~When Legolas and Lasriel come home and find their parents there, things get heated.~

~♕~

"Sometimes the right path
is not the easiest one."

– Pocahontas

~♕~

37. A Reunion

Seeing the familiar colony in the distance gave Lasriel an unexpected warmth in her heart. Her beautiful white house with its tower gleamed in the evening sun. Home. It felt like home now.

She couldn't wait to take off her travel stained clothes and hop into a hot bath – and share it with Legolas, of course. Perhaps he could touch her again like he did the other day. The thought ignited another kind of warmth.

Suddenly she stopped in surprise as she caught sight of two unexpected visitors. Why were their parents there? And what were they doing?

The main street had been dug up and transformed into a dark, earthen scar, and Thranduil was dragging a rake along it, smoothening the soil. Her mother was busy digging outside the house.

As Lasriel and Legolas shocked watched them, an elderly dwarf emptied a wheelbarrow full of river stones beside the ruined street.

Thranduil looked up at the loud noise, then he noticed the newcomers. "Mae govannen, Legolas," he greeted, a happy smile forming on his lips. "I did not expect you back so soon. And my, is this my old butler? You look well, Galion; the sea air must suit you."

Legolas stared at him without a word, frowning.

"We are making this place a bit nicer," said Nimrodel, straightening her back and brushing dirt off her dress. "I am digging a flower bed, and Thranduil and Glóin are going to pave the street. It is so good to see you again, my dears! How have you been?"

Lasriel didn't know what to reply. Who told her mother she could make a flower bed? Who permitted Thranduil to dig up the street?

"Nimrodel, I just met your husband," said Nellas calmly. "He has not changed much. He is still a liar."

Thranduil urgently hushed her. "Do not use her real name." Then he must have realized what she had said, for his face turned white. "You met who?"

Nimrodel had become pale as well. She swayed like she might fall. When she gripped the wall to steady herself she left a black handprint on the white surface.

"We should go inside," said Lasriel. Her mouth was so dry she could hardly get the words out. "Not you and Galion," she told Nellas. This conversation was between Legolas, herself and their parents.

Inside were more changes. A crystal vase of flowers sat on the table – which was new, professionally made, with real chairs and covered in a white, embroidered tablecloth. Three sets of silver cutlery and wine goblets were arranged around fine china plates.

The windows had been equipped with velvet curtains and there was a matching carpet on the floor, thick and expensive looking, and in the next room Lasriel saw her homemade shelves were replaced with tall, elegant bookcases stuffed with more books than before. Many were her own, those she had not been able to bring when she moved from Greenwood, others were brand new. She was itching to examine them, but that must wait until later.

"Your new table and bookcases arrived from Osgiliath while you were away," said Thranduil. He sounded calm and normal, already regaining his composure after the shocking news. Legolas had said he was an expert at hiding his emotions and he proved that now. "I took the liberty of paying, and ordering a few odds and ends to go with them."

Legolas frowned even deeper at that. Lasriel understood him; Thranduil sounded like they were poor and he was their wealthy benefactor. They didn't need his alms!

Doing something like that without asking first was condescending and rude.

"Liberty, indeed," she snapped, face heating with anger. "Have you learned nothing after all your secrecy and the consequences it had? Your son hates when you do things behind his back!"

He looked baffled at her uncharacteristic outburst, his feigned calmness temporarily gone. "But–"

"Stop quarreling," Nimrodel begged in a shaky voice, sinking down on one of the new chairs. "Tell me – was Nellas telling the truth? Did you meet... him?"

"You can say his name," said Lasriel, still angry. "Legolas knows everything about Amroth and Mithrellas and Thranduil's lies."

Thranduil looked down. "I never meant to..." He didn't finish the sentence.

Legolas was still silent. Cold, stiff.

"Where?" Nimrodel asked. "Where did you meet him?"

In a clipped tone, Lasriel told her everything that had happened on the island.

"I cannot believe they stayed," said Thranduil. His face had become a mirror of his son's, with his dark eyebrows knitted together, and the gaze in his blue eyes was icy. "They were supposed to ask Manwë to forgive them, not linger in Middle-earth and continue their criminal liaison!"

Nimrodel was crying quietly into her hands. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt.

