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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26421 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
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Chapter I

Legolas sighed in resignation as his father explained why he could not attend the dinner in honor of the Imladrin delegation. Though he was a prince of the realm, he was very young. Much too young for the occasion. Only Elves of above forty years would be attending. He took a quick peek behind the king and saw his brothers smirking with gratification.

Once Thranduil had ascertained just who had mistreated Legolas and shamed the kingdom before the Rivendell Elves, he had wasted no time in treating the culprit to a scathing reprimand. Lalorn had longed for the ground to open up and swallow his lanky frame by the time his father was done with him. But the others had not escaped their share of the dressing down either and were severely rebuked for allowing the transgression in the first place.

Naturally, they were still smarting over it. But under the circumstances they could hardly vent their ire on Elrond's son for showing them up or on Legolas for being the reason for Elrohir's intervention.

Elrohir was a guest and one did not quarrel with one's guest without risking looking like a boor. Furthermore, Thranduil's sons sensed that the twins were not to be trifled with for all their youth. Though but seventy years of age, they exhibited all the signs of well-trained fighters. There was also the matter of their abundant graces, which many of the Wood-elves were hoping to partake of. The princes were no exceptions.

Legolas, on the other hand, was for now very much under their father's protective eye. The Elvenking would know soon enough if not immediately should any of them dare take their offended sensibilities out on him. Well, it was not surprising that they should glean some pleasure from his exclusion from this special event.

The Elfling watched his father and brothers walk away together, the younger princes chatting excitedly while tall Haldoron and strapping Aelluin tried to feign nonchalance. A hand on his shoulder reminded him of his nursemaid's presence.

“Come, hirneth”-young lord-“'tis time for bed,” she said.

Legolas pouted. Time for bed indeed! 'Twas hardly dark and already all Moriel could think of was to tuck him in that she might return soonest to that silly book she was reading.

As he entered his room, his baleful gaze fell on his window and the tall tree just outside. Its branches moved and its foliage rustled ever so slightly in the strong breeze that had kicked up when evening fell. The little Elf's eyes lit up.

**********

The site of the welcome feast was located not in Thranduil's cavernous halls but in the neighboring pavilion. Delved primarily for defense and protection, the Elvenking's palace housed his throne room, the official audience chamber, the various offices and quarters of his household staff, the always well-stocked pantries and cellars, spare bedchambers for when the royal family might need to retreat into its fastness and, of course, the dungeons.

But Thranduil and his children resided in a detached dwelling, large and airy as a great house but warm and cozy for all its size. Built into the trees behind the palace, it was reached by a sturdy bridge of wood and vine. Here were the living quarters of the royal family - their apartments, the guest chambers, the king's study and library, the family gaming room, and the private dining chamber and baths. Here, too, taking up the entire east wing, was the gracious hall that served as the venue for functions such as the one that was even now taking place within its walls.

The brethren Elladan and Elrohir managed to disengage themselves from the relentless press of admirers about them. They were not unused to such attention but neither were they delighted to be at the center of it without surcease. A subtle sign to their Imladrin guards and the twins gained themselves a moment's respite while said guards politely but firmly barred the way of any interloper.

Elladan waited as his brother perused the crowd once more. At one end of the hall, their father and Erestor were steeped in conversation with Thranduil. Elsewhere, flanked by Lindir and Glorfindel, their mother held an audience in thrall, as she discoursed as knowledgeably on the medicinal virtues of belladonna and angelica-root and the merits and disadvantages of various battle tactics as she did on the finer points of quilt making and sonnet writing.

“He is not here, brother mine,” Elladan at last said. “Nor do I think will he show up. Have you not noticed that there are none younger than two score years in this gathering?”

Elrohir nodded. “I noticed. But I had hoped an exception would be made for that little one. My blood boils whenever I recall how his brothers treated him this morn. They are none of them prizes, these other sons of Thranduil.”

Elladan smiled mirthlessly. “I will not gainsay you,” he said. “Haldoron propositioned me at the baths right after the noon-meal. He had the gall to suggest that the favor of the Crown Prince was an honor not lightly given and that it would behoove me to accept it.”

His twin snorted in disdain. “Eru's blood, his head is more swollen than the Bruinen during spring thaw! I hope you put him in his place, tôr iaur.”-older brother.

Elladan shrugged. “Oh, I simply told him that 'twould not be meet for the Crown Prince to be unable to sit still long enough to last the first course.”

The Elf-knight guffawed. He could just imagine Haldoron's expression at being answered thusly by one some twelve decades his junior. He was about to make an approving reply when, through the corner of his eye, he espied something. There by the great balcony that opened the hall to the forest beyond. Where a great old oak stood, its branches partly shading the uncovered space.

