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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26417 -:- 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.

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Chapter XXXIV

True to the fears of the Wise, great evil did not cease to hound the Free Peoples of Middle-earth despite the victory over the Witch-king. Six years later, the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm were driven from their magnificent underground mansions by a malignant spirit they unwittingly unearthed as they searched and delved ever deeper for the truesilver that was the foundation of their wealth. Moria, the Black Pit, the Dwarves' realm came to be called and ever after it was known as a place of dread and danger. Soon after, the Dwarves journeyed to Erebor east of Dale and Esgaroth and founded their kingdom under the mountain.

Meanwhile, strife invaded Lothlórien's tranquil woods and many a Silvan Elf fled south before the onslaught, some seeking refuge as far away as Gondor's seaward fiefs. Thus did an Elf-maid come under the protection of a mortal lord and elven blood entered the line of the future Princes of Dol Amroth.

Gondor herself suffered an appalling loss little more than a quarter century after the downfall of Angmar. Following a brutal two-year siege, Minas Ithil, the shining Moontower on the very border of accursed Mordor, was captured by the creatures known to the Elves as the Úlairi. It was thereafter called the Tower of Black Sorcery or Minas Morgul. In the wake of this grievous setback, Minas Anor, Tower of the Sun, seat of the kings of Gondor, came to be known as Minas Tirith, Tower of the Guard.

A king bearing Anárion's blood still reigned in Gondor for Eärnil was of that line. But his son and heir Eärnur was of another sort entirely and the learned amongst the southern kingdom were not sanguine about the dynasty's continued survival. It was a thought shared in large measure with the Elves. Elrond in particular harbored no great fondness for his distant kinsman, seeing naught in Eärnur of the wisdom, prudence or strength of character that had been the most marked traits of Elendil and his heirs.

Once Eärnur became king, it would be a matter of years, not decades ere the line of Anárion came to an end, Elrond somberly told Mithrandir during one of the Istar's visits to Imladris. That the remark was born of the Peredhel lord's educated opinion of the Man rather than a foreboding given him by his much vaunted gift of foresight did not make it any less valid or pertinent. For Mithrandir perforce agreed with him after taking stock of the reports that came to them by way of diplomatic channels, trade negotiations and the ever inevitable espionage.

**********

Imladris, T.A. 2036

While the line of the kings seemed destined to gutter out in the south, the same could not be said of Elendil's heirs in the north. Though shorn of crown and scepter, Aranarth continued to lead the remnants of the Men of the West who had ably served his father and forebears. And the first Chieftain of the northern Dúnedain proved quite the prolific sire once he took one of his nobles' daughters to wife. Maid-children he had aplenty as well as the requisite son and heir and two more after to ensure the continuance of his line.

He sent them to Elrond for fostering and tutelage when the youngest attained his sixth year and it was with much bemusement that the Elven folk of Rivendell watched these mortal kin of their lord grow, learn and flourish. Elrond's children in particular took a great interest in these cousins of theirs whose claim of kinship lay in the convoluted lines of descent from the first Peredhil. It was not unusual to see Arwen helping Celebrían teach Aranarth's daughters the finer points of court dress and behavior. Or the twins schooling young Arahael and his brothers in horsemanship and all manner of war-craft despite their tender ages. The times did not permit an overlong period of innocence and ignorance for children especially if said children were the progeny of a king-in-waiting.

But while Elladan and Elrohir took their stewardship of their cousins in stride, the same could not be said of their woodland spouses. Legolas and Galvreth, though always willing to be of aid to their Peredhil mates, did not try to pretend that they knew more than next to nothing about the rearing of children. Thus, they were kind and pleasant and unfailingly polite when they were around Aranarth's brood but would sooner avoid their company if they could help it. And help it they did as much as they could manage.

Unfortunately, eluding the children was not always possible as Legolas found out one early morning out on the archery yard of the Last Homely House. While the twins and Galvreth watched and waited in the shade of a tree on the yard's periphery, he got on with the business of honing his already formidable bowman's skills. The prince had assumed that the hour would be too early for any children of good sense to be roaming about. He was mistaken in that assumption for ere long he found himself with a wide-eyed audience consisting of Aranarth's youngest, a sturdy boy who had just turned seven, all the way to his eldest, an openly worshipful maiden of fifteen who 'oohed' and 'aahed' at his every shot much to the derision of ten-year-old Arahael who thought his sister's avid adoration of the Mirkwood archer an unfortunate affliction exclusive to girls of a certain age.

Not content to simply watch the archer, the children later besieged him with questions of every kind, including unseemly references to his relationship with their distant cousin, the gallant Elf-knight. He was seen to dart rather desperate glances at Elrohir though the younger twin had no idea what discomfited him so.

At last Legolas detached himself from his youthful charges and joined his darkling spouse. The nigh graceless manner with which he all but plopped himself beside Elrohir confirmed the Elf-knight's suspicion that Legolas had just made an escape from a duty too onerous for his taste.

“'Tis no wonder I was fashioned to love a fellow ellon”-male Elf-Legolas remarked with some exasperation. “Eru ensured I would not sire children for he knew I would not be fit to raise any!”

The others regarded him with astonishment, even Elrohir. The younger twin reached up and soothingly stroked his hair. “Why, Legolas?” he queried. “What did they do that so ruffled your sensibilities?”

Legolas sighed and leaned his head against Elrohir's shoulder. “Ai, they are sweet and comely and bright besides, but, Valar, they have no concept of restraint! They talk without cease and ask the most impertinent questions. I could not decide whether to laugh at their inquiries or scold them for thinking of them in the first place!”

To his disconcertment, the twins burst out laughing while Galvreth smirked knowingly. He glared at them and demanded an explanation for their mirth.

Elladan snickered and said, “So you finally understand what Elrohir endured when he cared for you in your childhood!”

Legolas was abashed. “I was not all that horrid, was I?” he anxiously asked his mate.

Elrohir grinned. “I fear you were as precocious and inquisitive as they. But,” he swiftly added when Legolas scowled, “I never thought you horrid even when you rendered me speechless from some of your more confounding pronouncements.”

Legolas stared at him. “Such as?”

“Such as when you asked me whether I preferred ellyn egor ellith”-male Elves or Elf-maids-Elrohir chuckled. “Then declared you would be a warrior when you grew up as soon as you discovered that I favored them.”

Legolas could only mumble an embarrassed “Oh” as he remembered that long ago conversation.

“And do you recall when you chided Elrohir for letting Gildor Inglorion feed him?” Elladan teased. “And not content with that, you bestowed a veritable glower on poor Gildor and he all unknowing of the reason for your ire.”

Legolas huffed. “Gildor should have known better than to act as he did. He knew Elrohir was my betrothed. My being a mere Elfling did not make our troth any less binding!”

Galvreth regarded his brother with amusement. “No wonder Gildor is always wary in your presence,” he remarked. “To have been skewered by a child's jealous stare must have been daunting to say the least. He probably fears to be speared by worse should he so much as lay a doting gaze on Elrohir.”

“Nor is Gildor alone in such caution,” Elladan added. “I laud you, brother,” he said to his twin. “In your place, I should have long gone mad from an excess of our estimable archer's possessiveness.”

Legolas began to bristle at the pointed gibes. But before he could give voice to his umbrage, Elrohir pulled him into a tight hug and kissed him with a lustiness the archer heartily approved of.

Pulling back to gaze at his now pleased spouse, Elrohir smilingly said, “'Twas a joy to watch you grow up and have a hand in it. I regret not one moment of those golden years, least of all the blossoming of your love for me however manner you chose to express it.”

Much mollified, Legolas smirked and languidly settled in Elrohir's embrace. “Mayhap your part in my rearing was meant to assuage any yearning you might have harbored for fatherhood,” he hazarded with a grin.

Elladan laughed. “More likely 'twas to discourage any desire for it!”

Legolas snorted then curiously looked at Elrohir. “You do not regret that you will never be a father, do you?” he asked with just a touch of disquiet.

Elrohir fondly gazed at him. “Do you?”

“Nay.”

“Then why do you worry that I do?” He held the archer more closely. “Between siring children and having my heart's desire, there is no contest. I am content to help in the raising of the get of others. But 'tis with you that I find my greatest joy and I look forward to eternity for I have you to spend it with, melethen.”-my love. He pressed his lips to Legolas' forehead. “I think the same can be said of every child of Eru bound in true love,” he murmured.

Legolas' happy sigh was enough reassurance that he had adequately salved the archer's apprehensions.

**********

In 2043 Eärnur finally took the throne. But in just seven years the headstrong Man permitted an old foe to goad him into deadly folly. The Witch-king had resurfaced in Gondor and now ruled Minas Morgul. Issuing a challenge to the proud and impetuous monarch, he cannily alluded to Eärnur's personal shame of many years back when he had been unable to face the Witch-king in combat. Eärnur rashly accepted the challege, rode forth with a few knights to his enemy's domain and was never seen or heard from again.

Elrond was sorrowful when he heard the news for he still counted Eärnur as kin however distant. But he was not surprised. Refusing to dwell on the what-might-have-beens had the late king proved more sage and cautious, he sent his sons to observe the Man who would now rule the south-kingdom in fact if not in name. Winning the right by default, Mardil thus became the first Ruling Steward of Gondor.

The cruel irony of it all was not lost on any who gave deep thought to the circumstances. The greatest kingdom of Men in Middle-earth was now without a king whereas in the North the line of the greatest kings of Men was without a kingdom. Fate seemed to have colluded with the enemy to bring about this lamentable state of affairs. But fortunately, Mardil was neither as impulsive nor lacking in rational thought as the king he had served and Elladan and Elrohir returned after a two-year in Gondor with the report that the kingdom was presently in capable hands.

By 2060, the Wise noted the precipitate waxing of Dol Guldur's power beyond any they had yet seen in previous years. They began to suspect that the Necromancer and Sauron were one and the same. But they had no evidence of this. And none could assail that dark stronghold for a malign power protected it even from the Elves' strength. Until three years later when Mithrandir did dare the previously improbable and sought to confront the Necromancer in his very fortress. Mayhap his strength was not yet enough to keep the Wizard at bay. Certainly, the Necromancer must have recognized power akin to his in the deceptively frail old man whose name had come to be one of the most abhorred amongst the practitioners of evil.

In any case, the Necromancer whoever he truly was did not sally forth to meet Mithrandir in open confrontation but retreated before the Istar's valiant charge. Where he disappeared to no one could tell for certain but it was said that he fled to the east to build his power and no doubt bolster his courage to face such valor as Mithrandir had displayed.

Whatever the truth of it, with his poisonous influence gone for a spell, the great forest began to recover a bit. The green growth that had given Eryn Galen its original name made a slight comeback and the strange and fell beasts that had come to inhabit it gave way for a while to the birds and animals that had first made the great wood their habitat. Not surprisingly the Elves of Northern Mirkwood and Lothlórien welcomed the respite from their never abating vigilance against the enemy's encroachment on their respective borders. This period of relative quiet would last for nigh four hundred years.

The Watchful Peace had begun.

**********

Mirkwood. T.A. 2100

No matter the ramifications of the events in the world beyond his kingdom, Thranduil did not permit them to impinge on his family's time together. After enduring its sundering for so many centuries, the Elven-king was not about to allow another such parting to occur. Thus, even when duty weighed heavily on them all, each and every member of the royal family hearkened to the newly established tradition of spending an evening together after the last meal at least once a week. More if that was possible.

Tonight, they had gathered on the rooftop deck that had been the late queen's favored place to sooth her heart and spirit. With the return of some of Mirkwood's green growth, it was once more a charming locale for meeting one another.

Thranduil sat on the divan, dandling his latest grandchild on his knee. The tiny Elf had his father's eyes and bronze locks and bid to be as sturdy of build as well. But his nose and mouth were akin to Gilthalion's for, after all, the captain was the child's uncle, brother to the Elf-maid who had captured Nimaras' heart a decade after the prince's return from exile.

We seem to have a taste for Elves who are kin to each other, Thranduil considered with humor. How else to explain two of his sons' bindings to Elrond's twins? Or the fact that Elivorn's lady was sister to the mate of the brother of Lalorn's wife. And now here was Nimaras wooing and wedding Gilthalion's youngest sister. Had Haldoron lived, would he have wed one of his brothers' kin-by-marriage as well?

He looked up when Legolas and Elrohir appeared followed by Elladan and Galvreth. His smile widened when his youngest son and the Elf-knight joined Nimaras and his wife by the balustrade on the western side of the deck. That wound in the family had completely healed and the king thought that, were it not for his forebodings regarding now empty but still menacing Dol Guldur, life would be just perfect.

Elladan was taken aside by Aelluin and Gilthalion to discuss some matter or other. Thranduil noted Galvreth's slightly pensive mien as he regarded his spouse and the king motioned to his fourth-born son to join him for a while.

Settling on the divan beside his sire, Galvreth grinned as his nephew gurgled in glee when Thranduil bounced him on his knee. “He will be as dauntless as Nimaras in the field I wager,” he remarked, reaching over to tickle the babe's round chin. A delighted snortle was his reward. He looked curiously at his father. “Why did you call me over, Ada?”-Papa.

“Aside from my desire for your company?” Thranduil archly chided. “But verily I saw your face just now and your expression made me wonder if there is anything amiss between you and Elladan.”

Galvreth stared at him in surprise. “Nay, all is right between us,” he averred. “I am as happy as can be and could wish for nothing more.”

“Except?” Thranduil prodded.

Galvreth pursed his lips. “You know us much too well, Papa,” he mildly grumbled. He leaned back and sighed. “Of late, I have felt a yearning for the way it used to be between us.” He glanced a little diffidently at his father. “How we… coupled… when I was still whole.”

Thranduil frowned. “Has Elladan given you reason to believe that he thinks you less than sufficient to his needs?”

Galvreth shook his head. “Elladan has been the soul of patience. He has never made me feel as if I were lacking in any way. Truly, I wonder at his forbearance. Nay, Father, this yearning is mine alone and not of his making.”

“That you do long for this seems to be a sign that you are finally mending in full,” the king mused. “Have you spoken to Elladan about this?”

“Not yet. I do not wish to get his hopes up when I am still unsure.” Galvreth hesitated then added, “I only pray that he will not tire of waiting for that day when I can give myself to him once more. I know he would never leave me or betray our vows but there are other ways to express displeasure or frustration in a marriage.”

“Ah, then he has displayed a longing for your play of old,” Thranduil commented. “But that is very natural,” he pointed out when Galvreth would have jumped to his mate's defense. “I would own myself surprised were you to deny it.” He paused then asked, “Why do you worry about his forbearance? Surely he has not asked you to yield when you are still unready.”

“He has never pressured me, of that I assure you, Papa,” Galvreth earnestly replied. “But I do see his yearning many a time. I cannot pretend that he does not envy his brother particularly when it is clear that Elrohir has, well… that is, when he has…” He stopped in some embarrassment.

Thranduil snorted and finished the sentence for him. “When he has ridden your brother well and long. You need not be shy with me, Galvreth. 'Tis not as if I cannot tell why Legolas' gait some morns is stiffer than usual!”

Galvreth blushed, still discomfited despite the passage of centuries by the prospect of discussing so intimate a matter with his father. At length, he murmured, “I hope the day will not be too far off when I can bear to be ridden again. I want to please him, as he has pleased me all these years.”

Thranduil smiled. “I think you please him very well,” he said. “I can tell when you have loved through the night just from the radiance of his countenance come the following day.” He chuckled as color stained Galvreth's face anew. “I dare say that is not the mark of a discontented lover!” His eyes softened and he affectionately ran his knuckles down his son's rosy cheek. “Elladan swore himself to you in love even when there was no surety that you would ever recover your wholeness, Galvreth. I think you can trust him to have meant his word and to keep it come what may.”

The babe on his lap fussed just then and he turned his attention to his grandson. But he was gratified to see peace return to Galvreth's eyes ere his argent-haired son rose to rejoin his Peredhel spouse.

**********

The Watchful Peace came to an end in the two thousand four hundred sixtieth year of the Third Age. The Necromancer returned from his enforced hibernation in the east and inhabited the fortress of Dol Guldur once more stronger than ever. The great forest was again infected with the miasma that seeped from that black stronghold's very foundations and the unholy darkness returned.

Within three years, the White Council was formed to discern, organize and coordinate the defense against the Necromancer's machinations. Counted amongst its members were the wisest of the Elves, sage and steadfast Mithrandir and cunning Curunir, he who was called Saruman the White in the Common Tongue.

In the decades that followed, tragedy and misfortune continued to befall Middle-earth's allied realms. Gondor saw the utter ruin of once beauteous Osgiliath and orcs infested the mountains in greater numbers than ever before. The formerly fabled Dwarrowdelf was now a place of mystery and utter terror as the Necromancer let loose his creatures within its once grand halls and lengthy byways.

Meanwhile, the Elves of Mirkwood and Lothlórien braced themselves for the renewal of hostilities against their respective realms by the Necromancer's foul minions, which came soon enough. Yet unexpectedly it would be against hallowed Imladris that the most horrific transgression would take place just forty-nine years thence.

With their attention centered on events of seeming greater import, none of the Wise realized that the most terrible of perils had come to rest in the very deeps of the Misty Mountains. Held for the present in the clutches of a wretched creature that had once called itself a Hobbit.

To be continued…
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- 36
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness