Chapter Text
Legolas suddenly wished he had time to talk to Sam before Elanor told her truth.
"Elanor," he asked quickly, "could you pour your father a tall glass of water? For he has been at work in the gardens of the town all day and may be weary."
"Oh not weary, Mister Legolas," said Samwise. "I am just hot and sweaty, to be honest."
Elanor nodded to Legolas, and he saw her swallow nervously before running from the room and to the well in the yard, for their water pitcher was empty.
Legolas sat down cross-legged in front of Sam so that their eyes were at nearly the same level.
"Sam, Elanor has something to tell you that you will find unpleasant," said Legolas. "Her confession to me is what took us so long."
"What've you done to your face?" Sam interrupted suddenly.
"Wait, my friend," he said, "that is part of the tale."
Legolas took a steadying breath before pressing on. This was harder for Elanor and Sam to live through than it was for him to tell, he reminded himself sternly, as he had when returning from the battlefield with a few less friends many times before.
"It will make you very angry and you may want to take immediate action when you hear what she says," Legolas continued, centering himself by watching the hobbit's eyebrows react with each word, "but I beg you remain calm. She will remember your reaction for perhaps years to come, and you want her memory of you in this moment to be one that she can call on for strength, and not one she blocks because she fears what you might do in her name, or for justice. You are, after all, the mayor."
Sam stared at Legolas for a moment with his mouth open, before slamming his lips shut and stuttering.
"By the stars, Legolas," Sam asked. "Has she killed someone?"
Legolas threw his head back for a moment and laughed at the absurdity, but then stopped himself, remembering the circumstances.
"Nay, Master Samwise," Legolas replied, subdued. "Elanor has not killed anyone, though perhaps I should have." He paused. "But it is not my place to tell you. Let her come and talk to you, and then once she is well, you and I will talk a bit and mayhap seek out Pippin and then Meriadoc—perhaps even Aragorn—for counsel. And so, one step at a time, we will make it right."
Sam looked doubtful but finally shrugged.
"All right. I've trusted you before and I'll trust you now, too, I guess," said Sam. "Should I have my Rosie in here?"
Legolas frowned, looking around suddenly. "Where is your Rosie?"
"Pippin's late, so we skipped elevenses, and Rosie's now laid up in bed," said Sam. "She is tired by the baby that will be here soon."
Legolas raised an eyebrow at him and his lips parted slightly in surprise.
"You had to have noticed?" Sam asked with astonishment.
"I only just arrived yesterday!" Legolas said, laughing. "And none of your letters told me you were to be a father four times over!"
Sam smiled at him and said proudly, "Well, I am."
"And a fine one you are!" Legolas exclaimed. "And I would fetch Rosie, I think, just so Miss Elanor does not have to twice tell her tale."
"All right," Sam said, and he hurried off to rouse his wife.
When Elanor came back a moment later, she looked alarmed.
"Where is Sam-dad?" she cried, a glass of water clutched in each small hand.
"He is only getting your mother," said Legolas quickly, not rising from his seat. "Is it all right if your mother is here?"
"Yes," said Elanor. "Here, Mister Legolas. I got you a glass, too, for perhaps you are tired also from carrying me up the hill."
Legolas laughed and took the glass from her. He was not at all tired, but he had come to realize that he adored the child, and would indulge her.
"Indeed! It is hot outside!" he said affectionately. "Thank you, Elanor, for you are too kind of heart."
Elanor smiled at Legolas and sat down on the floor beside him.
And when Rosie and her Sam-dad had come back in the room and asked Elanor what it was she had to tell, she asked them first a promise.
"Do you promise you will still love me," Elanor asked. "No matter what?"
"We have loved you since you were first given to us, Elanor!" Rosie exclaimed, one arm around her husband's shoulder and the other laid on her pregnant belly.
"We have loved you since you turned your eyes to your mother and me," said Samwise. "You are our beautiful and bright flower, pure as snow, blooming in summer and winter and hardy, too, as a dwarf."
Legolas smiled. Sam was yet a wordsmith.
"We will love you no matter what you do, no matter what has been done to you—no matter what," Sam continued. "We'll love you, brave Elanorellë, forever and always—you, the first thing we made together, the first thing we loved besides each other."
Sam reached up to squeeze the hand that Rosie had looped across his shoulders.
"Nothing could ever make us stop loving you," Sam finished imploringly.
There was a moment's silence, a beat, and then the ever-familiar, tremulous question of an unsure child.
"So," said Elanor slowly, "you promise?"
"Of course we promise," her mother breathed out, like a soft rush of spring air.
And when Legolas felt Elanor's hand wrap around his middle and ring finger again—her small fingernails digging into the fabric on his legs—and Elanor took a deep breath to tell her big truth in her tiny little voice, Legolas felt a tear he had not known he shed run down his jaw and chase the line of his neck.
Sam had said words most children could only wish to hear from their parents, and Legolas realized for the first time that day—for a reason unknown to himself—that he was truly crying; the tears stung the raw bruise that blossomed still upon his face.