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Ranger's Folly, Prince's Fate	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3410 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ringsand no money is madefrom this story, main characters and settings created by JRR Tolkien.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter Two: Unexpected Visitors

The journey down the River Trail from Lake-town to the Enchanted River and thus to Ennyn Othronn uin Orod-Neth'elaith (Great Gates of the Underground Fortress of the Mountain amid the Trees) was conducted under armed escort by a contingent of woodland warriors which grew progressively larger as the entourage approached the hidden city. The archers were not threatening in an overt way, in that their bows, while tightly clasped in hand, remained lax, but there were at least two Wood Elves for every Man from Esgaroth and Dale, and four to accompany the Elves from Rivendell and their human companion: two for the man, one for each of Lord Elrond's twin sons. There could be no doubt that the folk of the forest were both assertive and adamant regarding who had leave to wander at will within their woods and who must have the brevet of Thranduil to do so.

The five delegates from Dale abjured to this less than congenial welcome with sullen silence and grim forbearance, having immediately produced the actual document, bearing the signature and seal of the Elven King, authorising their trespass under the eaves. Their leader, one Baragûr, had handed it over the instant the first warrior materialised on the path before them. He knew better than to attempt to stand upon his dignity or engage in any argument with the woodland warriors, who would hear him not and tended to break into song should complaining and grousing begin. Not that Baragûr, or any of the men of Dale, was disposed to voice grievances to the rank and file of the King's elite troops, having better manners than that. And, he would add privately and far from the hearing of the sylvan people, better manners than the elves of the woods.

The single emissary from Lake-town, inexplicably named Andaith, was unwilling to accept the military chaperone graciously and was disposed to remark repeatedly that it was insulting to be treated as little better than a prisoner. He expounded at length on the lack of deference the sylvan archers expressed for his esteemed presence, grumbled about the pace of the march, demanded to speak to the superior officer, if there was any such person of rank at hand, and nearly every fifteen minutes exhorted the sons of Elrond to impose the weight of their august heritage upon the 'minor moriquendi of Mirkwood' and do something about it.

Elladan and Elrohir merely smiled and shrugged whenever this loathsome individual directed his irritating barrage of bellyaching their way while the Wood Elves felt compelled to conduct the majority of the journey singing, with the end result, in Aragorn's view, that it was rather a merry trip overall.
The young man had never been in this region of the world before and was in fact only just beginning to explore the lands beyond the sedate and protected borders of Rivendell, where he had been raised under the watchful guidance of his mother and the great Lord himself, Elrond Half-elven. Against her wishes, the Lord of Imladris had at last revealed to Aragorn his true name and his true heritage and what his place in the great history of Arda really was meant to be. Before then, and for all of his life he could recall, Aragorn had simply been called Estel, and while he was excited and awed to know he was a descendant of such exalted lineage, it was still sometimes hard to think of himself that way.

This was especially true now, as Elladan and Elrohir had counselled him sternly not to reveal his rightful name and identity among any but the Rangers of Eriador. He understood the reasoning given but still found it exasperating to have this novel alter-ego to explore and develop only to be told he must not. How was he to learn and grow into this weighty role if he was never permitted to shoulder the responsibility of being a man, fully come of age and mature in the eyes of his people? The younger Lords of Imladris had accompanied him everywhere he wished to go thus far and he was coming to resent their presence as unnecessary and even debilitating.

Yet, now that they were here in the dark and gloomy realm of Mirkwood, Aragorn found he was not unhappy to have his brothers along, for while the Wood Elves were jolly enough and their music was gay, boldly witty, and often daringly risqué, beneath all the frivolity coursed a wild and untamed spirit that might decide at any time that these strangers were not welcome after all. Only someone as stupid as the delegate from Lake-town would fail to comprehend that those bows could be armed in seconds, the intruders disposed of before any defence could be raised. Even the trees seemed watchful and wary and Aragorn had the impression there were far more sylvan archers present than even the keen senses of Elladan and Elrohir could detect.

The party reached a checkpoint of sorts, marked in no manner Aragorn could recognise, and the warrior beside him called for what was in effect a change of the guard. From both sides of the track and even from the trees above them, sylvan elves flowed into the group and mingled with the warriors escorting the visitors. The singing ended and the elves switched to conversing in a variety of elvish that was only marginally Sindarin. Aragorn had never heard anyone speaking it and could understand next to nothing, but a glance at his brothers indicated they were not so much in the dark. A look of surprised and suppressed amusement passed between them and Aragorn nudged his horse closer to demand a translation.

"What are they saying?" he asked, smiling in advance of the joke. "And how is it you can understand them while I cannot?"

"They express their opinion regarding the noble bearing of our comrade from Esgaroth," said Elladan with a malicious grin.

"We can understand much of what they say for their speech is similar to that spoken among the Galadhrim of Lorien," added Elrohir. "It is not common except among these sylvan folk and thus you were never instructed in it."

"There was no need for they all speak beautiful Sindarin with the most alluring accent," added Elladan, his expression suddenly more welcoming and genuine as he caught the eye of one of the new elves taking over the convoy. A bright smile and a jovial welcome hailed from this person as he made his way to the twins.

"Ela! Elladan ar Elrohir, tultâ di gwa-lassiê." he called. (Behold! Elladan and Elrohir, come under the leaves.) "It has been many long years since last you paid a visit to Greenwood. You were not expected and we've had no word of your coming here."

"Suilad, Elboron," answered Elrohir. "We were not planning on it, but there is news we would share with your brother and since we were in Dale, it seemed best to throw in our lot with these worthy folk. Will you be our guide for the rest of this trek?"

"I will." Elboron's gaze found its way to Aragorn. "You are not like the other men," he said simply. "How are you called and what place do you name home?"

"I am Ar…"

"This is Estel, raised in Imladris in our father's house and a distant kinsman," Elladan quickly interrupted. "He is one of the elf-friends of Eriador."

"Well met, Estel of Imladris," the warrior dipped his head politely to Estel and lifted a speculative brow to the twins all at the same time. "Elboron o Gladgalen greets you."

"Oh, so very modest you have become in your old age," Elrohir laughed and landed a companionable slap upon the warrior's shoulder. "Do not be misled, Estel; this is the King's brother and a prince of the woodland realm."

"Indeed?" exclaimed Andaith, looking the warrior up and down in surprise for to his eye there was no difference between him and the rest of the archers milling about. "Then you are the one I need to speak with, sir. I must tell you plainly that the treatment we have received is nothing less than appalling. I have never been forced to endure such insolence and disrespect. Your soldiers cannot be bothered to answer when addressed nor attend to the simplest demand for rest and refreshment. I expect, now that you are here, this will be rectified immediately."

"He does not speak for me," Estel hastened to say, "nor for any man here save himself. We have been accorded every courtesy possible and serenaded almost every step of the way." He bowed his head in deference and was gratified to see a gleam of mirth in Elboron's eyes.

"What?" sputtered the tedious emissary. "Of course I speak only for myself and Baragûr of Dale. This person has nothing to do with Lake-town and obviously has no reason to expect to be treated as befits a noble of…"

"Baragûr of Dale speaks for himself," announced that very person tersely, eyeing his fellow delegate with great disfavour. He wanted to just order the man to be silent but hadn't the authority to make it work. Fortunately, others present were not so disabled regarding agency.

"Of course, Baragûr, I only meant…"

"Brûn flad-en-gwaew, pedich farn," interrupted Elboron and directed the full force of his ancient eyes upon the hapless man.The weight of that gaze and the penetrating quality of the soul behind them was sufficient to at last silence him. "If you cannot hold your tongue, I will have one of my warriors remove it and hold it for you." He dismissed the man with a curt wave of his hand and at once an archer came and led him away to the back of the caravan.

"Your pardon, Ernil Elboron," said Baragûr as he bowed in his saddle. "Esgaroth is a free city and not under the direct authority of Dale, else he would not have been chosen for this council."

"Nay, Baragûr, since he is not under your jurisdiction, there is nothing for which you need apologise to me," grinned Elboron. "I expect we will not be troubled by his voice until he is given leave to address the convocation."

"Thank Elbereth for that," intoned Elrohir.

"Ah, but the Wood Elves have drowned him out with such sweet song I almost hate to shut him up," complained Elladan. "How may we convince you to sing for us now?"

"Since we have been entertaining you all this time, at least return the courtesy," called one of the sylvan's merrily.

"Aye, let us have a song of Imladris, Hîren," another cajoled.

"That seems only fair," agreed Elrohir and so as the party set forth again the sons of Elrond lifted their voices in song and Aragorn joined them.

The remainder of the trip thus concluded enjoyably and before the twilight gathered under the eaves, the party reached the massive gates barring the way to the fortress of the Elven King. It was a sight few mortals were graced to behold and Aragorn committed every detail to memory.

The barrier was not cast of metal as he'd expected nor constructed of wood in the manner of any doors or portals he'd ever passed through. The gate was alive, comprised of two majestic beeches on either side of the road, taller than any of the surrounding trees, each one's girth like the trunks of ten of their lesser relations combined. They were old, giving the impression that they had stood in this place since the hands of Yavanna set them there, and aware as no trees the man had ever encountered. None could approach without experiencing the probing inspection of their sentient souls. Aragorn wondered what they thought of him and whether they noted him at all or simply responded to the Wood Elves, accepting him for their sake.

Across the breadth of the path reached the limbs of these trees, entwined and knotted in such a manner that none could force through, and yet the effect was pleasing to the eye and seemed to make a pattern as would be found in the seal of some great house. Yet it was not a design comprehensible to any life save green life, unless it be the sylvans, and so no outsider would know that this was the crest and insignia of the Spirit of the Great Wood, of which Greenwood was the largest single component remaining and thus the seat of that entity's might and power.

As Aragorn studied all this, Elboron stepped forward and spoke words in the sylvan tongue which every warrior respectfully murmured in kind. Then the trees seemed to answer, the sound not a voice exactly yet neither simply the creaking of limbs in the wind. The rising note resonated in slow and sonorous solemnity as though the tones echoed up from the depths of the soil where the roots of the trees were anchored, and it seemed to the man that the sentiment communicated by this wholly alien mind was one of welcome and high regard. Then the branches of the trees divided, disentangling from one another and drawing back from the path, bending and lifting up and away, opening a space between them so that the expanse of the bridge could be seen.

Aragorn inhaled a sharp breath and blinked, not sure if the faint light of gloaming was playing tricks with his vision or not, and checked his brothers to see what they made of this sight. It was clear it was nothing new but nonetheless still a thing to give them pause to wonder, and Elladan smiled at Aragorn to confirm it. The bridge looked to be spun of pale silvery silk, the supports as light and airy as a spider's web, the flooring delicate as glass. It glimmered and sparkled as if coated in stardust and one minute seemed substantial, the next an illusion.

Onto this ephemeral structure the Wood Elves trod without hesitation and not even the hooves of the horses made a sound as they crossed, neither did the bridge waver or dip under the strain of their weight. Seeing this, the man was heartened and did not balk at following them. He reached to trail his hand along one of the lacy threads upholding the span and felt a cold, smooth density as of the finest steel beneath his fingertips. He peered over and spied the sluggish black water of the Enchanted River, its motion marked by ripples of deeper shadow here and there where the inky surface undulated in the current. Much rumour and lore had he heard of this flow and being so near he could not doubt any of it; a shiver ran up his spine.

The crossing took no time and as the last elf passed to the opposite shore of the dark river, the great arms of the sentinel trees re-engaged and locked them in. Aragorn looked back, hearing the groaning of the wood, and again startled in shock, for the bridge was gone. He ran forward to ask of Elboron what magic made such things possible, but as he drew near dared not interrupt, for the prince was addressing his brothers seriously and quietly so that the men of Dale and Lake-town would not hear.

"It is best you know before you meet him, for much sorrow has fallen upon us. Curoniel was lost many years ago and while Thranduil survives, you will not help but note the change in my brother."

"I am sorry to know this," replied Elrohir. "It is a great tragedy, for in truth we had all decided he would never find love at all, and now to have lost her seems too cruel a fate."

"Aye, but he is not fading nor is his spirit darkened, for a child survived and Thranduil lives for his son. You will meet him, of course," Elboron continued.

"That is joyous news," nodded Elladan, "but why has no word of this blessing gone forth from Greenwood?"

"It was meant as no slight, I assure you. Our world has darkened and Thranduil feared for the Necromancer to learn of an heir. Curoniel perished when their babe was little more than three years of age and Thranduil became a fiercely protective parent. Perhaps too protective, but I cannot fault him given the sorrow he has known. If he lost his son, too, Thranduil would fade."

"I can understand that," noted Elrohir. He glanced to Aragorn and motioned him closer.

Elboron noticed and turned to the man, favouring him with such intense scrutiny that Aragorn blushed and found he could not hold the penetrating stare. "Ai! Forgive my rude behaviour, Estel, I did not mean to cause you discomfort. If I may, what age are you among your people?"

"I am twenty years old, Ernil Elboron," Aragorn answered, uncertain why this was suddenly of interest or whether he was pleased or peeved with the query. For people that were essentially immortal, elves made much ado about how many years a person had yet seen.

"If I recall correctly, this means you have newly achieved the age of maturity?"

"That is true," inserted Elladan, likewise wondering over the prince's interest, "but Estel has little experience of the world beyond Imladris as yet. For this reason we have undertaken to introduce him to the places of import and the people who dwell therein."

"I am to begin learning the ways of my people soon," added Aragorn, "and will join the Rangers of Eriador."

"I see," said Elboron, putting the truth together succinctly, for the House of Elrond always fostered the descendants of Elros Tarminyatur. "No doubt your place among the Rangers will be one of high rank, indeed." He met the twins gazes and smiled at their grim expressions. "This is fascinating news but does not bear on my reasons for asking about you, Estel," he continued. "I was interested because you are more or less a contemporary of my nephew. He will be intrigued by visitors from a distant realm and have a hundred questions, all of which he is too polite to put to his elders. If it would not displease you, young Dúnadan, perhaps you might indulge the curiosity of the prince?"

"Oh! Of course, that would be no burden," Estel smiled, pleased to hear this distinguishing designation addressed to him, and flashed his brothers a smugly triumphant smirk. Before he could enquire further about the King's son, and before Elladan and Elrohir could issue any orders regarding what he should and should not reveal to the young prince, Elboron called orders of his own to move forward and the entourage advanced into the city.

Now Aragorn had been amazed numerous times already on the relatively short expedition but he had to admit to a definite sense of disappointment regarding his first view of the famed underground stronghold. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected, but he supposed he'd thought the mountain in which the lair was delved would be at least as lofty and imposing as the Lonely Mountain on the plains of Erebor. Not so. The Mountain Amid the Trees was barely more than a hill, certainly not tall enough to deter the thick growth of fir and spruce trees which crowned its softly rounded head. Now he understood why he hadn't been able to spy the peak en route; it wasn't some form of elvish magic which hid it from view but the abundance of trees into which it simply vanished.

There was scarcely any distinction between the region surrounding the King's seat and the actual grounds of the royal dwelling. In Imladris, the Last Homely House was well marked, a veritable palace that stood in its own exquisitely landscaped gardens replete with beautiful statuary, fountains, restful meandering pathways, flowers grown for both their beauty and scent, and fronted by a formal courtyard perfectly designed for greeting weary travellers. There was nothing like that here and Aragorn gazed about him, wondering where everyone was for there were no sylvans about save the warriors who had escorted them in, and these were quickly dispersing to locations undisclosed and impossible to divine.

He caught Elrohir's eye, a baleful and almost pleading light shining in it that made Aragorn scowl. Did his brothers trust so little to the upbringing he'd received? It wasn't as if he was about to make some tactless comment about the lack of refinement in the woodland realm. The man found his patience wearing thin indeed and feared he would have to make a stand against the twins and force them to acknowledge him as an adult. How to do this was perplexing in the extreme for he found they generally knew what his objections were going to be before he did and had ready answers prepared to deliver. What was even more infuriating was that their reasoning was ultimately sound and based on long experience fostering his forebears, a quality he could never match even if he lived as long as Tarminyatur himself.

His inner turmoil was diverted for the time being as an elf approached them rapidly, seeming to materialise out of the darkness, for by now the last of the twilight had dissipated. Aragorn wondered if this was the young prince but was quickly disabused of that notion as Elboron first named him and then greeted him.

"Ah, here is Galion, without whom the workings of the stronghold would grind to a halt. Suilad, mellon, how fares muindoren this eve?"

"Better, now that he has satisfied himself that his beloved child is not on the threshold of Mandos. I thought he was going to have you thrown in the dungeons when he saw those injuries."

"So did I," intoned Elboron. "Now here are the delegates from Dale, delivered safe and sound as I promised, and with them have arrived guests of distinction from afar. Elo! Here are the Lords of Imladris, Elladan and Elrohir, and with them Estel, a man who hails from the fair valley and is counted a citizen of that realm. What do you think? Will we have room for them?"

"What rubbish you speak," Galion fumed, colouring though the dark hid it. He did not like so much jesting in front of mortals, for how were they to know it was but a joke. "Welcome, Lords of Imladris, the House of Oropher is pleased to host the House of Eärendil." The King's seneschal bowed low and spoke graciously, though he was truly not so sure Thranduil would be glad of company during the trade negotiations about to commence.

He smiled at the twins, unable to determine which was which, noting they looked even more dangerous and intimidating than they had when last they'd been in Greenwood: taller, darker, wearing more mithril mail and black leather and those evil swords at their sides, and judged the rumours about them to be true. It was said they were obsessed with slaughtering orcs and while some might fear for the brothers' sanity, none were willing to stand in their way. Even their horses were fitted for battle as a matter of course and the twins were more particular about how their steeds were treated than what accommodations they received. The man he appraised briefly and dismissed; if Elrond chose to indulge the lesser kindred it was no concern of Galion's.

"Well said, mellon," nodded Elladan, assuming the annoying habit of speaking for everyone. "We are pleased to be once more beneath the bountiful eaves of Greenwood the Great. I beg you will take word to Aran Thranduil that we have news of a serious nature to impart to him."

"I will do so," agreed Galion, "and leave you in the care of Ernil Elboron while I see to the disposition of the men of Dale."

"And Lake-town!" imposed a disgruntled voice behind them. Andaith had boldly advanced to the small knot of elves, determined to assert his authority and receive the attention he so justly deserved. When four sets of discerning and censorious eyes pierced him to the soul, however, he faltered and stopped where he was. "Your pardon," he mumbled, dropping his head low and backing away.

Elrohir could not suppress a chuckle at this display and addressed Elboron. "Ernilen, we will happily follow Your Eminence so that worthy Galion may accord the expected guests the courtesy they merit, especially if there is a bottle of Dorwinion in the rooms to which you may now escort Us." He shared a twinkling glance at Aragorn for he was, of course, playing up his brother's royal 'we'.

"But of course, Your Grace," Elboron delivered an exaggerated bow, for he had to put up with this sort of thing from his elder brother all the time, too. "Come this way and any need or desire you possess will be instantly met."

"Ai Valar," Elladan briefly covered his eyes in chagrin but laughed nonetheless. "Enough, this is what I get for attempting to meet the occasion with due dignity and proper protocol. So be it; every elf, and man, for himself. As eldest, I'll have the largest apartment and the one closest to that lovely grotto where the hot spring is found."

"Put the notion from your thoughts, muindor; you had it last time and it is thus my turn," contested Elrohir.

"Well, I can see this is leading to another of the famous decision-making sword fights which were so thrilling when last you two were here," laughed Elboron. "If I recall, you are evenly matched and these bouts go on for hours and hours. Really, I can settle it for you now: Estel shall have the grotto suite."

"What?"

"Nay! You cannot give it to him."

"Too late. Elboron, Ernil o Gladgalen, pennen."

All through this light foolery, they were moving through the darkness along a pathway Aragorn could not see and he had to depend on the soft natural glow of the First-born to keep him from stumbling. He wished the Wood Elves were disposed to use torches but guessed the threat of fire prohibited it here in the open. He was wrong; they simply had no need of it, being adapted to see quite well in the gloom beneath the trees.

Nonetheless, their trajectory curved around the broad base of the mountain and soon a glare of bright yellow streamed out across the way, the close-clustered bolls casting stark black shadows in which were briefly displayed the vague shape of an elf who must have been clinging to the branches, watching the procession. It gave Aragorn the impression of spectres and wood sprites lurking in the trees and he could not help but glance sharply about him. If they were really there, his vision could not penetrate the gloom and he hastened his step to reach the source of the warm light.

He soon discovered that they were nearing the entrance to the stronghold: a huge round opening in the side of the mountain that looked less like the portal into one of the most powerful realms of elf-kind and more like a rude cave in which a pack of dire wolves might dwell. Once inside, there was a long tunnel sloping downward and along this they trod. The deeper they went, the less the place looked like the lair of some wild creature and the more it began to resemble a corridor in a mighty citadel.

The rough and dusty granite transitioned to smoothly polished stone, the light of torches playing upon the individual minerals of which it was comprised. The walls and floor were cleanly cut, the angles perfect, the ceiling braced with sturdy beams and columns, elegantly carved to resemble living trees. The rock was sculpted, too, with a bold knot-work pattern running in relief at waist height the entire length of the tunnel. After a short time, the passage levelled out and came into a vestibule from which three arched openings led away. Elboron paused and turned to his guests.

"Galion will bring Thranduil to us and so perhaps it would be best to repair to the grotto now and wash away the weariness of travel, if that suits you. We can go from there to my apartment."

"That is the best suggestion I have heard in many months, Elboron," agreed Elladan, "especially if you will have someone bring us a bottle of that fine wine to savour while we soak."

So it was agreed and the prince led them through the furthest door on the left and again the way descended into the bowels of the mountain. They came at length to hear voices and music, laughter and song, and the temperature rose as the air grew humid and thick with a spicy scent of minerals and incense mingling in the heavy atmosphere. Abruptly, the corridor dipped down in a series of broad curving steps and at the end opened into an enormous cavern, natural but enhanced, so that amazing formations of crystals and gems sprouted from the roof and the floor and draped in dramatic curtains along the walls.

The room was divided into separate areas by virtue of the pools scattered throughout the space, all surrounded by clusters of stone and crystal which formed unique and fascinating barriers between the sections. All was lit in soft subdued lamplight, the flickering flames hidden within the precious stones so that the various spots of illumination gleamed in shades of red and ochre, blue and pale citron, and here and there a luminous violet. Everywhere were groups of elves enjoying the heated spa, some coupled and engaged in what was obviously quite intimate behaviour, shielded from overt observation by the looming formations, the warm and misty fog rolling along the floor, and the muted light. Some were merely sharing a communal soak or reclining on stone benches absorbing the heat and near these groups musicians and singers were situated amid the outcropping rocks, filling the scene with harmonious song.

It was an inviting environment to say the least and Aragorn realised he was grinning hugely. He tapped Elboron on the shoulder. "You did say my quarters abut this chamber?"

"Hah! Looks like the young Dúnadan recognises the potential here," the prince chortled. "Yes, but your rooms adjoin the private area reserved for Thranduil's family. We are going there now and you will see the added benefit the privacy affords anyone wishing to spend an evening exploring the joys of intimate union."

"Such pretty words," laughed Elladan. "I've not had the benefit of 'intimate union' for more months than I care to reveal and will likely as not fuck the first naked arse I come upon."

"Crude and rude, just as I recall," Elboron shook his head in mock censure. "It must be the influence of the mortal side of your heritage that makes you pursue carnal pleasures so indiscriminately."

"Don't be insulting or I'll have to mention how backwards and primitive sylvan society is, still using stone tools and unable to read and write proper Sindarin," retorted Elrohir, to which Elboron laughed heartily. "Besides, it did not seem to me the Wood Elves back there were practising abstinence, and we aren't indiscriminate. It must be a very fine, soft arse willing to be penetrated deeply and forcefully for a frightfully long time. I seem to recall there are numerous elves among the sylvans who meet that very criteria."

"Yes, I remember that, too," said Elladan, "and fail to comprehend why we have neglected to visit the woodland realm for so many long years."

By this time they had reached a more secluded area, a second and smaller chamber which opened from the massive cavern. The room was just as subtly lighted and more private, for the various pools were partitioned off with woven screens and curtains. There was one large pool for the traditional communal soaking and in this were several elves, all of whom hailed Elboron with joy. It became immediately clear to Aragorn that the prince had many descendants and was much loved by his progeny. He was introduced to them and invited to join in a hunt set for the morrow, to which he agreed.

After that, Elboron guided them to one of the sheltered baths and bade them soak to their heart's content, promising to come back for them as soon as Thranduil was done with the men of Dale. When pressed, the prince admitted he wanted to get home to his wife-mate and would not be deterred. Thus the Lords of Imladris were left to enjoy the soothing waters alone, but they were not alone for very long.

From some hidden hallway three elves entered, two females and a male, tall and willowy, exceedingly fair, golden haired, utterly naked, and in the case of the male, blatantly aroused. They brought the promised wine and offered along with it the very service Elrohir had so colourfully described. The three brothers declined for the time being but reserved the privilege of accepting this generous offer later when their conference with the King was over. When the triad of alluring and eager pleasure-seekers had gone, the visitors regarded each other in silence for a few seconds before Aragorn could hold his questions in no longer.

"Courtesans?" he asked, half in shock and half in prurient delight, his words couched low lest the elves out in the communal pool overhear him.

"Aye," said Elladan. "Here there is an entire class of society engaged in this pursuit, much as there are glass-blowers and metal-smiths. Or rather, stone-workers," he snorted.

"Elbereth, I had no idea," whispered Aragorn. "And here I was thinking what a miserable place this was going to be. Why didn't you tell me?"

"To be honest, we forgot," Elrohir shrugged. "We've not been here in over three centuries, Estel, and we've had other things on our minds."

"And they do not care that this is their status in the woodland realm?" asked the ingenuous young man.

"Nay, why should they?" asked Elladan. "It is an honourable calling and one of personal choice. No one is forced to undertake that livelihood and acceptance into the profession is limited and competitive. I remember now that my melethron last time had waited nearly fifty years before being chosen."

"Amazing," murmured Aragorn. He leaned back and let the hot water soothe away the strain of the journey, imagining the days ahead with great anticipation. So vivid was his interior landscape that he completely forgot every other reason he had for being in Greenwood.
TBC

NOTE: Now we have had the chance to meet Aragorn and enjoy his perspective on the woodland realm. I hope it is fairly clear this is a young and inexperienced Aragorn, chaffing a bit under his brother's over-protective inclinations, and not the worldly wise ranger we meet in Fellowship of the Ring. Don't worry, our two heroes will meet very very soon. :D

Glossary:

Baragûr - Fiery-heart

Andaith - a mark denoting a long sound for a vowel.

Ela! Elladan ar Elrohir, tultâ di gwa-lassiê - Behold! Elladan and Elrohir, come under the leaves. ( a traditional sylvan greeting in primitive elvish)

Brûn flad-en-gwaew, pedich farn - Old bag of wind, you speak enough (you talk too much)

melethron - male lover

Ernilen - My Prince

Elboron - Brave Star

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.
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Ranger's Folly, Prince's Fate

Chapter Two: Unexpected Visitors

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.