Lasriel suddenly wanted to hug her. To comfort her and be comforted, like when she was little. The annoyance drained off. "Naneth... I am so sorry they did that."

She didn't know what else to say, and apparently none of the others either. An uncomfortable silence ensued with only Nimrodel's occasional sobs breaking it.

Then Thranduil shifted uneasily, scratching his shoulder. Lasriel noticed his arm was bandaged and briefly wondered what had happened.

"I should have told you the truth, Legolas. It was... I made a mistake." He sounded like he had to force the words out.

"You certainly did," Legolas replied coldly, speaking for the first time. "And I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you aren't apologizing, even now." He indicated the room. "Thank you for the gifts. Maer dû; I am going to bed." His retreating steps on the stairs were a little too loud.

Lasriel hurried after him. She caught his hand, forcing him to slow down.

"Don't run away," she urged in a quiet voice. "You said you would forgive him... please try to do that. My naneth is crying and I want to comfort her."

He was still frowning. "That damn ellon is too proud. Would it hurt him to say he is sorry? I am not going to forgive him if he won't even ask for it!"

"Please." She pressed his hand.

Some of the stiffness left his shoulders and he sighed. "Alright, if you insist... I will talk to him and give him another chance to explain. But not because he deserves it."

~♕~

When the children left, Nimrodel's crying grew worse. Her husband was still in Middle-earth! Still living with– And Thranduil's son was furious. Everything was such a mess.

"Do not weep," Thranduil mumbled. He helped her stand, ignoring her soiled clothes as he put his arms around her. "It will be alright. Everything will be alright."

"Nay," she sobbed.

"It will." He hugged her harder, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"What the–?"

They guiltily turned toward the voice at the bottom of the stairs. Legolas' eyes were round in disbelief.

Thranduil immediately dropped his arms like Nimrodel had burned them. "I was just–"

"For Sauron's sake, not you two as well," Legolas yelled. "It is– I am– Valar, you are disgusting!"

"Wait!"

But Legolas had already stormed away and they heard a door slam shut upstairs.

"Damn," said Thranduil, staring after him, and then at Nimrodel. He looked aghast.

Nimrodel couldn't speak at all, she was crying too hard. If she had thought things were bad before, they had just become a million times worse.

And just like that, things escalated even further. There was a pounding on the door.

"Lasriel! Please let me in. It is I, your adar. Please! I have to talk to you."

The voice was at once so familiar, and so terrifying. It brought back memories Nimrodel had struggled to forget, memories she had pushed down and quenched whenever they tried to surface.

She couldn't hide from them now.

She heard his angry face and cruel words as they quarreled. Heard his lies and excuses whenever he went to see Mithrellas. She felt him bedding her, spearing her unwilling body again and again. Saw the disgusted look on his face – because he had been unwilling too.

There was a second voice outside. "Legolas, I am so sorry. Please let us explain!"

Nimrodel met Thranduil's eyes. His face was so white he looked like he might faint. "I cannot..." he breathed.

She looked at the door. This had been bound to happen, eventually. She had just thought there would be many centuries left... that she would have time to prepare. To brace herself for the inevitable reunion.

Amroth was her husband. They were bound together for life.

On unsteady feet she went over to the door and opened it.

Her husband flinched at the sight of her. She could see the fear in his eyes, the same she felt – and then endless guilt.

"Nim..." he gasped.

"I guess you had better come in," she said tonelessly. She had stopped crying. The situation was too horrible even for that outlet.

Mithrellas and Amroth didn't look at their spouses when they went past them. Mutely they sat at the table and Thranduil and Nimrodel sat opposite to them.

"What happened to your arm?" Mithrellas asked. She didn't appear quite as shocked as her husband, just unhappy. Her eyes were red and swollen, but dry, like she had already shed all the tears she had.

"That is not important," said Thranduil curtly. His face was stiff, suddenly shielded by a frighteningly emotionless mask. "You betrayed us again. Why did you stay? Explain that." Even his voice was devoid of feelings.

Amroth nodded quickly. "We will, that is why we came. No more lies..." He squared his shoulders. "It is time now."

"You deserve to know what we did, and why we did it," Mithrellas added. She was looking at Nimrodel, and with a pang Nimrodel recalled how much she had loved her friend. How close they had been. She missed that friend so much it burned her heart – but she was gone; her betrayal had made her into a different elleth.

