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The Gift	By : mirasaui Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 9163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
The Gift
by Mirasaui

Part 17: The Market - Imladris
They could hear the noise before they reached the market. Vendors crying their wares, the cluck of chickens, squeal of pigs, hammering of farriers and metalworkers, all merged with the ever present voice of the crowd to create a cacophony of sound. And the smells... mingled with the delicious aroma of baking bread and roasting meat, were the exotic odour of spice and herb and the heady scent of the fragrant blossoms in the trees.
Lindir had, of course, been to the market many times before. But he saw it with new eyes when accompanied by his friend. The large field beneath the shady trees had been used as a marketplace ever since the end of the War of the Last Alliance. It was more than just a site where vendors came to sell their merchandise. It was also a gathering spot for friends both of home and afar, for there were many foreign faces in the crowd. The stalls ranged from simple wooden barriers to grand tents and canopies hung with cloths of sheer, silken material of all colour and pattern. The breeze caught the fabrics and they fluttered like the sails of a sailing ship that were lost as to which way the wind would blow. The myriad flags and banners of the craft guilds added to the bright scheme, and many of the booths had colourful ribbons attached to the supporting poles, their ends swinging freely in the gusts and containing tiny bells or bits of shell or clay that tinkled merry tunes.
Haldir o Lórien had a smile from ear to ear, for he had not much opportunity to visit the thriving market community of Imladris. Lothlórien had its market, but its displays were of local ware. Here there were items unusual and exotic, coming from all the different corners of Arda, and Haldir, despite his travels to many places, was duly impressed with the variety and selection.
"Where do you wish to look first," he asked Lindir, not wanting to sway the young Elf any more in his choice than was necessary. The minstrel looked back at him with haunted eyes.
"I have no idea, Haldir. Now that Glorfindel and I are close, I am even more at a loss of what to choose, for though I feel great love for my lord, I still know him not."
Haldir felt a sense of shame radiating from Lindir at these words, almost as if the young elf blamed him self for not being aware of how the Seneschal spent his days. He did not seem to understand that part of the wonder of new love was getting to know one's mate. His likes, dislikes, fears, joys, the minutiae of his being revealed slowly and carefully, as one peeled the outer covering of a rare fruit to find the enticing sweetness and beauty inside. Ah, poor Lindir, he thought, so much to offer and so little faith in himself and his abilities. Haldir hoped that Glorfindel could find a way to build the young elf's self esteem.
"Well, I have always found the best way to start is by looking. If you are lucky, something will jump out at you and say this is it. More often than not, you will have to use some thought, but it is much better to relax and enjoy the beautiful things around you than to have a pre-set notion in your mind and try to match it. Let us stroll through today and see what is offered."
Passing up the food booths, their first stop was at a large tent that flew the pennant of the weaver's guild. The sides of the tent were rolled up allowing the sun to show off the bolts of lovely fabric on display. There were tables stacked with handmade tunics and robes in every colour of the rainbow, some plain, and some with intricate design. Two elleths (1) with dark brown hair and measuring strings hanging from their necks were busy chatting with potential customers. The click-clack of hand-looms could be heard from behind a heavy curtain hanging in the back. A large oval mirror stood in one corner and one of the females positioned her customer in front of it and held up a beautiful light grey tunic to his chest. The velvety fabric was embroidered with green and blue dragonflies and trimmed with silver braid. Somehow the elf maiden knew just the right colours to bring out the hair and eyes of the Elf who stood in front of the glass. Lindir could tell the ellon (2) was pleased, for he turned his shoulders to and fro, and a look of smug satisfaction crossed his face. It was not long before coin changed hands, and the elf left with his purchase under his arm.
The pretty maiden stepped over to the minstrel and gave him a wide smile. "Are you looking for anything in particular today?" she asked. "A new tunic, or perhaps a new robe for when you play nights in the Hall of Fire?" Lindir was surprised that the elleth (3) knew he was a minstrel, and the look on her face showed she understood his thought. "You are well-know through-out Imladris, Lindir. Did you think I would not recognize you in daylight?" The maiden laughed and turned to Haldir. "Perhaps you are wishing to purchase some gifts to bring back to your friends? Or need a new tunic for yourself? It is not often we see the Marchwarden of Lothlórien at our humble fair. I would be proud to show you some of our best made. In fact, I have a tunic finished this morning that would bring out the golden highlights in your eyes." She moved over to the table, picked up a beige coloured tunic that was embroidered with red and gold mellryn leaves and held it up to Haldir. The Marchwarden fingered the material and sighed. "It is lovely, sweet one, but I am not buying today. Perhaps, I will change my mind tomorrow, for I daresay we will be back here again. I would try it on, but we are too pushed for time. Thank you for your time. It has been delightful to gaze upon your sweet face." Haldir gave the elleth a brilliant smile and the maiden lowered her eyes and blushed.
