The Prince's Pretend Mother

Second Entry - Almost Too Much Love

"The Valar welcome him for his service."

I nodded, my way of both agreeing with and thanking him. Legolas, I could see, did not want me to remain standing in the snow alone, but his father rightfully understood that now that my son had been put to rest alone was exactly how I wanted to be. Legolas opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again-the first time I had ever seen him retract a question, and had I been in my right mind the sight of it would have wounded me deeply, as I had ingrained in him since his infancy that he could always ask me anything. But I was not in my right mind, no longer in my right heart or soul or body, and I barely noticed. Swallowing tightly, I said, "I will see you tomorrow." I wondered where Legolas had gone without me there today.

Thranduil had been turning to go and stopped, Legolas having already reluctantly released my hand. "You needn't."

"I shall."

It was my brother Firven who came to retrieve me from my grave long after night had fallen that day. He stood silently beside me for an hour or more before speaking. The snowflakes before us billowed with our breath like shattered pearls on fluttering black velvet.

"King Thranduil visited," he said at last. "He offered to release me from my service."

I sighed, more because I could not understand why he had done this than anything else.

Firven adjusted so he half-faced me. "We lost our father to war, our mother to grief, your husband to an assault and your son to a raid. He does not want us to lose either of the other. We are all we have left of family."

I breathed again, the cold air sinking rows of teeth into my belly and lungs. "Is that what he said."

"It is what I inferred." He met my eyes now, even if I would not meet his. "Why else would he offer me a faultless resignation? Your occupation is primarily safe, he knows he can offer nothing of the sort to you."

"Primarily safe."

"Being loved by any royal is always a risk, even if only a prince. There are those that would shoot an arrow through you if it meant killing him, or use you to cause him pain."

"Legolas is only a child."

"He will not stay that way forever. Someday he will make his own changes on the world." Firven watched me a minute more, and then sighed himself, cupping his hand around my arm. "Come inside, Inladris. Let him sleep. The more rest you give him the sooner he may return."

Numbly, I followed my brother inside. Unlike my dead son I could not sleep. But my handmaid brushed out my hair, drew me a bath, then brushed it again once she had washed it. When she returned in the morning I hadn't moved from my armchair in the shadow by the bed, and I didn't immediately notice her entrance. She draped me in black and silver and drew my hair out of my face, and I left to take Legolas from his father.

Legolas was sitting at the table with Thranduil when I entered. Legolas leaned over a length of parchment with a charcoal pencil in hand as Thranduil indicated corrections on it for him. Both glanced up when I stepped inside.

"Good morning Legolas, my lord." To Legolas I said, "Are you ready for your lessons?" He had them most of the morning now, and training on a variety of subjects in the afternoon. He had his free hours as well throughout, and often spent them either reading, practicing something he felt he ought to have already mastered, or we entertained ourselves in other ways.

With a sidelong look toward his father Legolas stood, hastily folding the paper and tossing it aside. He took up instead his quills, jar of ink and pencils. "Good morning, Inladris," he greeted as he trotted over to me. "Have a good day, Father." He ducked out the door ahead of me, knowing his way around his father's keep possibly even better than those who had lived here centuries longer, and before I could hurry after him Thranduil caught me by my name.