"We left with the intention to stop," said Amroth. "To never be together again, to be chaste... to sail west and spend our days in repentance until you would join us. We traveled down the Anduin, and because we were afraid we might be tempted by each other, we split up. I reached Dol Amroth first and hired a ship. Then one day there was a storm and it was pulled to sea. I jumped overboard and tried to swim back, but the waves were angry and I was not a good swimmer. Just when I thought all hope was lost I felt a hand grab my wrist." He looked at Mithrellas with a small smile. "She saved my life. And there we were, wet and tired and the rain was pouring down and we just–"

"We could not hold back any longer," Mithrellas filled in. "When I thought I was losing him it struck me how much he meant to me. I could not stand seeing him suffer. I could not imagine a life without him. So we... lapsed. Again."

"Back then, Tolfalas was uninhabited, and we decided to settle there. To live a quiet, secluded life."

"That worked well the first few decades, but then..." Mithrellas broke off, turning her gaze down. "Then I became pregnant."

Nimrodel felt herself grow cold. This was so much worse than she had imagined. A child? They had actually dared conceiving a child?

"It was not planned," said Amroth.

"We realized we could not manage childbirth alone, so we invited a few select men and women to live on the island, including a midwife. Our daughter was born and everything went well." Mithrellas smiled weakly. "Gilhiril is long gone now. She did what we dared not, and sailed west after the death of her husband."

"She fell in love with one of the men on the island," Amroth explained. "Imrazôr, of Númenorian decent."

"You let your illegitimate daughter marry a human?" Thranduil's face was stiff and unrelenting.

"After what we did... how could we hinder her? To tell her she could not marry for love, when we–" He shook his head. "She was very happy. She had children – and later grandchildren... all passed away now, of course; they were born mortal. Her son Galador became the first Prince of Dol Amroth."

"We had to break contact with them after a few generations," said Mithrellas sadly. "To keep our secret safe..."

"I changed my alias many times and detached myself from the people of the island," Amroth said. "It would have been too conspicuous with elves living there. We had to pretend I was a withdrawn human lord. It... It has been lonely." His eyes became misty. "Thranduil, mellon nín... I have missed you. I was a fool to throw our friendship away over– But I was... weak. Always so weak. I do not expect you ever to forgive me, I know that it is too much to ask, but I wanted to explain... To my daughter, to your son, and I am glad you were here also, so I was able to explain to you as well."

"Nim, I used our friendship in an inexcusable way." Tears streamed down Mithrellas cheeks; apparently she still had some left after all. "I let you cover for me so I could betray you. Go behind your back. You were punished because of me and I will never forgive myself for that. I am so sorry. I have regretted it ever since."

Thranduil's cold features didn't waver. "Aye, Nimrodel was punished, unfairly forced into exile. You should have gotten that punishment. You should have gone to Aman and accepted the consequences of your actions."

"We have been punished," said Mithrellas. "Each day has been a constant reminder that we are wrongdoers. Each time we kissed, each time we– lay together, there was a bitter aftertaste. It fouled everything, even the happiness over our daughter and her family. Every day, every year, every century – was our penance. We have paid. And the price has been..." Her voice broke. "Unbearable."

Nimrodel's eyes filled with tears. She thought about the kisses Thranduil and she had shared. How hard it had been to hold back; how each time they went a little farther... They had been half naked together many times and he had touched her body intimately. She had not actually slept with him but it was not far from it.

How could she blame Amroth and Mithrellas for sins she herself had committed?

They looked so small. Mithrellas eyes were tired and filled with fathomless sorrow. Amroth's shoulders hung and his features were deeply sad. He was not the same ellon she had quarreled so much with; that ellon had been angry and frustrated. And she had been too. Their marriage had been a farce.

She had been much happier in the centuries since he left than the decades they were together. And the most happy year had been this one, the year when she had gotten to know Thranduil.

Amroth had paid a high cost. She could see it in his face, twisted with guilt and self-loathing.

"I forgive you," she said, realizing she meant it with all her heart. "Both of you. I forgive you."

A/N:

I will never not allow my characters to be forgiven... to get redemption. Sorry if that bothers anyone. :)

Translations: Mae govannen = well met, maer dû = goodnight