, Legolas Thranduilion, haryaccë indonya. Vandea ëá mi le sí ar harmuvanyë annalya indossënya. Endanysse, meladanya, meluvanyeal ambar-metta pella. Herunya; melmenya.”

He smiled, even as a tear of joy rolled down her cheek.

They stayed absolutely still for a moment, relishing and taking in what had just occurred. Then Legolas, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, gently bent his head to kiss his wife and a cheer went up from the crowd.


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non melethron / melethrin lín = I love you (m/f)

haryaccë indonya = (Quenya) You have my heart

linda lótë nórelyo = (Quenya) beautiful flower of your land

anvanya yeldë Roccoliéva ar Nunatani = (Quenya) fairest daughter of the Rohirrim (lit. Horse-People) and the Dunedain

meleth nin = my love

Legolas’s wedding promise: ‘O beautiful flower of your land, the fairest daughter of the People of the Horses and the Dunedain, Fuineth, daughter of Beriorgan, you have my heart. I say to you my love: our love cannot be broken for it is by Eru holy and blessed. In my heart, my beloved, I shall love you beyond the end of the world. My lady; my love.’

Fuineth’s wedding promise: ‘O Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Lord of Ithilien, Legolas son of Thranduil, you have my heart. A promise lives within you now and I shall treasure your gift in my heart. In my heart, my beloved, I shall love you beyond the end of the world. My lord; my love.’


Acknowledgements for the construction of the wedding vows:

‘A linda lótë nórelyo, avanya yeldë Roccoliéva’ is the first line of ‘Lindë Roccalassen’ by Alese Bican – a beautiful poem in Quenya about Eowyn – that is published on Ardalambion and his own site elm (which Ardalambion has a link to).

‘Quentin lyenna melissenya: melemma lá pole rácina ... an Erunen ná aina ar mána. Endanysse, meladanya, meluvanyel ambar-metta pella’ are lines from the Quenya poem ‘Melme’ (meaning ‘Love’) by Petra Tikka and published on the sites elm and Men Eldalambien.

The use of the lines ‘I shall treasure your gift in my heart’ comes from ‘Ballads’ by Moralanqua – a fanfic in which Haldir says this in his wedding vows – however I had it translated into different elvish than that used in that story.

I must thank Elb for her help with translating the wedding vows into Quenya. It’s a good opportunity to also thank both her and NL for all their help with my Sindarin queries for the rest of this story. *hugs them* Without them I would have been completely sunk.


Chapter 27 - Wedding Feast

25 – Wedding Feast


Even as Legolas kissed her, Thranduil stepped down to them to ask blessing from the Valar on their union and then he kissed Fuineth and called her ‘daughter’. As everyone then took their places Legolas led his wife to the top table where they were the guests of honour, though in truth neither could eat much so delighted and full of emotion were they.

As they sat, listening and replying to the talk around them, Legolas took her hand and she looked at him. They had barely spoken and now he smiled at her and murmured, “Well, Fuineth, it is done.” She smiled, shyly, and nodded.

He bent to kiss her once more, and whispered, “Hervess nín,” and she felt herself shudder to hear it.

When he pulled back from the kiss and was still close she murmured, “Hervenn nín,” and Legolas beamed.

They both laughed softly at these new, wonderful titles for each other.

Once the feast was finished, and everyone sated, the tables were pulled back under the trees, and some removed completely, to clear space for the dancing. The Dorwinion flowed freely and the music struck up but though some sang no one began to dance. Legolas turned to Fuineth.

“They are waiting for us. Come, meleth nín.”

He took her by the hand and they went to the middle of the glade. As they did so the music died as the musicians readied themselves and the glade began to fill with couples for the first dance. As ever the Galadhrim and the twins had their pick of the many beautiful women and elf-maids there, while Arwen let Thranduil, as host, have the first dance with her. Her husband and father would have to wait.

Fuineth and Legolas were lost in their own world as they moved and met and parted to meet again round and round the circle the dancers had formed. Their eyes never left each other. Every time they came close Legolas would murmur to her, calling her his love, his heart, his wife, till she was pink with excitement and pleasure.