"Well, Marchwarden, I hope then to see you tomorrow." she said coyly.
"Come, Lindir, we have more places yet to visit." Haldir gave the maiden a wink then turned back to his friend. "You may consider trying a few tunics on yourself if we return."
Walking side by side, they drew up to the leather-workers pavilion, the sights of the tanned and prepared skins a familiar one to warriors. Belts, boots, arm bands, saddles, sheaths and other various odd pieces, all exuding that particular smell of the tack room, a musky yet satisfying odour, hung from pegs on posts or lay on the table-like shelf surrounding the structure. An older elf with sparkling green eyes was sitting at a bench in the corner hammering a tooled die to a strip of hard leather, stamping the design on its hardened tip into the browned skin. "Come to shop or just feel at home?" The warrior asked with a wry grin, as he got up to greet his guests.
"Celeng!" Lindir exclaimed, matching the warrior's grin with a wide smile of his own. "It has been long, where have you been hiding?
"I would ask the same of you, young minstrel, for you are looking well and have found a new companion, I see." Celeng replied.
"Forgive my manners Celeng, this is Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien. He is staying in Imladris for the week and is a good friend. Haldir, this is Celeng, also an old friend. I have known him since I first entered the guard for he was one of my weapon masters and taught me the use of the knives."
Haldir bowed slightly in deference to the older warrior. "It is always an honour to meet a fellow centurion. You taught Lindir well, for I have had a chance to judge his skill."
"I knew your father, young Haldir," Celeng replied. "He used to speak often of you and your brothers. He always had my respect."
"Thank you for your kind words. If it would not offend, may I ask why you are no longer a member of the guard?" Haldir raised his eyebrows in question to his elder.
"It would not offend, pen-neth, and it is no secret. I was maimed by the sharp hooves of a wild stallion and must now walk with the use of a crutch. No more a warrior's life for me, so I took up the craft of my kin. I must say, it suites me well." The old warrior laughed heartily, revealing a set of beautiful white teeth. "Perhaps, you would be needing a new pair of boots or the like, Master Haldir?"
Haldir frowned at the address. "It has been many an age since I have been called Master, gwador (4) and you are not that much older to speak of me as such."
Ah, I was just teasing Marchwarden, do not take offense." the tanner replied. "I see you have inherited your Father's quick temper as well!" At this the green eyes twinkled merrily. "Hah, young Lindir, you had better watch this one."
Haldir emitted a "humph", then picked up a pair of soft brown boots. He eyed the elder for a moment then said in a low voice. "Lindir's partner lost his leg in a skirmish a few days past. Lord Elrond fears he will fade. Do you know Tebring, mate of Tambor?"
The tanner looked sad for a moment. "Aye, I know the elf well. He came here a fortnight ago and ordered a pair of boots similar to those." Celeng pointed to the pair in Haldir's hands. "I can see he will not be returning for them any time soon." Celeng sighed. "I trained Lindir, Tambor, Tebring, Galelas, and Fyril, all in the same class. They were a close knit group, always hanging out together and creating mischief. Tebring and Tambor were the leaders, back then they were like brothers. Tebring was the heart and soul of the group, always full of laughter and fun and Tambor was the motivator. He never stopped that one. Tambor had so much energy. He could run you around in circles. He ran Tebring around and finally caught him, I hear. "Celeng laughed, but the sound was bittersweet. "I need to visit the Healing House and have a word with those two."
"He will not see you," Lindir told his former mentor. "He has closeted himself in his room and only lets Lord Elrond or Master Anaran in, and that, only to check his wounds. He is a shell of his former self. He even pushes Tambor away. He is fading, gwador."
"He will see me," Celeng replied. "I shall take Glorfindel with me. Together we may rouse him. If you remember, Lindir, I was in the same condition after my accident. Lord Glorfindel changed my frame of mind, knocked sense into my head."
"I think you shall find Tebring beyond recovery," Lindir said sorrowfully. "Tambor believes it is only a matter of weeks before he leaves for Mandos' Halls. To live the life of a guardian was always his dream and now it is shattered. He feels he has nothing left to live for."
"Young Tambor is worth living for," Celeng said heatedly. "This land is worth living for, the trees, the sky - Tebring needs to open his eyes. There is more to this world than fighting and war. I will keep my promise and visit him tonight. Have no worry, we will find a way to revive him."
"Any attempt is welcome at this point, Celeng. I know Tambor, for sure, will appreciate your effort. I would stay and tall but we are to meet Lord Glorfindel when he returns from patrol. For now, there is a certain item I am searching for and I have a deadline to find it, therefore, I must bid you good-bye." Lindir felt guilt at leaving his old friend so soon, but he truly did not want to miss the opportunity to greet his lover. He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach when he thought of the golden lord. A hand on his arm brought him back down to earth.
"Lindir, we must not tarry." said Haldir. He turned to the tanner then grasped the other's arm in a warrior's grip. "Nanarad agevedim, Celeng." (5)
"Nan lû, Haldir, Lindir," (6) the old warrior replied. "I will not forsake Tebring. Off with you, for there is much the market has to offer and this tanner needs return to his work."
Lindir also gave his old friend a warrior's grasp. "Nan lû," (7) he repeated, then turned back to the main pathway to catch up to Haldir.
He found Haldir standing in front of an extremely thin, black-haired elf, wearing a dirty white smock. The elf was seated at a wooden potter's wheel, his hands slithering wetly up the sides of a rotating, slick clay cylinder. His long legs were splayed under the table, his right foot kicking the circular bottom wheel that caused the top wheel to spin in tandem. Haldir was staring at the contraption in fascination and the potter was looking back at the Marchwarden with an intense interest.
"Do you like pottery?" Lindir asked of Haldir. When his friend did not answer, the thin potter spoke. "Cat got your tongue, silver-hair?
Haldir looked up into a pair of blue eyes that were so dark they were almost black. "I have never seen how they were made. The potters where I am from shape their ware from coils of clay, at least, that is what I have seen them do in the shops. Maybe they have one of those devices in another location."
The potter laughed. "Most likely, silver-hair, it would be located wherever they keep their kiln. I have found bringing my potter's wheel helps stimulate interest. It brings the crowd into my shop so I increase my sales. It caught your eye, did it not? Or perhaps, you are more interested in the potter?"
Haldir smirked. Cheeky elf, he thought, a bit too thin for my taste. "I think your pot is out of round," he replied in a snippy tone of voice. "Perhaps you ought to pay more attention to it. What are you crafting, by the way?"
"Whatever you wish, silver-hair," the potter replied silkily and with those words, the potter's hands began to move sensuously up and down the wet column of clay. The cylinder rose higher when he moved his fingers upward then cupping his hands the elf changed the design, causing the top edge to fold inward. Glancing over to see that Haldir was still watching, he slowly slid his fingers down the column again. Each change in the movements of his hands caused a similar change in the revolving piece of clay. Haldir watched fascinated as the potter slowed his movements and began to stroke the slick surface. Up and down went his hands, slowly at first then faster and faster. With each upward stroke and the pressure from his fingers inside the cylinder, the clay shaft grew longer and wider. "See how I make it expand with the touch of my fingers," the potter whispered. There was something very sexual about his movements and as Lindir watched, the tip of Haldir's tongue slipped out to slowly wet his dry lips.
"I have excellent hands," the potter murmured in an almost hypnotic voice. "If you wish, come back later and I will show you what they can do."
"Mmm," Haldir mumbled under his breath, his eyes still locked on the slender fingers of the Noldo. That is, until he felt a sharp punch in his side. "Ouch," he yelped, looking at Lindir then laughed as he saw the pink that stained the young elf's cheeks.
"Some other time," he said with a low growl to the bewitching potter.
"You know where to find me, silver-hair," the other replied, looking at Haldir from under half lowered lids then awarding the Marchwarden an extremely sensual smile.
"Let us leave, now." said Lindir sharply, pulling at Haldir's arm. Reluctantly, Haldir complied.
"What was that all about," Lindir asked Haldir, a pout on his soft pink lips. Haldir reached up and pinched the minstrel's cheek. "Just looking at the wares, Lindir. Just looking at the wares."
