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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.

Chapter List
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Chapter III

The golden-haired sprite darted down the corridors, peeking around corners and into sundry chambers. Each time, his eyes would light up hopefully only to dim with frustration. The object of his search was nowhere to be found. Sighing at last with disappointment, he slowly made his way back to his room.

As he made the turn in the corridor leading to the family quarters, he came up short. There was his quarry, coming down the hallway from the opposite direction, bow and quiver in hand. He could not quite stifle his indrawn breath of anticipation. The sound though soft was enough to snare the other's attention. The darkling Elf looked up and smiled upon seeing the child.

“Good morning, Legolas,” he called out.

Thranduil's last-born smiled shyly and approached Elrohir. Until the advent of the Peredhil in Eryn Galen, he had never known such a surfeit of contentment and fun outside of his father's company. And it was all due to the deceptively gentle Elf-knight who perceived the little Elf's hapless straits from the very start and set himself to making things a little easier for him. In the weeks since his arrival, the Elfling had known such blissful respite from his brothers' thoughtless goading that he dreaded the day the Elves from Rivendell would depart.

“Good morning, Elrohir,” he replied in his high, piping voice.

“Where are you headed, little one?” Elrohir asked.

Legolas beamed, his hero-worship of the younger twin clearly visible in his blue eyes. “I was looking for you,” he admitted.

“Ah, I was at the archery yard with Haldoron,” Elrohir explained. “Why were you looking for me?”

“I made something for you,” Legolas said, taking the twin by the hand and leading him to his bedchamber.

They came to the Elfling's room and Legolas excitedly pushed the door open. Only to stop with shock and stare in dismay at what lay before them.

Elrohir entered the sitting room, a frown marring his handsome face. On a low table against the far wall, a small painting reposed. Rivendell had been painstakingly captured on canvas, clad in the brightest of colors, the details gleaned from varied descriptions heard regarding the hidden vale.

It was not an accomplished piece by any means. Indeed, it was unquestionably a child's unpolished endeavor. But it had been patiently and laboriously rendered and that imbued the painting with a sterling quality that could not possibly be equaled by even the most renowned of artists. Not unless said artists could match the innate innocence and trusting nature a child possessed.

But someone had marred the little Elf's labor of love. Some cruel soul had taken a brush, dipped it in black and brown paint and spattered the dark pigments onto the colorful image. Dark streaks cut across the vivid blue of the Bruinen, muddy spots dappled the verdant hills that surrounded the vale and the Last Homely House was barely visible from behind an indeterminately hued smear.

Elrohir scowled then glanced down at the tiny face of his companion. The blue eyes were swimming, the small mouth trembling. Humiliation was written all over the child's crestfallen countenance.

“It wasn't like that when I left it,” Legolas said, voice small with shame.

A snicker from the doorway caught their attention. A glance revealed Nimaras and Lalorn.

Why does this not surprise me, Elrohir thought. Nimaras' resentment of Legolas had grown exponentially with every extra moment Elrohir had spent with the Elfling. The fifth royal son had openly lusted after the Elf-knight almost from the start; even more so than Aelluin who was no laggard in seeking what he desired. But Elrohir had dallied with neither; indeed had dallied with no one or at least none that the princes had been able to discover. The only thing they were sure of was that Legolas had reaped the lion's share of the younger twin's company thus far. Aelluin and Nimaras' initial incredulity had swiftly evolved into annoyance. But at least the worst Aelluin had done was ignore Legolas more than ever, sometimes to the point of rudeness. Nimaras, however, baited his youngest brother as oft as he could get away with it, taking pleasure in reducing his unexpected rival to tears whenever possible. And Lalorn, always jealous of the child who had supplanted him as the family's youngest and therefore most doted on by their father, was his frequent willing accomplice.

Legolas flinched visibly at their mirth. His shoulders slumped and he bowed his head in a vain attempt to hide the tears that spilled down his pale cheeks.

Elrohir's grey eyes turned icy. The murderous glare he laid on the princes silenced their laughter. They looked back at him uncertainly. His eyes promising retribution upon the mean-spirited Elves, Elrohir knelt before the quivering child. Only then did he wrench his irate stare from the two and focused it more gently on Legolas.

“Of course it isn't how you left it,” he crooned, his voice carrying to the listening miscreants. “Only witless dolts could have done this. 'Tis your misfortune that you had to be born into their dubious company.”

Again, he glared at the two at the door. No longer smug or mirthful, they slunk away. Elrohir turned his attention back to the little Elf.

“Come, we can still remedy this,” he said.

“Can we?” Legolas whispered, a trace of hope in his limpid eyes.

“Aye, we can. Elladan and I have helped Adar restore many an ancient painting. I see no reason why we cannot repair the damage to your splendid piece.”

“Is it splendid?” Legolas asked, his face noticeably brighter.

“Oh, absolutely!” Elrohir grinned. “'Tis a veritable work of art.” He reached for a bottle of turpentine and a rag.