As the dance ended he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He sighed as he smiled down at her, “Ai, I cannot quite believe you are mine, Fuineth. The day I dreamed of, and which once I never hoped to imagine, is here. You are in my arms. You are my wife.”

She smiled, “And you my husband. Oh, Legolas! I cannot even begin to tell you how happy I am.”

He kissed her and said, “As am I, meleth nín; happier than I ever thought possible.”

At last, after several dances together, Legolas relinquished Fuineth to her brother’s charge when he asked for a dance with his sister and Legolas turned to find Aragorn and Gandalf waiting to congratulate him.

Aragorn embraced him warmly. Gandalf just chuckled, “Well now, I am pleased for you, Legolas Greenleaf. Pleased indeed. She is a fine woman.”

Legolas beamed, “She is indeed.”

Gandalf nodded, “Your father has been telling me what an impression she has made on him. Considering that he no doubt disapproves of your union that is remarkable indeed.”

Legolas smiled, “I am not surprised. I knew he would like her, even if it would take a little time for him to get to know her. It is why I insisted he meet her as soon as possible and that the marriage take place here. I wanted him to meet her and understand something of my decision.”

Aragorn interjected, “Even so. Forgive me, Legolas, but your father can be, how shall I put it, a little set in his ways at times? What did she do to make him like her so?”

“Well, you perhaps know of the gifts she brought?”

Aragorn grinned and nodded but turned to explain to Gandalf, “Arwen gave her a gold buckle studded with jewels for her to give to him.”

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. “A rich gift indeed,” he muttered, and his eyes glinted with laughter.

Legolas laughed, “Well, yes, and it was greatly appreciated as was to be expected perhaps, and one that immediately made a good impression, but more than that...”

He paused and grinned. Aragorn and Gandalf looked at him closely.

He continued, “She answered him back when they first spoke to each other.”

Aragorn spluttered into his cup of wine and Gandalf’s eyebrows shot upwards as he said, “She is brave indeed to have done such a thing. Whatever was she thinking?”

Legolas laughed, “He was very impressed by it. She has not told me what happened, indeed I am not entirely sure she realises what dangerous ground she was upon to do so, but he told me that she was most courteous and charming in her speech but plainly told him that he was utterly wrong about what he thought of me and my decision.”

Aragorn was laughing now, “I am not sure if that would be the Rohirrim or the Dúnedain within her for her to be so bold.”

Gandalf said, his tone serious but his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I imagine it was both, Aragorn. It is a dangerous combination when mixed I do not doubt. Both are a proud, noble and warrior-like people. You will have your hands full I imagine with such a one as a wife, Legolas.”

He laughed, “Not at all. She is free spirited, it is true, but in a way that is very elvish. She loves to run and ride, feel the wind in her hair and simply be herself, just as I do. It is why I love her so. From the very first I saw that in her. She is strong, and unafraid to do what she feels is right, and yet she is amongst the gentlest people I have ever met.” Gandalf and Aragorn both smiled to hear him talk so.

Aragorn laid his hand upon his shoulder, “I am glad for you, Legolas, truly.” Then as he looked up he could see the dance had finished and Túveren was returning Legolas’s bride to him. “Here,” said Aragorn, “Here she is for you. Go dance. Enjoy this day.”

And so the dancing continued even as dusk fell and torches were tied to the trees around the edge of the clearing. Legolas and Fuineth laughed and giggled as they danced and he would whisper in her ear and they would kiss sometimes as they met in mid-turn till at last Fuineth was gasping for breath and begging for mercy so they stopped and rested a while. Legolas led her to one side to drink some wine while sitting on some cushions.

He looked at her as she watched the dancing. He sighed and lifted one hand to her face, “You are beautiful, Fuineth. You are always beautiful but today especially so. I cannot keep my eyes off you.”

She flushed a little, “Thank you, Legolas. I am glad the dress pleases you.”

“It does in truth, and the necklace, but they only enhance your beauty not provide it alone.”

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. “And you look very handsome and princely today, hervenn nín.”

He grinned, “Ah so you noticed?”

She giggled. “I notice also your father is wearing the belt buckle I gave him. I am pleased he thought enough of it to wear it this day.”

Legolas nodded then grinned, “You never told me you spoke back to him.”