"Y-You cannot be interested in him!" Lindir spluttered, turning back to look at the dark-haired elf, who still had his eyes on Haldir. "Haldir, you cannot be serious." The Marchwarden just laughed and wrapping his arm around Lindir's waist led him further down the market path.
They walked past pens of animals, woodcarvers, artists and booths containing fat linen sacks of myriad spices and herbs, all the while heading to what was, undoubtedly, the noisiest place in the market area. The whoosh of the large bellows and the steady pounding of a mallet on iron competed against the lighter beats of the hammers of the jewel-smiths, the craftsmen who forged the finer, precious metals into beautiful works of art.
"Wait here, Lindir." Haldir said touching the other on the shoulder. "I shall return in a moment. There is someone I need to speak with."
Lindir looked to where Haldir was heading and his forehead creased into a frown. Midway up the path was a tall black-haired elf clothed in a black tunic and leggings. The potter had obviously taken off his smock and hurried ahead with the idea of waylaying Haldir. That sneaky rogue, Lindir thought, debating on whether or not he should interfere. His mind made up, he began to walk briskly over to where the Marchwarden was heading.
Haldir moved silently up to the dark elf and grasped him smoothly around the waist. "Do not turn around, pen velui (8). Sliding around until he was facing the black-haired beauty, he took a peek over the other's shoulder and whispered into his ear. "Humour me, gwador." And with that, he wrapped his strong arms around the other and gave him a deep, slow, lingering kiss.
Lindir quickened his steps as he saw Haldir's arms encircle the other lf. I cannot believe Haldir is doing this, he thought, right in the middle of the market. That black-haired raven has somehow bewitched the marchwarden. Stepping up behind the tall elf, Lindir grasped him by the shoulder and in a loud voice asked the other what he thought he was doing. The elf turned around slowly and dark eyes swept Lindir from the tip of his boots to the top of his moon-white hair.
Lindir stepped back in complete shock. "Lord Erestor!" He gasped. "I...."
At this, both Haldir and Erestor doubled over with laughter. Haldir had just managed to bring himself under control when he took another look at Lindir's face and broke into laughter again. Poor Lindir! His eyes were as wide as saucers and his face as red as a sugar beet. He stammered and stuttered as he tried to apologize to the dark-haired lord. Erestor meanwhile, could not stop laughing nor manage to catch his breath. When Lindir finally realized it had all been a joke, the red of embarrassment quickly turned to that of anger.
"Haldir, how could you do that to me! Surely you had no time to set that up." Lindir's voice trailed off when he noticed the tears running down Erestor's cheeks. The elf lord was still desperately trying to regain his breath. The start of a smile appeared on Lindir's face and soon he was laughing along with the other two.
It took a moment, but they managed to bring their breathing back under control. The crowd, which had begun to gather around the trio, soon went back to their business once they realized nothing exciting was going to come of the three's actions. "Shopping for a special gift?" Erestor asked, smiling knowingly at Lindir.
"Aye, Erestor," Lindir replied. "You had best walk with us. Haldir and I have quite a bit to fill you in on. Much has happened since our talk. And with that, the three began a slow walk down the path, Lindir and Haldir telling Erestor all about the latest blossoming of love in Imladris.
-Rescue
Glorfindel continued his chanting. Blood flowed freely from the wounds in his thigh and arm, but he could not take the time to bind them. He felt himself grow weaker by the moment, but grit his teeth and continued his silent chant, fighting desperately to keep a clear head.
Moments passed that seemed like days yet still the attackers held back, although he could hear their muttering as they laid out their plans. The golden glow began to weaken and the men looked to their leader as to when to begin their move.
The lone warrior on the proud white horse continued to fight a losing battle with time. Each moment that passed found him closer to losing himself to the blackness. As his mind began to stumble on some of the ancient lines, the glow began to diminish greatly and the men watched their leader's hand for the signal to attack. Glorfindel slumped forward on Asfaloth's back just as the men made their move and a barrage of red and brown fletched arrows flew through the air.

Notes:
1. elleths - elf maidens
2. ellon - elf (male)
3. elleth - elf maid
4. gwador - brother (sworn brother)
5. Nanarad agevedim, Celeng. - Until we next meet, Celeng. (not attested)
6. Nan lû sen, Haldir, Lindir. - Until then, Haldir, Lindir.
7. Nan lû sen. - Until then.
8. pen velui - lovely one.
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The Gift