Title & Chapter Number: Wish Upon The Stars (Part 2 of the 'Pilgrim' story arc) 13/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: The Woodland Chronicles
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Middle-earth and all its inhabitants are Tolkien's, not mine. I don't mean to steal them; I'm just borrowing them for my enjoyment.
Warnings: Lots of character development, not much sex. Sap and angst. Twincest
Betas: Jilly. Still the best.
Cast: Haldir, Legolas, Rúmil, Orophin, Celeborn, Galadriel, the entire Lothlórien bunch. Elladan/Thranduil/Elrohir are the only ones getting it on for now, though. There might be new pairings as the story develops.
Timeline: Third Age, approx. 440 years prior to the Fellowship.
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: Legolas arrives in Lórien to begin his training as a warrior under Haldir's supervision. In the process, he discovers things about himself he'd never dreamed of. Haldir, in the meantime, finds that even one immortal is never too old to learn.
Notes:
Chapter 13 - Conflict
Lórien
Legolas slipped into the patrol routine as into a pair of new boots; a perfect fit, but the first walks are never painfree. Legolas had to learn a few things about the patrol and the patrol had to learn a few things about Legolas. But while new shoes usually mold itself to fit the wearer’s feet, Legolas had to adjust to the patrol, not vice versa.
The young prince had no difficulty following orders or doing things like collecting firewood, preparing dinner and cleaning up afterwards. Quite the contrary, he did those things with so much enthusiasm that the other Elves good-heartedly made fun of him. They sensed there was a lot more to Legolas than that quiet, timid exterior and they all made efforts to involve him as much as possible, hoping that he would feel more comfortable and allow the real Legolas to show himself more. Teasing was a part of this, and when practised well, this tactic could be very effective. Once loosened up, Legolas could be surprisingly entertaining, his story-telling spirited, his responses to jests quick and well-chosen.
Legolas’s first patrol passed as the first day had done; uneventfully. The patrol they relieved had seen or found nothing but tracks that were at least two weeks old, and in the weeks that followed, Haldir’s patrol explored the southern border of the forest, marching long distances, rising early and resting late. But they, too, found nothing out of the ordinary. It was reassuring and unsettling at the same time.
At day, during the marches, there was little time for banter, except during the few breaks Haldir allowed them, and even then the faces of the warriors were serious most of the time. Legolas did not speak with Haldir often then, as they were both engaged in different activities. But at night there was time for some relaxation. Two Elves would stand on guard while the others sat gathered around a fire, enjoying a meal and some light conversation, often a song or two as well. Legolas enjoyed those moments, and as the weeks progressed, his voice was heard more often during those gatherings by the fire. The Mirkwood Prince had interesting stories to tell, and he told them well. The others appreciated that in him, and even those who had been skeptical of the young Prince in the beginning found it fascinating to see how quickly he was adjusting.
Legolas, in fact, surprised himself with that; but he attributed it for the greater part to the Elves of the patrol. They were very welcoming and, to Legolas’s relief, ignored the fact that he was a king’s son. He also stood in awe of how close the patrol was as a group, and he secretly admired Haldir for the choices he had made. As it appeared, the captain chose his warriors not only for their fighting skills, but also for their personality, which resulted in a group of individuals who would all risk their life for that of another.
Legolas was on friendly terms with all of them, but he especially became good friends with Ruigaul and Tinuril. There was also good understanding between him and Ôlnathron, and after that first night out, Legolas was often found in Celairmir’s vicinity, as well. The rest of the patrol watched their interaction with interest. Celairmir had not made his feelings publicly known, but he was very frank about his admiration for the Greenleaf, and even though Legolas apparently did not return those strong feelings, he obviously enjoyed being around Celairmir, and their conversations were long and lively. Even though relationships within patrols were usually not encouraged, the others secretly hoped that Legolas would change his mind about Celairmir; for that development would be beneficial for all parties involved.
And they pitied Celairmir, for Legolas still gave *his* admiring glances to one Elf only... and it was not Celairmir.
And so the weeks of Legolas’s first patrol went by. The last days were spent marching back to the border post where they’d rested that first night, and where they would now be relieved by a new patrol. All were looking forward to going home again, and the atmosphere was slightly more relaxed than it had been. And yet it was one of those last evenings that witnessed an unexpected and most unpleasant event.