She looked surprised, “What do you mean?”

“He told me, after that first time you spoke. It is the reason he first began to like you and understand why I love you so. You told him he was wrong. Very politely, so he said, but even so.”

He could tell she was worried now, not having realised before that what she had said that day was quite so serious. He spoke more gently, “Have no fear, Fuineth. You did right, but you did something most would not have had the courage to do. It was well perhaps you did not know my father or know of him before you met otherwise you would have never dared to do such a thing.”

She was blushing now, “I did hesitate from speaking, I will admit. But I felt it was best that he know what I felt. I thought what he said about you was unjust and I told him so.”

Legolas drew his breath in over his teeth even while he laughed, “That was brave indeed, meleth nín. I do not know of anyone other than myself who might dare tell him so. Except Gandalf possibly.”

She looked down now, “Did I do wrong, Legolas?”

He shook his head, laughed and held her hand, “No, Fuineth, you did not. By it he saw your character and your love for me. By it you showed him the things he needed to know. You did well. I am glad you did it. And so is he. He told me so himself that very night.” She nodded and smiled, reassured by his words.

There was a pause before Legolas spoke once more, his eyes glinting mischievously now, “There is something else I would know.”

She looked at him and seeing the expression on his face she grinned, wondering what he was about. “Yes, Legolas?”

“Yes,” he said and drew himself closer to her, putting down his wine, so he had one arm about her waist and the other behind her on the cushions. “This morning. When we passed by you as we set out for our ride.” Fuineth was giggling now as he continued, “What exactly was going on?”

She looked at him her eyes full of laughter and her smile broad, “Well, I am not sure I should tell you, hervenn nín, it was, after all, a private conversation.”

Legolas grinned, his face closer, “So it appeared. You all looked very embarrassed to have us suddenly there, if truth be told. We wondered much what you had been discussing.”

Fuineth giggled but said nothing.

“You will not tell me?”

He raised an eyebrow now. She shook her head, biting her lip to stop her laughter.

Legolas had an expression on his face that he reserved especially for mischievous children. The gleam in his eye was unmistakeable. “Uh-ho, we can’t have this,” he murmured, laughing and shaking his head.

Fuineth was off, Legolas chasing after her.

She darted in and out of the trees and then tried to speed her way between the revellers but even as she turned aside to do so he caught her. She giggled and squealed as he grabbed her, tickling her as he did so, their movements taking them into the shadows of the trees slightly.

He was laughing at her and saying quietly even as she struggled, laughing in his arms, “Did I not tell you to never try an outrun an elf?”

She laughed, breathless, “You did, Legolas, but I had to try nonetheless.”

He was standing behind her, holding her round her waist his face pressed against her cheek as he laughed into her ear. “Ah, but I would always catch you, Fuineth.”

She turned to him now and giggled, “But isn’t the fun in the chase?”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Well there is that, it is true. But we are done with our chasing now, are we not? We have caught each other this day and that is just as pleasant, is it not?”

She smiled, “Yes indeed, meleth nín. This day you have me and you are mine also. Forever.”

He bent his head towards her and their lips met. His hand moved up to hold her by the neck even as she held him round his back. Their lips moved, parted and their tongues entwined, searching and tasting each other.

Legolas had to stop himself from taking her away from the dance then and there, so strong was his sudden desire for her, but he knew they would have to wait a little longer before they could leave and take delight in each other to the fullest.

He began to kiss along her jaw, even as he thought about the night they would share together, and when he reached the top of her neck he nibbled up to her earlobe and licked it gently with the tip of his tongue. He could hear her breathing heavily into his ear. He broke their passionate embrace, and saw her eyes were closed in delight, but when she opened them as he pulled away the disappointment was clear upon her face.

He laughed softly and kissed her lightly on the lips once more saying, “Not yet, Fuineth,” he murmured, and then continued, “We should return, hervess nín, would you care to dance some more?”

She shook her head, “No in truth. I wish only to sit with you and know that you are near me. Perhaps in a little while. Would you mind, Legolas, if we sat another dance out together?”

He shook his head, “Not at all, meleth nín. Like you it is enough for me to be with you and whether that is seated or dancing it is of no consequence.”

