The Exile's Daughter

Small Comfort

"I can no longer afford to be scared and weak" I sighed. "A quiet life is not my fate."

"You are not weak", Legolas insisted, "and being scared is natural. You have lost so much. If you need time to let out a little of the worry you must feel, you may always lean on me. Are we not friends?"

I smiled a small but real smile. The winter's afternoon seemed a little warmer. "Of course we're friends. You're a kind person, Legolas."

"So tell me what's wrong", he pushed gently, "What did Elrond and Galadriel tell you?"

I clearly wasn't going to get away with keeping this to myself. Had Galadriel not said I could reveal my identity to my close friends? If Legolas did not fit that definition, no one did. However, Legolas was a Sindar – descended from elves who had never left Middle Earth for Valinor in the dark years before the formation of the moon and sun. His people had taken huge losses for the misdeeds of my house – would he even want to be so close once I told him who I truly was?

"I think you might be less inclined to show me kindness once I tell you what Elrond and Galadriel spent the morning telling me" I said quietly, still unable to meet his eyes.

"It has something to do with your father, doesn't it?" Legolas questioned.

"How much do you know?" I asked warily.

"Nothing" Legolas shook his head. "After Elrond showed such shock at hearing of your father's death, Aragorn and I guessed there would be something about him you did not know."

"You are right" I sighed. "It seemed I did not know him at all."

"Tell me", Legolas implored. "How could I judge you by who your father was? You did not ask to be born to him, whoever he may have been."

"I suppose not" I said wearily, finally looking into his eyes to gauge his reaction as I continued to speak. "My father's name was not Ionwë as he told me. He was Maglor Fëanorion."

Legolas' eyebrows contracted in shock as his blue eyes widened. "Then the elf who aided the Dúnedain so much was a son of Fëanor, and you are his last surviving grandchild."

"I am", I sighed, "and there is more besides."

I launched into an explanation of how my father had lived in Imladris for a time but been forced to leave by its people, then of the prophecy the seer had made about me and all that it entailed.

"So you had a choice", Legolas clarified after I had finished.

"I am not sure I would call it a choice. It is my duty to fight on the side of men, to repair the damage my uncles and father wrought. They did so much bad, I can only try to counter that by fighting, not for my own gain but for the good of others. I must be better than them."

"By agreeing to fight you are already better than them." Legolas assured. "They would not have done the same, I deem, unless there was something for them to gain".

I shook my head slightly "Deeds not words will prove who I am in relation to my father and those he fought with. Once I am healed, I must act on my conscience."

"You are bold to say so, but you have no idea what you are getting yourself into, my friend", Legolas muttered, worry framing his pale face. I frowned, slightly annoyed.

"You would dissuade me?"

"That is not what I meant, and you know it" Legolas countered quietly. "The fight we were caught up in a few days ago was a mere skirmish. Battle is a terrible experience for anyone. I do not wish to frighten you, but no training can quite prepare you for the screams and the gore of it. It is not always killing orcs and other dark creatures that Sauron has turned to his will. There are men on his side too. It is a grim duty, killing them when you must"