********

Legolas peered through the foliage to observe the proceedings within the brightly lit hall. From his vantage point, he could see virtually everyone and every occurrence inside and his eyes danced in elation at being part of the occasion even if vicariously.

His smile of excitement faded somewhat when he saw his brothers take their places in the middle of the hall to lead others in a festive woodland dance, silver-haired Galvreth who was the best dancer of the lot taking the principal position. He spotted one of the twins watching the dance alongside Erestor and Glorfindel. Elladan, he guessed, from the way the torchlight revealed the faintest gleam of brown in his sable locks. Elrohir's hair was a stark blue-black that no amount of light could render the least bit golden in hue. It was the single physical difference between the brethren that he had been able to discover since the visitors' arrival.

He frowned, wondering where the Elf-knight could be. A moment later, he nearly yelped when a strong hand grasped the branch upon which he perched followed by the Elf-knight himself as he hoisted himself with ease onto the tree limb, formal raiment and all. He regarded the stunned Elfling with a sternness that had the child flushing in guilt, more so when the twin presented such an imposing figure garbed as he was for a court function.

His low-necked silver grey long tunic was of the finest silk and heavily embellished with purl embroidery, tiny sapphires and crystal beads, and thin silver cord. The long-sleeved high collared under-shirt beneath was of so immaculate a white that it reflected light, contrasting with the dark grey hose and shoes that enclosed his long legs and shod his feet. A mantle of deepest purple was draped asymmetrically across his chest, pinned to one shoulder with a large cameo brooch depicting the likeness of his Telerin foresire, Thingol of Doriath. On his head was a simple but elegant circlet of mithril inlaid with sapphires. Only in the styling of his raven tresses had he eschewed elven fashion for he had bound his hair in the manner of the Men of the West - in a thick single plait that hung down between his shoulder-blades with a silver riband woven into the dark locks. It was a penchant he shared with his twin for Elladan had braided his hair likewise.

Elrohir glanced to his side and noted the long row of trees that led down that side of the pavilion to the bedchambers at the other end.

“Do not tell me you came here by way of those trees,” he reproached his diminutive companion.

Legolas flushed even more until his cheeks were stained scarlet. With his fine chin-length hair forming a shining cap about his head, his crystalline eyes framed by thick dark gold lashes, his lips a rosy cupid's bow and his slender frame clad in loose bed-clothes of pale green, he did not look so much an Elf-child as he did a tiny doll. And an adorable one at that, Elrohir thought, suppressing a grin. The wives and maids of Rivendell would coddle him senseless were he to ever come to the hidden vale.

“You - you would not tell Ada”-Papa-the Elfling tremulously pleaded. “Would you?” The blue eyes began to brim with forlorn tears at the thought that his newfound hero would turn on him.

It was too much for Elrohir to withstand. He dropped his pretense of ire.

“Of course not,” he cooed reassuringly, settling himself beside the child. “I daresay 'tis a much better place to be than in the midst of that crowd, making small talk and being on one's best behavior even when one is bored to death. Indeed, I envied you for taking refuge up here.”

Legolas stared at him, his mouth forming an astonished 'o' that grew rounder with every word of Elrohir's declaration. He shook his head in bemusement after.

“You are nothing like my brothers,” he honestly commented.

“Thank Elbereth for that!” Elrohir quipped. His eyes softened and his voice gentled. “Do they always afflict you so?”

The Elfling sighed. “Not always but often enough,” he admitted, his high piping voice subdued. “Haldoron and Aelluin are not so bad. They only ignore me.”

Elrohir frowned that the child should think neglect a kinder fate. “What of the others?”

“They tease me a lot.”

“To tears?”

Legolas nodded, biting his lip at the memory of thoughtless gibes. Yet he dimpled after a moment, happy that someone should listen so understandingly to his woes.

“Shameless knaves,” Elrohir said cuttingly. “Why do they torment you so, Legolas? Do you know?”

Legolas shook his head. “It has always been thus with them,” he said with childlike resignation. “I do not remember a time when they did not dislike me.”

The twin regarded him long and curiously. He took note of the child's fine features, blurred for now by the rounded softness of childhood but patently indicative of the beauty he would possess as he matured. And Elrohir did not doubt it would be a beauty that would surpass his brothers'. Or many an Elf's for that matter whether of Silvan, Sindarin or Noldorin stock.

“You are very much alike to your mother in countenance, yes?” he ventured.

A small smile lifted the corners of the little Elf's lips. “Aye, everyone tells me so.”

“Ah, and she was a renowned beauty from what I have heard,” Elrohir mused. “As you will be one day, I warrant.”

“Me?” Legolas squeaked in shock.

Elrohir laughed merrily. “Aye, you, princeling,” he said. “No wonder your brothers act with such envy toward you.”

Legolas frowned in puzzlement. “Envy?”