The day’s march was over and the patrol was resting under the trees, gathered round a fire as usual. The conversation was about the return to Caras Galadhon, and how they would spend their two weeks free from duty. Ôlnathron was making plans for the time he would spend with his wife and children, and Ercirion was doing the same, while Tavor made it no secret that he was looking forward to being reunited with his lover. The relationship was still young, however, and Tavor was suffering from the uncertainties that come with a new courtship; he feared that after a separation of weeks, he would find his love grown disinterested, and this caused him much concern. The others made an effort to comfort him and give him some reassurance, telling him that whoever lost interest in a good-looking and kind warrior like Tavor, was a fool and not worthy of his attention.
Legolas listened silently as he sat whetting the blade of one of his knives with a stone. He hadn’t used the knife much over the past weeks and only for innocent matters like cutting rope, but he liked to let his hands work while listening. What was *he* looking forward the most? Probably the opportunity to spend private time with Haldir again – he had missed that. And he would be meeting with Celairmir, Tinuril and Ruigaul as well; that had already been arranged and it was a pleasant prospect.
Legolas’s eyes searched for Haldir across the fire. The Marchwarden sat listening in silence, as well, and he did not seem to notice Legolas’s gaze. It was strange, Legolas mused; he had been in Haldir’s vicinity every moment of the day, several weeks in a row, and yet the distance between them had in some ways been greater than it had been in Caras Galadhon. He had missed their conversations, and he wondered if Haldir had, as well.
Ruigaul was the one who was the least excited about returning home. He was the youngest child of his parents, and all his older siblings had left the parental nest. As was to be expected, Ruigaul’s father and mother had some difficulty letting go of their youngest, and Ruigaul was of the opinion that they were treating him like an immature elfling. Of course, it did not occur to him that he sometimes still *did* act like an elfling; in his manner of speech for example, which he showed clearly this evening.
Enflamed by the satisfaction of a good evening meal, a swallow of wine and his own youthful conviction of himself, Ruigaul joked about his over-protective parents, imitating – and exaggerating – the intonation they used when addressing him. The others listened with mild amusement. Who hadn’t been in that situation in his younger years? It was very recognizable.
“Honestly,” Ruigail said lightly, “sometimes I wish the Orcs would abduct them both in their sleep and take them far away from here. It would be beneficial for the peace in our house!” And he laughed softly. It was a joke after all, Ruigaul loved his parents as all Elves did.
Older, wiser Elves heard this idiotic joke with little more than a drawn-up eyebrow or a frown. But there was a flash of sudden movement next to Celairmir, and all turned their faces to the Elf who’d leapt to his feet, and a sudden silence fell over the group.
Where only seconds earlier, the youngest and newest addition to the patrol had been sitting, stood now an Elf none of the warriors had ever seen before. It was still the Prince of Mirkwood, but no longer the gentle Legolas they’d come to know over the weeks. He stood facing a very startled Ruigaul, towering over him; he still had the whetting stone in his right hand and the knife in his left, and he trembled with barely restrained rage. Fire shot from his eyes. He was terrifying to behold.
Another flash of grey as Haldir got to his feet. “Legolas,” he said. There was an edge of warning to his intonation.
Legolas did not seem to notice him. His gaze upon Ruigaul never wavered. “What – did you say?” he ground out, and his voice was lower than usual, almost unrecognizable.
“Legolas, calm yourself,” Haldir said calmly, but firmly.
The watching Elves collectively held their breaths. Of course, they all knew of Legolas’s past, the brutal murder of his mother... but it was so easy to forget, when Legolas was such a cheerful young Elf. Ruigaul’s expression changed; realization came to sit beside fright, immediately followed by shock, shock over his own rudeness and stupidity.
“Legolas,” he stammered, “I’m sorry... I forgot...”
Legolas’s jaw hardened, his breathing was harsh and quick. His fist around the hilt of his knife clenched until his knuckles turned white.
“Legolas!” Haldir barked, and this finally caused Legolas to look up from Ruigaul and meet Haldir’s eyes. “Empty your hands this instant, or this patrol will be your last! We do *not* point our weapons at each other, ever! Is that clear?”
A moment passed in silence. Then, the stone slid from Legolas’s hand, followed by the knife, and they fell onto the grass with a dull thud. An audible sigh of relief passed through the group, but Legolas turned on his heel and fled, disappearing into the forest.
All sat in silent shock, glancing at each other uneasily. Ruigaul looked downright miserable.
Dúlinn broke the silence. “You fool!” he said to Ruigaul. “That remark would have been stupid and inappropriate even without Legolas here – but he heard your every word, and I earnestly believe that stating your brain has the size of a maize-grain would be flattery.” Ruigaul shrank.
“Leave him be. He’s had enough punishment,” Haldir said, and he made to follow Legolas.
“I will come with you,” Ruigaul said, and he started to rise.
“No,” Haldir said. “You stay here, unless you would like to feel his hands around your throat.”
Ruigaul sat down again with an unhappy expression.
“He’ll come round,” Haldir promised the young Elf, and his voice was softer. Then he was gone between the trees, in search of his pupil.
In his sorrow and his haste to get away, Legolas had not hidden his tracks very well. Haldir had little difficulty finding him. The young Elf had run, hundred, two hundred meters, lightly leaping over logs and small streams, dodging branches and twigs before slowing his steps and eventually coming to a halt.
He stood still for a long while, trying to regain control over himself. Trying to find himself again. What he had done back there... was not like him at all. He should not have reacted so strongly. Especially since it had been a remark born from ignorance; but ignorant or no, it had enraged him and temporarily muted his reason. Now, the last traces of anger faded gradually, only to be replaced by burning embarrassment. The sadness, however, remained. Legolas wanted to cry, let the grief stream from his body; yet his eyes remained dry.
The forest smelled so good. He inhaled deeply. Good; it cleared his head somewhat. All around him and above him, the wood creaked softly in the wind. The peace of the place was nice; better than returning to camp and having to see all those shocked faces. And he couldn’t even blame them for being shocked, as he was appalled by his behaviour himself.
He heard someone coming, and turned to identify the arrival.
It was Haldir. The only one he could bear seeing right now – and yet he did not want to be seen by him, not like this.
“Leave me be, Haldir,” he said. “Please, go back to the others.”
“And leave you here unarmed and alone with your grief? I think not,” Haldir responded, but he said it kindly. He understood Legolas’s reaction, but he could not approve of it. He could not permit his warriors to quarrel among themselves, he could not afford to let that happen. He needed absolute unanimousness and nothing less. Now that the sky was somewhat cleared, after some necessary, harsh words on Haldir’s part, it was time to tend to Legolas and ease his distress; for Haldir did not need more than one glance to see that Legolas was at a loss. A prey for all kinds of emotions, none of them even remotely pleasant.
Haldir had expected something like this to happen one day. He had been right, and gods, how he hated it.
“How can he say that?” Legolas said, anger momentarily flaring again. “How can he say such a thing?” It was still far beyond his comprehension.
“Ruigaul is young and therefore foolish sometimes,” Haldir said. “He meant no insult.”
“I am much younger than he,” Legolas retorted, “and I would never say such a thing.”
“No,” Haldir said, “but not everyone is as thoughtful by nature as you are. Ruigaul hasn’t experienced loss yet in his life; don’t hold that against him.”
“There is no need to give me a sermon,” Legolas said tonelessly. “I am not proud of what I did, not proud at all.”
“I know that,” Haldir said. “And I am not giving a sermon, I am merely trying to re-establish the peace in my patrol. I am sorry I shouted at you; but I had to, I cannot have my men threatening each other.”
“You don’t have to apologize, I needed the awakening,” Legolas said, still with that toneless voice. “I wasn’t even aware of the knife, I had no idea what a sight I made. I didn’t know I could be like that...” His words ended in a whisper. “I guess I can’t be part of the patrol anymore... They’ll all hate me after this.”
“They won’t hate you,” Haldir said, “not even for a second. We were all appalled by Ruigaul’s words, Legolas; and we know this was not the real you. I will not let you leave the patrol, but you must promise me not to do this a second time. You have the right to be upset, but Elves who cannot solve a problem in a peaceable manner, do not belong in the patrol.”
“I promise,” Legolas said quietly. “I am sorry, Haldir, and very ashamed.” The young Elf gazed ahead, his eyes dim.
“Do you want to talk?” Haldir asked softly as he crossed the distance between them. Perhaps this was the moment for Legolas to break his silence on the subject. Haldir dared to hope. The sooner it happened now, the better...
But Legolas shrugged. “What is there to say?”
Haldir hesitated. “Listen, Legolas... You don’t have to be alone in this. Many of us lost a loved one over the years, we understand what it’s like. If you want to talk someday, you can come to me, or one of the others. Will you consider it?”
