The Sea Calls Us Home

If Legolas thought that was the end of their contact with the residents of Imladris, he was mistaken.

The pair of friends was some quarter hour on the road when they were surprised to find Eruwestiel ahead of them on the path.

She was mounted on her dappled gray mare and the elfmaid looked both regal and grave as they approached. Wearing riding clothes of pewter velvet to match her horse’s sleek coat and her silky, jet hair pulled back severely from her patrician face, she was the picture of cool, elven beauty.

It was obvious she was awaiting them, but Eruwestiel did not smile in greeting.

The elf prince sighed lightly beside Gimli who glanced up at his friend, but Legolas made no other comment. Together they continued towards her.

“Good morning to you, my lords,” she greeted them soberly when they at last met her on the road.

“And to you, my lady,” replied Legolas civilly.

Gimli merely answered, “My lady…” and nodded curtly.

“I felt that we left things unfinished last night, Your Highness,” Eruwestiel stated without further preamble. As Legolas seemed to be indifferent to her game-playing, she had decided to dispense with it entirely.

“I think Legolas was completely done with…” the dwarf began.

“Gimli,” Legolas said sharply then added with a less intense note, “why don’t you ride ahead on the path? I’ll catch up with you in a few moments.”

Gimli gave his friend an appraising look, but Legolas merely answered with a twitch of an elegant eyebrow.

Unconvinced, but trusting the elf knew his own mind, the Lord of Aglarond grunted in a surly manner then urged his sturdy pony forward past the elfmaiden.

“Namárië, arwenamin,” he stressed in perfectly accented elvish. “Don’t keep him long. I have a feeling his father is waiting for him at home.”

She made him no answer, but watched as he leisurely made his way down the path.

Patiently, Legolas waited for Eruwestiel to return to the situation at hand.

When she did, he could see that her serene demeanor was merely a façade and that she was quite nervous. Yet, he remained unmoved.

Wetting her lips anxiously, she said in a rush, “Will you sit with me a moment?”

He considered refusing, but finally he nodded once and swiftly dismounted. Ever the gracious elflord, Legolas held Eruwestiel’s stirrup and lent her a hand as she also alit from her mount.

There was a fallen log close by and the elfmaiden made her way unerringly towards it. Her reluctant companion followed somewhat slowly, uncertain what the elleth might do or say.

In a swirl of burnished skirts Eruwestiel claimed a seat on the deadened wood and motioned for him to join her. “Will you sit?” she invited.

“Say your peace, arwenamin,” was his only answer.

Her brows creased unhappily and she held out an insistent hand to him, “Please? I promise to behave…”

Legolas did not exactly trust her to “behave,” yet he ventured closer and squatted before her to meet her gaze evenly. “Better?” he asked.

It would have to do, and she knew it. Taking a deep breath, she finally plunged forward, “I admit that I do owe some sort of apology for last night. I was forward, Your Highness. It’s not like me, but I was desperate. I’m sorry if I offended you, but I’m not sorry I tried to keep you in Imladris. You could still come back…”

“I cannot come back to Imladris, Eruwestiel,” Legolas replied evenly. “I must…”

“Yes, yes… take the ship… I know…” she finished impatiently.

“Look forward, not behind,” he completed his own thought. “I have made my plans… plans that were set in motion long before I set out for Rivendell, just as you have made the decision to stay.”

“What if mine was the wrong decision?” the elleth asked uneasily.

“The decision has been made – right or wrong -- you must abide by it, arwenamin.”

Desperately she took hold of his tunic and pulled him close to bury her head on his chest, “But I am so bored by them all, Legolas! There is no one who holds a candle to you. Am I to live out my days alone?”

Relenting, he patted her on the shoulder and allowed her to relax against him a moment. “You make too much of me, Eruwestiel,” he murmured. “In fact, you barely know me. There are plenty of worthier elflords from which to choose residing within your arm’s reach, I promise you.”

“But I know all of them. What is there to learn in the intervening years? Look at Celeborn and Galadriel…”

He sighed heavily. That the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood were in no hurry to reunite after so many years apart was just as distressing to him. “We do not know what motivates their separation, Eruwestiel. It is not our place to second guess their relationship.”

“I suppose…” she whispered, moving her hand across his broad suede-clad chest without thinking. Vaguely she heard and felt something like paper crinkle under her palm and she was suddenly seized by jealous anger. “What is this?” she ripped out a folded packet of vellum from beneath his tunic. “You’ve been lying to me! There is someone in the Undying Lands waiting for you!”

Coldly he responded, “I beg your pardon, but I have not lied to you. Give me back what is mine, arwenamin.”

On the verge of tearing the letter into pieces, Eruwestiel saw the address on the front said, “Uncle Frodo Baggins,” in a pretty, childish script.

“Oh!” Immediately, she handed it back to Legolas. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know…” she stammered.

Accepting the letter, the Prince of Mirkwood stood. “I’m afraid I have no more time for you now, Lady Eruwestiel. I must be on my way. I wish you good fortune. Namárië…”

“Wait!” she scrambled to her feet. “It was a mistake. I am sorry, Legolas! Please don’t leave angry…”

He stopped in his tracks and told her frankly, “I am not angry. I am disappointed. Disappointed that the daughter of such a fine elflord, an elleth who has had every advantage, has squandered the possibility of love with any number of good elves with haughtiness and indifference. Perhaps you have found no interesting elflord at home because you have not offered the same of yourself. Cultivate goodness, grace and compassion, Eruwestiel, and I promise you that you will have better luck.” Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry in front of him. He softened a little as he added, “I know these are hard words. I am not perfect either. For my part, I forgive your jealousy and misunderstanding if you will forgive my frankness.”

Eruwestiel could not trust herself to speak. Instead, she slowly made her way back to her mare and made haste to mount before the elf prince could help her. Without another look back at Legolas, she spurred her horse back down the path towards Rivendell.

With sad regret to have hurt her feelings, Legolas leapt into his own saddle and started in the opposite direction to catch up with Gimli. After a few long moments in preoccupied contemplation, he realized the letter was still in his hand.

Perusing the girlish handwriting the elf prince had to smile at the promise he made a certain young hobbit lass so many years before to deliver the effusive missive to her “Uncle” Frodo when he reached the Undying Lands, no matter how long it took for him to get there.

Elanor Gamgee asked her elven friend every time she met up with him over the years if he still had the letter, which of course Legolas did. She had refused offers of updating the funny, little note as she grew up, insisting even when she was an old matron of Westmarch that the feelings she wrote then still held true. Legolas was looking forward to be able to deliver Elli’s tribute to her hero-uncle at last.

Still, first he had to bid farewell to his father…

-end of Chapter Five-