“They are jealous of you,” Elrohir elucidated. He reached out and tousled the child's hair; felt the soft strands slip through his fingers like silk. “'Tis hard to stomach the thought that one will be overshadowed by a mere infant ere long.”

“I am not an infant!” Legolas exclaimed hotly. He subsided an instant later, aghast at having spoken so to the Elf-knight. But Elrohir only chuckled amiably.

“Apparently not, maethor dithen”-little warrior-he replied with a grin. “I have known no babe to be so fierce!” His grey eyes twinkled and Legolas was startled to see the flash of silver in the dark pools. “Still, you are very young and I imagine it wounds your brothers' vanity to hear your praises sung even now when once it was theirs. Yet never at so early an age as is the case with you.”

Legolas gaped at him. “Do you truly think so?” he asked doubtfully.

“I do judging from what I have observed of your brethren. They are as proud as your father but not yet tempered as he is. I would that he took a hand to their backsides to remind them of their manners. Or better yet, a riding crop.”

Legolas gasped, the concept of corporal punishment alien to him. “Surely Lord Elrond never - never…” he stuttered, unable to believe that the kind-faced Master of Rivendell would do such a thing to his children.

“He has not,” Elrohir hastened to assure him. “But then Elladan and I have never given him reason to. Well, on occasion, we have come close. Perilously close,” he added with a wicked smirk that elicited a like reaction from the Elfling.

Their attention was snared by a veritable procession of servants crossing the bridge bearing trays laden with food. Post-dinner sweets and hot spiced wine the two realized when the servants entered the great hall and they could make out the trays' contents. Elrohir stole a glance at Legolas and saw how the little Elf stared at the mouthwatering treats as if spellbound.

He grinned and said, “Come, ernil neth.”-young prince. “I find I am still hungry.”

Legolas looked at him in alarm. “Oh, but I am not supposed to be here!”

“And you will not be 'here',” Elrohir assured him. “We shall go to the source of that bounty.” He nodded toward the great cave whence the servants had emerged. “I do not think any would deem it wrong for a ravenous Elfling to sneak out of bed for a bite to eat.”

To Legolas' amazement and delight, Elrohir accompanied him by way of the same treetops the princeling had traversed earlier. They swiftly crossed the bridge, entered the palace and presented themselves in the royal kitchens.

Galion, the king's butler, was nonplussed to see them and even more astounded when Elrohir sat Legolas at the long wooden servants' table, doffed his mantle and tunic, and amiably requested but with authority that they be served forthwith. Though taken aback by the unexpected incursion into their domain, Galion and his fellows hastened to comply. Legolas was after all their prince even if he was but a child. And so very sweet and comely a child he was. And Elrohir was more than welcome to linger in their midst. Just the sight of his dark beauty was enough to leaven their toils.

Elf-prince and Elvenlord feasted among other things on savory pies stuffed with game, carrots and potatoes and seasoned with thyme, rosemary and sage; piping hot scones slathered with freshly churned butter and golden honey; delicate tartlets topped with wild fruit glazed with melted homemade jam; and cream pastries covered with a delicious dark brown substance from Rhûn curiously called chocolate. To wash their meal down, they quaffed mulled wine, Legolas' portion watered down and sweetened further as was the practice for children.

The servants were enthralled as the two made merry on their own and with much more apparent enjoyment on the Elf-knight's part than when he'd been at the gathering. They jested without restraint, invited the others to partake of the food set before them, cajoled some to sing with them (with Elrohir carefully selecting ditties suitable for Elflings' ears) and inveigled Galion into recounting numerous tales about the visitors, elven and otherwise, who had graced the woodland court.

It was way past any child's bedtime when Elrohir finally donned his tunic and mantle, gathered a sleepy but happy forest prince in his arms and, after thanking the kitchen staff and bidding them goodnight, gently bore his charge to the pavilion and his bedchamber.

They grinned in comradely complicity when they entered Legolas' apartment and espied Moriel ensconced in the large easy chair by the sitting room hearth, her book fallen to the woven rug at her feet, her head nodding in deep slumber. It had been quite simple for the prince to clamber out of his bedroom window unnoticed once the Elf-woman had fallen asleep. Elrohir stared at her incredulously when he heard the unmistakable buzz of snoring. He stifled his laughter hastily.

“Sweet Eru,” he gasped as he carried Legolas into the bedroom. “I thought only Dwarves could make such a sound. How in Arda do you manage to sleep?”

Legolas giggled. “I am used to it. And it comforts me when I hear her, knowing she is just outside.”

Elrohir grinned back as he deposited Legolas on the bed. “'Tis the first time I have heard such a cacophony deemed soothing.” He pulled up the covers and tucked them around his little friend. “My own recollections of bedtime are of gentle kisses and soft lullabies.”

“Mine, too,” Legolas whispered. “When Nana was still with us.”