Legolas’s reply was a silent nod. Awkwardly they stood side by side, and for a moment, Haldir considered putting an arm around Legolas’s shoulder. But after a moment of hesitation, he decided against it, not sure whether Legolas would welcome it. Legolas could be such a mystery, and tonight he was unreadable. A rage-filled warrior only moments before, and now very much his usual self again... but sadder. Vulnerable and young. Gods, he looked so young, Legolas, now more than ever.
“I have missed you,” Legolas said suddenly.
“Missed me?” Haldir smiled, surprised. “But we have been travelling together for weeks. I was in your vicinity almost every moment of the day.”
“As my captain, yes,” Legolas said. “But I have missed my friend.”
Haldir stared into Legolas’s sincere blue eyes, momentarily at a loss for words. What was it about this young Elf, that he could touch Haldir so deeply with the simplest words? It was incomprehensible, and a bit frightening, too.
“Your friend is always here,” Haldir said eventually. “As captain he just has many tasks and responsibilities...”
“I understand that,” Legolas hurried to say. “And it’s all right... But when we’re back in Caras Galadhon, will things be as they used to be again, Haldir? Please tell me they will... I have missed it.”
“Of course, Legolas, of course they will,” Haldir promised him. And after a brief silence, he added, “I have missed it, as well.”
This brought the first smile to Legolas’s face, a smile so bright that the shadow of the evening’s event seemed to flee before it. Haldir sighed inwardly. How could he possibly continue being concerned if Legolas looked at him like that?
“Come back to the others,” he said then. “You nearly scared the life out of them with your outburst.”
Legolas’s cheeks burned with shame. “Yes,” he nodded, “it’s best to get it over with.”
Haldir was pensive as they walked back together. Had he neglected Legolas over the past weeks? Being the leader of the patrol left little time for banter, but it was true that he had let go of Legolas... perhaps a bit too much. But it delighted him that Legolas was making new friends in the group, and he had thought it a good thing to give Legolas time and space to do this. He had never meant to give the impression he didn’t want to make time for him.
Upon returning to camp, Legolas glanced at the others’ faces nervously, but he saw only relief on them, no contempt or accusation. Leaving Haldir’s side, he approached the circle of Elves and walked straight to Ruigaul, who regarded him anxiously.
“I am sorry,” he said when he stood in front of the other Elf. “I should never have reacted the way I did, it was very wrong of me. Can you forgive me?”
Ruigaul leapt to his feet. “I was wrong first,” he said urgently. “I should not have *acted*, the way I did. I should have remembered... ‘Tis me, who must ask for forgiveness. I am so sorry, Legolas.”
Legolas embraced him warmly. “You are forgiven,” he said. “I know you didn’t mean what you said. I was miles over the line with my reaction.”
“I’m a fool!” Ruigaul exclaimed as he returned the embrace. “I could kick myself, but I waited for you to return, for I think it would be far more effective if you did it, instead.”
Legolas chuckled. “Tempting,” he said. “But I will not do anything of the like. Let’s just forget this, please, Ruigaul?”
“Sounds even better,” Ruigaul sighed.
The other Elves of the patrol sank back into relaxation as well, relieved that Haldir apparently had found the right words to calm the Elf, and that the son of Thranduil had a great heart, capable of forgiving. Haldir witnessed his warriors’ embrace with a content smile, and watched as they broke apart and slumped down in their previous sitting position as if nothing had happened.
Celairmir’s eyes rested on Legolas’s face in concern and Legolas returned his gaze, smiling at him tiredly. When Celairmir lifted an arm and wrapped it affectionately around the prince’s shoulder, Legolas was not startled. He leaned in to it, resting his head on Celairmir’s shoulder; welcomed the offered care, the warm protection; allowed his eyes to slowly fall shut as the conversation continued around him. It was rest and peace he craved for right now, comfort... Nice, to have an arm around him. It had been a long time since he last felt that.
Haldir watched the two in wonder. It was good to see Legolas being taken care of, but it surprised him that Celairmir, who had only known Legolas for a couple of weeks now, seemed to know so well what to do to make the young Elf feel at ease, in some ways better than Haldir did. Or at least he had the courage to translate his thoughts into actions, a courage that Haldir lacked. And he envied Celairmir for it.
Haldir sat down on his spot between Rúmil and Dúlinn, watching Legolas closely. He knew the youth had a long way to go yet, a difficult one, and he wished it wouldn’t be so. The thought of it made his heart ache; for how could it be fair, that an Elf as young and gentle as Legolas was destined for a life path so full of bumps and potholes? And still, Haldir mused, perhaps there *was* a reason behind it. Perhaps the Valar had reserved this road for Legolas to walk, exactly because he *could* take it. He possessed a great inner strength that young Elf... and a lust for life and laughter that Haldir found intoxicating; even infectious.
There was a lively discussion going on in the group, but Haldir heard nothing of it. His eyes were on the newest addition to his patrol as he dozed against Celairmir’s shoulder; a young Crown Prince from the Mirkwood realm who was a living contradiction. Whose eyes had seen his mother slaughtered by brutal orc weapons, but wouldn’t recognize a rabbit when it was right in front of them; who was hard on his way to become a skilled and strong warrior, but who could crawl on your lap if you let him, and ask for the comfort of two embracing arms. Sorrowful, and yet so eager to live life, experience all its joys.
Hope. That was what Haldir always felt when laying his eyes upon Legolas of Mirkwood.
And hope... hope was something Haldir had had to live without for a very long time.
~*~*~*~
After arriving at the southern border post, Haldir’s patrol had one night and one full day before the relieving patrol would arrive, and they made good use of that time. Although there was always a watch on the surround, the Elves gave in to some much-desired relaxation, beginning the day with hand-to-hand practices and taking a refreshing dive in a nearby pool afterwards.
Legolas was paired with Tinuril, and to his own, but most of all, to Tinuril’s surprise, he beat his older friend quite easily.
“Don’t tell me,” Tinuril groaned as he lay under Legolas’s weight, “the captain taught you.”
“He did, indeed!” Legolas exclaimed joyfully.
“I should have known. You use the same sly tricks as he does,” Tinuril grumbled.
“You are a bad loser, Tinuril,” chuckled Haldir, who stood watching.
When later that day, the Elves of the patrol collectively made ready to strip to the flesh and take a dip in the pool, Legolas was doubtful. He was torn between his unwillingness to be naked in front of so many eyes and his desire to be and act just like the others, and he was still hesitating when he was grabbed by three naked elven warriors, who quickly and skilfully stripped him of his clothes, not listening to his protests and ignoring his struggles. But they were weak struggles, for he perceived that this was another initiation ritual, and if he wanted to be part of this group, then he would just have to swallow the pill.
It was not so bad in the end. These Elves were practically his brothers after all, and if they turned an appraising eye to his form, it was done briefly and without the heated, lustful glow Legolas had always found so uncomfortable. They assessed him, true, and they appreciated the sight; but didn’t he do the same with them? Yes, he did. Was that a sin? It didn’t feel as such. And after a first few moments of awkwardness, Legolas found that it was not a terrible thing, as he had expected. There was, in fact, a certain camaraderie about it that felt natural in this group. He would probably get used to it soon enough.
Not that he had much time to think all this over that first afternoon, for as soon as the last item of clothing was removed, he was lifted up and hurled head-first into the water. Upon bursting through the surface, he began to laugh heartily. It was a spontaneous, natural reaction of his body. The others, who had been standing waiting for his reaction, laughed as well and moved to join Legolas in the water. Soon, the air was filled with the sounds of splashing, laughing and shouting, produced by nineteen elated Elves.
Legolas caught flashes of Haldir, who, to Legolas’s delight, was just as exhilirated as the others. Apparently, the taciturn leader of the patrol was not too self-withdrawn to enjoy some silly activities when it was deserved.
That evening, it was Legolas’s turn to bring the used cooking supplies to the stream and wash them, but Ruigaul popped up next to him, wordlessly took the pile of pans and plates from his hands and walked away with it. Legolas stared after him for a few seconds, stupefied; then started to smile. Ruigaul still felt guilty about his unfortunate remark the night before, and he was punishing himself for it. Given that Ruigaul despised this task more than all the others together, it was heavy punishment indeed and Legolas appreciated the gesture, but he joined Ruigaul by the stream all the same and helped him. It was more fun and finished sooner with two.
The relieving patrol arrived that evening, and Haldir and his men would leave for Caras Galadhon the following morning. Legolas was excited about it; sleeping in his own bed again, slipping into his familiar Mirkwood clothing, spending time with his friends, with Haldir... He fell asleep with that image in his head, but what he didn’t know yet, was that some guests would arrive in the city whose presence would be a delight for whole Caras Galadhon... but for Legolas and a certain blond politician in particular.
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