She smiled, kissed him and then they walked back, hand in hand, to the clearing once more.


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Roasted meats had been brought again, now that night had fallen. The top table was filled with the guests of honour, but the rest of the guests ate as they were on the cushions and seats round the edge of the glade. Minstrels sang ballads and love songs as they ate.

Fuineth knew that she and Legolas would leave the revels soon and was filled with a sense of nervousness and excitement once more. It was true that she was enjoying the celebration, but what she really wanted was simply to be alone with him, not even to kiss and hold him, but to be alone without disturbance or distraction. She knew it was foolish, that she had her whole life ahead of her for that, but at that moment it was all she could think of.

She had grown quiet and Legolas watched her as they sat at the high table. Thranduil was regaling everyone with a tale of Doriath but Legolas could tell she was barely listening.

“Fuineth,” he whispered, “Is anything amiss, my love?”

She looked at him, smiling shyly, “No, not at all, Legolas. Nothing could be more perfect. Why do you ask?”

He smiled, “You seem a little distracted.” She blushed a little then and he guessed what she was thinking of. He leant close to her and kissed behind her ear and whispered quietly as he did so, “We will leave soon enough, my love, and then you can relax once more.” She smiled.

So at last, after speeches and song, the dancing started again under the stars and by the bright torch light. Laughter was long and loud as the Dorwinion flowed and many were singing raucously under the trees now while others gesticulated wildly over their cups. Everyone was thoroughly enjoying themselves. Legolas and Fuineth had finished another dance together and for once did not find someone near either asking one of them for a dance or else to congratulate them or engage them in conversation. They both exchanged a glance and arm in arm they began to walk slowly toward the trees.

They had barely reached them when they heard a voice.

“Ah! You leaving? It’s still early yet, stay a while!”

They turned to find Rúmil grinning at them with Elladan’s arm round his shoulder.

Legolas smiled, “Just going for a walk.”

The two elves nodded wisely. Elladan lurched toward Fuineth, taking her arm in his, “Did I ever tell you, my lady, what we think of Legolas? He is a fine catch you know. You should be proud of yourself. I mean to say,” he gestured wildly, and not a little drunkenly, at the trees next to him, “All this is his! Or will be.”

Legolas was trying hard not to laugh, “Elladan would you mind unhanding my wife? We were hoping to have a little break from the festivities not be pestered by the likes of you.”

Elladan stuck his tongue out at him while Rúmil now took Fuineth by the other arm and the two started to lead her back towards the dance. She looked over her shoulder pleadingly at Legolas, though her eyes were laughing at this drunken performance by the pair.

He laughed to see her and stepped forward, “Rumil! Elladan! Where are you taking my bride?”

The two stopped, looked at each other across Fuineth and then looked at Legolas as if it should have been patently obvious to him where they were taking her. “Why, to get another drink, of course!” and they both laughed.

Fuineth managed to extricate herself, biting her cheeks not to laugh out loud.

Legolas grinned, “Are you sure that is wise, given the state you are both in?”

Orophin and Túveren, seeing the commotion, had come over to investigate. “Brother,” Orophin was saying, “What are you up to now?”

Legolas explained, “They were trying to steal my wife away on the pretext of getting more Dorwinion.”

“Were they now?” said Túveren with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Orophin exhanged a glance with Legolas as he said, “I feel this warrants a forfeit, don’t you Túveren?”

Legolas started to laugh.

“Yes indeed, my dear Orophin,” replied Túveren, “What would you suggest?”

Rúmil and Elladan started to protest but Túveren, Orophin and Legolas had a firm hold on them both now and even as they spoke Elrohir, Haldir and Naril arrived.

Legolas stepped back to join Fuineth who was in helpless giggles.

“What is going on?” asked Haldir.

Túveren summed up the situation, “They were harassing my sister and they need to be taught a lesson.”

“Indeed?”

The three new arrivals smirked and before another word could be said Rúmil and Elladan were picked up bodily and carried off through the trees. Rúmil and Elladan tried to object with an “Now look here..!” and that was the last Legolas and Fuineth saw of any of them for the evening.

As they watched them all disappear off into the gloom carrying the two struggling elves away, the newlyweds both looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Then, grinning, Legolas grabbed her hand, “Come on, quickly! Before someone else tries to waylay us!” And he pulled her, running, into the darkness of the trees.

Only once they were some way from the festivities and, though they could still hear the music and laughter it was fading a little, did Legolas stop, pull her to him and kiss her long and deep. At last he let her go and they walked hand in hand for a little while under the trees with the moonlight slanting through the branches and lighting their way for them.

Fuineth giggled, “What will they do to them?” She caught the smirk on his face and laughed as she added, “Perhaps I don’t want to know.”

“Safer we don’t know, I would imagine, given one is the son of Elrond and the other a Galadhrim.”

“I suppose so. But whatever is done will have also been perpetrated by another son of Elrond and two other Galadhrim, do not forget.”

Legolas laughed, “Well it won’t be anything too dreadful. Probably tie them upside down to a tree somewhere or hanging from a branch and leave them there to sober up. That’s usually what happens.” He paused and grinned, “Unless they dye Rúmil’s hair again, of course.”

Fuineth burst out laughing, “You aren’t serious?”

“Perfectly. Rather fetching shade of green it was too.”

Fuineth looked at him, shocked, and they both roared.



hervess nin = my wife

hervenn nin = my husband


Chapter 28 - Epilogue

Epilogue

And so Legolas and Fuineth began their married life together. After so much denial and hardship they now walked a path in each others’ company that was wonder for those around them to see. Their love for each other never faded, but only grew and strengthened with each passing year.

There were no children. Fuineth lost two pregnancies and the second time was herself nearly lost to Legolas. Seeing her in that illness Legolas decided that there would be no children – elves being able to control such matters – and though Fuineth pleaded he would not relent. He would lose her all too soon. He was not willing to risk losing her any sooner.

Ithilien became a bright and wonderful place under their stewardship. Lord Faramir would come and visit them often, as would Túveren and the King and Queen and Gimli, of course. But at last, as was inevitable, Fuineth began to age. She was still beautiful, though grey now, proud and tall still. Legolas felt he loved her more now than ever he had before and yet his heart was filled with foreboding as he saw her beginning to weaken and tire.

Some four years before Meriadoc and Peregrin came south to Minas Tirith for their last journey there before their deaths, Fuineth was in her last sickness. Her brother had died three years previously and Legolas had grieved long at his passing, not only because he was very dear to him but also because it meant Fuineth’s time would be coming soon.

As she lay in bed, her white hair upon the pillow, Legolas sat beside her and would not leave her bedside. He held her hand and they spoke quietly, remembering their life together and the times they had shared. At times Legolas would weep, unable to contain his distress and she would raise her thin hand, stroke his face, speak soft words to him and tell him not to fear.

“We knew this time would come, meleth nín. We knew, and we made our choice. Do not let me think you regret that decision now.”

Legolas looked at her and shook his head and kissed her hand. “Never, meleth nín.”

She smiled, “Good. I am glad.”

She coughed a little and had to stop to get her breath.

Legolas looked concerned, “Do not try and speak, Fuineth, you need to rest.”

She shook her head, “No. There is something I wish to tell you. I have kept this in my heart all this time. Forgive me for never telling you till now, I do not know why I did so.”

He looked at her, puzzled, “What is it, meleth nín? What have you to tell me?”

She smiled, “What the Lady Galadriel said to me, that first time we went to Lothlorien on our way to Eryn Lasgalen to marry.” She stopped again, catching her breath.

Legolas smiled now. He remembered well their visit, how he had first taught her love there and how she had delighted in his showing her the place now fading fast since the Lady had gone West.

Fuineth continued, “You had told me she could speak to people in their heads, without talking.”

Legolas nodded, “And she did so with you?”

Fuineth’s head nodded weakly. “She told me not to fear. That we had made the right decision. That you would lose me, that you would grieve terribly, but the memory you would have of our time together would be the happiest of your life. That you would carry that memory West with you and remember our time with joy.”

Legolas wept openly as he heard her words, and a tear rolled down Fuineth’s cheek as she saw his distress. She raised a hand to his face, “Please, meleth nín. Please don’t. Haryaccë indonya.”

He looked at her as she used the phrase from their wedding vows. He held her hand and kissed it and then, gently, quietly said to her, “A linda lótë nórelyo, avanya yeldë Roccoliéva ar Nunaraniva, Fuineth yendë Beriorgano, haryacce indonya. Quentin lyenna melissenya: melemma lá pole rácina an Erunen ná aina ar mána. Endanysse, meladanya, meluvanyel ambar-metta pella. Herinya; melmenya.”

She smiled, breathing with difficulty now, her voice getting quieter and quieter as she replied, “A Cunduwa Laiqaitaurë ar Heruva Isilnorë, Legolas Thranduilion, haryaccë indonya. Vandea ëá mi le sí ar harmuvanyë annalya indossënya. Endanysse, meladanya, meluvanyeal ambar-metta pella. Herunya; melmenya.”

The effort of speaking left her weak, and her breathing was shallow now. It would not be long. Legolas sat beside her, holding her hand, the tears wet upon his cheeks as he watched her slowly slip away from him.

Just as she took her last breaths, she held her hand out and he could see she wanted to say something. He sat upon the bed, bringing his face close to hers and his arms about her as she whispered softly, “Non melethrin lín, Legolas,” and breathed her last.

He kissed her tenderly and whispered, “Non melethron lín, Fuineth,” even as he held her lifeless body in his arms and wept as his heart broke.


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A ship sails down the river and then out from the harbour to the sea. Two figures are aboard: one short and helmeted, his long plaited beard now tinged with grey, the other tall and blonde, of noble bearing.

One is facing West, his heart lifted at the thought that he will once more gaze upon the face of she whose image he has carried in his heart for so long; but the other faces East watching the land disappear on the horizon. His eyes are filled with tears and his heart is breaking. His mind is on a hill of green upon which rests a mound.

As he stares toward all that he has lost he softly begins to sing. He sings a song of love found then lost, a song that he first heard from her lips in Edoras so many years before. And as he sings the tears fall upon his cheeks:-


In long ago / in simpler time
They did meet / those fated loves:
A mortal and / an elf-maid fair.
A dark elf she: / a moriquend.

Tall, proud and dark / a warrior bold,
He stood amazed, / his heart did stop,
As she there / before him smiled
Shining by light / of moon and star


I will see you never more, my love,
I will see you never more.


Hand in hand / they did walk
Their laughter bright / rang through the trees
Their love was clear / to all that knew
But dark indeed / her mother’s thoughts.

O daughter mine, / O maiden fair,
I cannot bear / to see you thus.
Though your heart / in joy delights,
All too soon / your heart will break.


I will see you never more, my love,
I will see you never more.


The mortals die, / their lives too brief.
Wither they wander / is not known;
They do not return / nor cross the seas
To sit patiently / in Mandos’ Halls.

The lovers twain / would not be swayed
But joined, betrothéd, / wed became,
They shared a love, / a passion deep,
But still she watched him / age and die.


I will see you never more, my love,
I will see you never more.


A figure stands / beside a mound
Weeping, tears / upon her breast.
A ship awaits her / at the quay:
A ship to take her / to the West.

Across the sea / to Valinor
Back to the arms / of waiting kin;
But forever will / her heart turn East,
Back to that turf / o’er crowned with flowers.


I will see you never more, my love,
I will see you never more.



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meleth nin = my love

non melethron / melethrin lín = I love you

haryaccë indonya = (Quenya) you have my heart

Wedding promises (Quenya):

‘O beautiful flower of your land, the fairest daughter of the People of the Horses and the Dunedain, Fuineth daughter of Beriorgan, you have my heart. I say to you my love: our love cannot be broken for it is by Eru holy and blessed. In my heart, my beloved, I shall love you beyond the end of the world. My lady; my love.’

‘O Legolas son of Thranduil, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, Lord of Ithilien, you have my heart. A promise lives within you now and I shall treasure your gift in my heart. In my heart, my beloved, I shall love you beyond the end of the world. My lord; my love.’



THE END.

My sincere thanks to all those who have reviewed and given such positive feedback and in particular Star, Sirius, AN & Elb.
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