Legolas raptly watched as the Elf-knight carefully wiped away the offending streaks and smears. Slowly but surely, the bright colors re-emerged. Several minutes later, Elrohir straightened and smilingly presented the cleaned up painting to the princeling. The child's expression was all the reward he could desire.

Legolas launched himself at his legs, hugging them tightly while looking up at the twin with the sweetest, most grateful smile Elrohir had ever seen. But a moment later, his expression clouded over. He looked at the Elf-knight doubtfully.

“'Tis my going-away present to you,” he said. “But I do not know if it's good enough for you.”

Elrohir chuckled. “Of course, it's good enough,” he countered. “Indeed, 'tis better than good enough. I shall hang it in my bedroom in Rivendell.”

“Truly?”

“On my honor.”

Legolas would have hugged his legs again but Elrohir laughingly scooped him up in his arms instead. Whereupon the Elfling buried his small face in the twin's shoulder and curled his slender arms tightly around his neck. And when he lifted his golden head and gazed happily at Elrohir, adoration all but blazed in his crystalline eyes.

“I will miss you,” he honestly said.

Elrohir smiled and tweaked his pert nose lightly. “Then come and visit me in Rivendell, little one,” he teased.

Legolas caught his breath at the suggestion. “I will go to Rivendell,” he promised gleefully. “Will you wait for me, Elrohir?”

“I will wait for you,” Elrohir solemnly swore.

Eyeing the happy child in his arms, the younger twin thought back to the conversation he'd had with his parents some weeks back - the day after he and Elladan had given Legolas his first swimming lessons. It was a conversation that had nearly left him speechless with disbelief and consternation.

They had called the brethren to their spacious bedchamber, citing the importance of the topic they wished to discuss with their sons as enough reason for the twins to forego a riding to Eryn Galen's northern fences with Thranduil's three older sons. But of all the possible things he imagined they might wish to speak of to him, this had never even remotely crossed his mind. At his side, Elladan also fell silent and stared at Elrond and Celebrían, his brow furrowed in shock and confusion.

“You would betroth me to a child?” Elrohir finally managed to choke out. “What mad whim is this?”

“No whim at all, Elrohir,” Elrond evenly replied. “Else would we have given you all these reasons for it? We would not even have had any to lay before you had this been but an impulse on our part.”

“Thranduil is concerned for Legolas' well-being,” Celebrían added. “He did not lightly broach the suggestion to us.”

“But still,” Elladan protested, “to affiance Elrohir to such a youngling and afore his own first century mark!” He looked at his parents somewhat reproachfully. “You have oft said that you believed it best for us to wait as you did ere choosing the ones we would bind ourselves to.”

Elrond nodded in agreement. “But Elrohir will not be forced to bind to Legolas when the prince comes of age. Thranduil has made it clear that either may break this troth should it not suit them to wed. 'Tis the years while Legolas matures and learns the ways of his people that Thranduil desires to guard.”

“And what of Elrohir's desires?” Elladan inquired.

The emphasis on the last word was not lost on any of them. The twins were of age and already exploring the ways and means by which their needs could be met. They were not profligate libertines by any means but neither had they been chaste since their majorities. They were young with lusty appetites and had not hesitated to gratify themselves as each situation warranted. Other Elves of a more conservative bent might frown upon Elrond and Celebrían's leniency with their sons where the pleasures of the flesh were concerned. But the couple firmly believed in the proverbial sowing of wild oats ere one settled down into matrimony. After all, for Elves that meant an eternity with one and only one mate.

Elrond regarded them for a spell before speaking once more. It was a valid point. The vows of betrothed Elves included fidelity of the body - an affianced Edhel did not couple with any other than his or her intended. Then again, a typical betrothal transpired between Elves of the age of consent and that was enough to take care of any carnal needs either party might need to assuage. But not in this situation where one of the principals was considered criminally young by all the elven races, even the primal Silvan Elves.

“I am certain Thranduil will waive the constraint placed upon you with regards to the oath of fidelity,” he said at length.

Elrohir raised an indignant eyebrow. “Yet it would be demanded of Legolas to keep his,” he objected. He shook his head adamantly. “I will not take upon myself an oath only to renege on it.”

“But for a betrothal to be valid, you will be required to utter that oath,” Celebrían reminded him.

“Then I will remain chaste should I enter into this contract,” Elrohir decided. “I cannot in all honor be two-faced about it.” He paused then softly said, “Legolas would not be pleased were he to discover that I had shared myself with others after promising myself to him. He would want me for himself alone.”

“How do you know that?” Elladan asked in surprise.

“I - I just know,” Elrohir hesitantly replied.

He looked down at his hands. Hands that in the course of this visit had held and instructed and bestowed affection on a trusting, worshipful Elfling who bristled with so much incipient love and passion. Couple these with his deep need to belong to someone and consequently own that someone in turn and the Elf-knight intuitively sensed that when a come-of-age Legolas possessed someone or something, he would not suffer gladly any attempt to take that possession from him.