Elrohir heard the wistfulness in the child's voice. “I cannot replace your dear mother,” he softly said. “But I would comfort you if you permit it.”

Perched on the side of Legolas' narrow bed, he began to sing an old lullaby Celebrían had oft crooned to him and Elladan in years long gone by. For a while, Legolas raptly listened to him, his jewel eyes alight with joy. But at last, sleep overtook him and his lids slowly fluttered shut. Elrohir bent and kissed his smooth brow.

“Good night, lass dithen”-little leaf-he whispered. “May your dreams be naught but pleasant and sweet.”

A smile curved the child's lips as, even in slumber, he felt the gentle caress and sensed the warm concern the Elf-knight bestowed upon him. Elrohir regarded him a moment longer before slipping out of the room and returning to the great hall.

***********

“What do you mean all the cream pastries are gone?” Nimaras demanded the next morning. Galion stolidly repeated his statement that there were no more cream pastries to be had. “But I distinctly remember a tray of them being brought back to the kitchens last night!” the fifth-born prince petulantly insisted.

They were all gathered in the private dining chamber for the morning meal, royal family and noble guests alike. In keeping with the Wood-elves' frugal natures, Thranduil had ordered any and all foods from the night before be served along with the fresh viands ere they spoiled and went to waste.

His older sons had at once demanded that the sweets be reserved for them alone. But to their dismay, not one of the toothsome chocolate-covered confections still remained. Or the luscious wild strawberry tartlets. Or the rich buns topped with sugar shavings and chopped walnuts.

Dark-haired Elivorn, Thranduil's third son, scowled and turned to his sire in umbrage. “Adar, it seems the scullions have stolen from our larders. Their perfidy should not go unpunished.”

Thranduil glanced at his butler. Galion kept a tight ship as a rule and even more so when there were guests in residence. The king did not believe his faithful butler would knowingly allow any pilferage of the palace stores and had chosen his staff as much for their honesty as for their industry. He raised his eyebrow inquiringly at the Elf whereupon Galion simply nodded in the direction of the king's youngest and the Peredhel twin who sat by his side. Thranduil's eyes widened just a tiny bit before they softened and he was seen to smile.

“I think not,” he mildly informed Elivorn. “And I daresay you were mistaken about the sweets, Nimaras.”

“Nay, I was not,” Nimaras obstinately insisted, tossing his bronze mane as he vigorously shook his head. “I saw them and I recall looking forward to having them this morn. Elivorn is right. The scullions must have stolen them!”

“They did not!” Legolas suddenly piped up, refusing to let others take the blame for something they had not done.

Aelluin looked at him skeptically, his azure eyes narrowing. “How would you know?”

“Because Legolas and I were with Galion and his people last night,” Elrohir replied, his eyes daring any to assail the littlest prince. “If naught is left of the sweets you so covet, blame me for 'twas I who suggested that we indulge ourselves and I who invited the kitchen staff to join us!”

Silence fell for a space upon the royal brood. The Lord and Lady of Rivendell and their captain and chief counselor however only shook their heads in resigned acceptance. Elladan, on the other hand, concealed a grin of approbation.

“You do realize that you took our brother away from his bed when he should have been asleep,” Haldoron cautiously chided, careful not to appear hostile to a guest of the kingdom.

“But he didn't-“ Legolas started to protest before he was summarily silenced by Elrohir's quick warning glance.

“I did not know 'tis a crime in this realm to feed a hungry child though it be past his bedtime,” the Elf-knight grimly rejoined. “Rest assured I will not repeat this transgression.”

“Nonsense!” Thranduil gruffly said, feeling his respect for Elrond's younger son rise. Somehow, he just knew that Elrohir had shielded Legolas for some deed he would have been hard-pressed to defend or condone before his other sons. “I see no wrong in your actions, pen neth.”-young one. “Indeed, I am pleased to see Legolas so content this morn. I trust your appetite was sated, iônen?”-my son?

Legolas nodded and beamed brightly at his father. Watching him glow under the kind attention, Elrohir felt the prickle of affection he'd felt for the child the night before swell within his heart. It took so little to make the little one happy. Why couldn't his brothers set aside their envy and apply themselves to eliciting his sunny smile and cheerful laughter instead?

Unbidden, it came to him that the Elfling would one day leave a mark on his life. A very telling mark.

The gift of foresight had always been strong in Elrond's house. Elrohir did not doubt that he had been given fair warning of a time when his and Legolas' lives would somehow intersect in ways he had not yet thought of or imagined. He wondered if it would be cause for regret or rejoicing then decided that, for the woodland princeling, he would abide either, the grief or the joy.

***********************

Glossary:

meet - fitting or suitable (archaic)

riband - ribbon used for decorative purposes (archaic)

Nana - Mama

adar - father

To be continued…
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness