~ Thranduil tries to forgive his old friend, and a solution to their problem is suggested. But what will the children say? Not to mention the Valar... ~

~♕~

"You can't marry a man you just met."

– Elsa, Frozen

~♕~

38. Forgiveness

Nimrodel's willingness to forgive surprised Thranduil. She had suffered so long because of her husband's and his wife's actions and they had done nothing to deserve her pardon. On the contrary.

He glanced at the pair across the table and again felt the same knot of anger, the same disappointment, the same – he had to admit – humiliation at being deceived. The same abyssal loss.

Amroth had stolen his only friend. The ellon who had been at his side from his earliest childhood and through all the torments of the First and Second Ages. They had grown up together; running through the trees and along the narrow paths of Doriath, finding secret places only they knew about where they could catch fish and shoot hares and play-wrestle in the dirt.

They had covered for each other when their stern mothers demanded to know whose fault it was there was a stain on Amroth's hose and a hole in Thranduil's tunic, and later when their equally stern fathers requested the name of the culprit who nicked half the wine for the harvest festival.

They had comforted each other when Doriath fell and they must leave their home to live as refugees, and thanks to their friendship they had kept their sanity and survived the even greater trauma of Morgoth and his dragons causing the entire continent to sink into the sea.

They had given each other courage before their wedding nights, and supported each other through the first, most stormy years of marriage. Their friendship had borne them through the ordeal when their parents died and they – still overcome with grief – must step in as rulers of their respective realms.

When their wives finally became pregnant they had celebrated together, relieved that they had managed to do their duty and ascertained the royal line would be unbroken. They had shared the worry over whether their wives would survive childbirth, and when they did and the elflings were born healthy, they had shared the happiness of parenthood.

In just one moment, Amroth ruined all of that. He had polluted their memories and stolen their friendship. Over an elleth. Over Thranduil's elleth.

How could he ever forget that? How could he ever forgive?

Mithrellas and Amroth had not yet replied to Nimrodel's generous absolution. It looked like they struggled both for words and to hold back their tears.

"I do not deserve it," Mithrellas said at last, her voice distorted.

You are absolutely right, Thranduil wanted to say.

But then he saw her miserable demeanor and softened. He was really mostly angry with Amroth, not with her. Their life together had been so cold. Thranduil had not been easy to live with, he knew that, and he had actually thought many times over the years that he was partly to blame. That his behavior drove her into the arms of another.

He had wanted more elflings, despite knowing how much she hated everything surrounding childbirth; the bedding, the pregnancy, the labor. Perhaps the bedding most of all.

He had known, yet suggested it.

Quite disgusting, really.

Since getting to know Nimrodel, he had for the first time experienced what it was like to be with a willing elleth. One who enjoyed his embraces, his kisses, his touch. One who craved more equally as much as him.

Knowing all he did now, his past actions seemed even more despicable.

"You do not have to deserve it. My forgiveness is mine to offer freely," said Nimrodel.

Thranduil was amazed by her kindness. He always admired her, but in this moment she struck him as the most generous, big-hearted elleth imaginable. She was such a genuinely good person.

"I just wish you had talked to us first," she continued. "Been open with your feelings. I actually think..." She hesitated, glancing at Thranduil. "We could perhaps have come to an understanding. Made an arrangement to..." She didn't finish the sentence and suddenly looked rather awkward.

"What do you mean?" said Amroth. His eyes were wide with surprise, as if he had understood exactly what she meant but couldn't believe he heard right.

To be honest, Thranduil also hardly believed what he heard. Was she suggesting they could have changed partners?

It would have been impossible. An outrage. If they had done that they would have all been thrown out and banished.

Nimrodel looked at her hands in her lap, wringing them. "Well, I just meant that I knew you loved each other and I did not mind that you were together. Not intimately, obviously, but... Well, so if you had just told Thranduil and me openly, then he and I could also... Gosh, this is so hard to explain."

"Are you saying Thranduil and you have feelings for each other?" asked Mithrellas sharply.

Nimrodel looked at Thranduil, blushing faintly. "Well..."

To his annoyance, he felt warm blood flood his own face too. How extraordinarily embarrassing! Nimrodel should have kept her mouth shut.

"We have," he admitted. "But we haven't done anything... illegal." He didn't add "...unlike you" though he could.

"For how long?"

"About half a year."

"Oh, not longer... How unfortunate you didn't realize it already back then." Mithrellas met Thranduil's eyes for the first time.

There was sadness in her gaze. And bad memories. She must be thinking of all the times he took from her what she didn't want to give.

He couldn't look at her. The old guilt he had tried so hard to suppress was surfacing. "I am sorry, Mithrellas," he murmured. For once, he didn't struggle to apologize.

"For what?" Her surprise sounded genuine.

He peered at her. Did she really not understand? Must he humiliate himself even further by going into details?

Oh well. It was only right, he supposed. He had brought it on himself.

"For taking you to my bed though I knew you were unwilling." It took all his willpower not to let his gaze waver.

She wrinkled her forehead. "Is that what you thought? That you forced yourself upon me?"

He clenched his jaw to keep it steady. "Not physically, obviously, but..."

She shook her head, eyes becoming wistful. "Nay, Thranduil. I knew I must bring forth an heir, and did what I had to. You were always respectful. When I said no, you didn't come. When I did not want more elflings you respected that too."

The corners of his eyes were stinging. He didn't believe her. And even if she told the truth, she still didn't know what he had been thinking. That he had allowed himself to take pleasure in an act that was uncomfortable for her.

"I am the only one who is to blame in our relationship," she said earnestly. "I went behind your back. You didn't deserve that. Our son didn't deserve that. It was my fault."

Thranduil blinked away a treacherous tear. "It wasn't only your fault."

"Nay, it wasn't," said Nimrodel bitterly. "It was our naneths' and adars' fault for matching us so unwisely. For never asking us what we wanted, or what we needed in a spouse! How much easier everything would have been if they had. We would have been happy, both now and then."

It became very silent around the table. Everyone pondered over her words.

As much as Thranduil wanted to say that no, Oropher and his mother had known what they did, he simply couldn't. The match was terrible. Mithrellas and he were different like night and day.

"What if..." Amroth began, then stopped. He picked at a loose thread in the tablecloth. "I mean, since Mithrellas and I already... Then..."

Silence fell again.

"If so, what would we tell Manwë when we arrive in the Undying Lands?" asked Nimrodel. She looked like she actually considered the idea Amroth implied, which made Thranduil both surprised and flattered. She had never struck him as the rebel type. Was she really willing to risk the wrath of the Valar – over him?

"We planned to... never go. Linger here," said Mithrellas in a small voice.

"You would become ghosts," Thranduil exclaimed, abhorred at the mere suggestion. Only the most evil creatures refused to leave Middle-earth. Sauron's spirit was believed to have stayed, and his predecessor Morgoth's as well. Their sins were so great they didn't dare face judgment.

"You must not do that, Mithrellas," said Nimrodel sternly, taking her former friend's hand and squeezing it. "The Valar are not cruel. They have forgiven many worse sins than yours!" She suddenly rose from the table and began to circle the room, her hands opening and closing as she spoke. "Which elf never made a mistake? Hurt someone, stole something, talked ill of people behind their back... Who of our kind is flawless? Nobody is. Nobody is. The Creator knows there was a discord in the music that created us. Flaws and faults are woven into the very fabric that makes up the world! Why should this single breach of the rules be considered so much worse than all others? Why do people speak openly of violence and murder and theft, but nobody admits an elf can be unfaithful?"

All three stared at her mutely.

"And in this case, when we were so unhappy together... would the Valar truly find it a bad thing if we corrected a mistake made by our parents and sought our own happiness?"

Thranduil was speechless. The way she put it... He had never thought of it that way before. Could she be right? He had hurt many elves in his long life, some by mistake, others on purpose. People did bad things, it was part of being alive. But this... Who would be hurt by this solution?

As soon as he thought the question, he had the answer. "What would our children think? They would never accept it."

He thought of Legolas' disgusted face earlier. Perhaps it didn't matter; it was already too late.

"Maybe if you were discreet about it, then–" Mithrellas began, but Amroth cut her off.

"Nay, meleth nín. No more lies."

Nimrodel gave Thranduil a glance. "I think it is already too late for pretense anyway..."

She put words on his thoughts.

"So, you suggest we should just go and tell them we intend to risk the Valar's punishment – and the reproach of every elf we will ever meet, ever – because we think we were wrongly matched in marriage?" Thranduil was frustrated, because he knew the answer. He couldn't. He couldn't do that to his son.

"I think you should try to explain," said Amroth slowly. "Be open and honest. That is what Mithrellas and I meant to do; why we followed them here."

Nimrodel nodded. "I agree." Then she suddenly smiled. "That is a first, Amroth! I don't think we ever agreed about anything."

His lips curved briefly but then his dejected look returned. "In your case, I think they will understand. If you two get together it will be with our knowledge and blessing; you will not betray anyone." He sighed. "As for Mithrellas and I... I do not have my hopes up. We have ruined their childhood, and those wounds cannot be healed. But if I could dream, then it is that maybe... That just maybe time will soothe their heated feelings. That their anger will fade a degree or two. And that we could... be allowed to occupy a tiny corner of their lives... Be able to see how they do." He looked down. "Anyway, I am truly glad the four of us could talk. And if you decide to seek happiness together, then it is my heartfelt wish that you succeed. You deserve it. I suppose I shall not be around to see it happen so I give you my congratulations in advance."

Amroth's words did something to Thranduil he couldn't quite explain. Perhaps it was a combination of the hopelessness in his voice and the guilty expression he had worn throughout their conversation, but whatever it was, it made Thrandul's heart ache.

Amroth had always been his friend. Yes, he had betrayed that friendship, but if Thranduil threw him out of his life now, never to see him again – then how was he any better?

Nimrodel's words about forgiveness came back: You do not have to deserve it. He wanted to be generous like her.

And actually, he wanted to forgive Amroth for selfish reasons, too. If he turned him away, then he would not only punish Amroth, but himself. Thranduil would continue being lonely for no other reason than upholding his stupid pride.

He wanted his friend back.

"Why would you not be around to see it happen?" he asked. "If I remarry, you must come. You know I make the best parties." He was trying to sound lighthearted but probably failed grievously. His disloyal eyes were beginning to produce moisture again too.

Amroth swallowed. He appeared very occupied with the pattern of the tablecloth, following the colorful embroidery with his fingertip. "Thank you," he mumbled. "It is kind of you, but you don't have to invite me."

Don't cry, Thranduil mentally ordered himself. Don't cry don't cry.

"I know. But I want to." He leaned across the table to give Amroth shoulder a rough pat. "I miss you, old fellow."

Amroth awkwardly patted him back, at a loss for words.

"Well." Thranduil discreetly wiped his eyes. "Time to address the oliphaunt in the room. Who volunteers to tell the children the good news?"

A/N:

They will be thrilled, don't you think? *s*