He understood then that this was what Thranduil most feared would bring his son to grief. That he could be broken by any number of refusals by others to be his alone after having known his favors. Because Legolas would equate the sharing of his body with the yielding of his heart. It was in the littlest prince's nature. As Elrohir had said, he did not know how he knew this; he simply and instinctively did.

And Legolas' brothers would not aid him in navigating the treacherous waters of carnal relations. At least not until it might be too late to protect him from the first undesirable incursions on his innocence. Their envy went deep and would keep them from being allies when Legolas would need their help most.

Well, mayhap Galvreth would come around eventually, Elrohir amended. The silver-haired prince had been just a shade more amiable with Legolas of late. Elrohir wondered if his obvious infatuation with Elladan had anything to do with it. Though sometimes it also seemed that Galvreth's mild antipathy toward Legolas was more out of habit than anything else. That seemed to be the case with Elivorn as well and perhaps even Aelluin.

The twins had discussed the possibility that what had started out as mere indifference in some had been fanned through the years by the rest into active dislike. But the roots of each and every prince's lack of affection for their youngest mattered little. What did matter was that they had precious little goodwill toward Legolas and it was highly unlikely that the Elfling would find a champion amongst his siblings in the foreseeable years to come.

He'd had to find his present champion in a stranger from a strange land. In Elrohir. The thought made the Elf-knight's throat ache with sadness for his tiny friend.

“I wish to think on this a while longer,” he abruptly announced.

His parents blinked, taken aback by the swiftness of his acquiescence to at least consider the matter. They had prepared themselves for a lengthy battle or even an outright rejection. But they collected themselves swiftly enough.

“But of course, iônen”-my son-Elrond said. “Take as much time as you need. This is too portentous a decision to make without due consideration.”

Elladan looked at his twin curiously. “Beware, tôr neth”-younger brother-he cautioned. “'Tis forever we speak of should you lose your heart to him.”

Elrohir shrugged. “That would not be a bad thing. The problem would be if he were not to lose his to me.”

The Elf-knight came out of his musings with a start when a small, warm palm cupped his cheek. He looked into Legolas' anxious eyes.

“Is something wrong?” the Elfling asked worriedly. “You were frowning so fiercely.”

Elrohir softly chuckled. “Nay, there is nothing wrong, cunneth.”-princeling. “I was only deep in thought.”

“That goes without saying,” Legolas gravely remarked.

Elrohir started at that simple piece of childish sagacity. Suddenly, he knew he had to make his decision without further delay. It would not wait until he returned home and perhaps lost his nerve from too much deliberation. Sometimes it was best to meet a situation head on and go with one's instincts in the managing of it.

He walked to the hearthside chair where Legolas' night-nurse Moriel oft settled herself with a good book while waiting for her charge to fall asleep. He sank down into it and sat the Elfling on his lap.

After a moment's pause, he said: “Legolas, do you know what a betrothal is?”

The Elf-prince looked at him in surprise then nodded hesitantly. “Moriel is promised to one of Father's warriors,” he replied. “She will marry him next spring. Is that what you mean?”

Elrohir said: “Aye, that is what I mean.”

Legolas looked at him curiously. “Why did you ask?”

The younger twin sighed, wondering just how to introduce the subject matter to his young friend. And then he decided the best way would be to be direct about it. Legolas was after all a bright child who did not need excessive elucidation.

“I have been asked to betroth myself,” he explained. “To you.”

Legolas gaped at him. “To me?” His eyes widened even further when Elrohir nodded in assent. “You would be promised to me?”

“As you would be to me. Do you understand what that entails?”

Elrohir closely watched his little companion. He knew Legolas could not yet possibly comprehend all the ramifications of such a contract. But he wanted to see if he could at least grasp the concepts of faithfulness and vow keeping. After all, the betrothal would be for naught if Legolas could be swayed by blandishments regardless of the oaths he and Elrohir would have to make.

Legolas screwed his small face up in concentration. “Would that mean that we would belong to each other only?” he assayed. “The way my Ada a Nana”-Papa and Mama-“did?”

Elrohir had to smile at the insightful reference. “More so should we bind. Aye, that is exactly what it means,” he agreed. “What think you of the idea, Legolas?”

The Elfling stared at him in astonishment. It was a novel experience for him that his opinion of so serious a matter should be sought. But then Elrohir never treated him with aught but respect. He did not talk down to Legolas as if he were a dim-witted child but spoke to him as an equal albeit adapting what he uttered for a child's level of understanding. Legolas judged that it would be a very good thing to belong to someone who regarded him with such appreciation and esteem.

He looked brightly at Elrohir and, with a brilliant grin, declared: “I think 'tis a grand idea!”

Elrohir caught his breath at the Elfling's display of enthusiasm. Well, he had asked for Legolas' opinion; he had certainly gotten it. He let his breath out slowly, not having been aware that he had held it. Nodding, he rose, lifting Legolas in one arm and tucking the painting under the other.

“Very well, lass dithen”-little leaf. “Let us go and inform our edair that we are agreed on this.”

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

Glossary:

adar (pl. edair) - father

Edhel - Elf

To be continued…
- 3
- 4
- 5
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness