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Legolas and the Balrog	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6325 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Legolas and the Balrog
A Little Legolas story

By erobey, robey61@yahoo.com
Beta'd by Sarah AK
www.feud.shadowess.com

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The settings and most characters were created by JRR Tolkien. Only the words and other characters surrounding them here belong to erobey.

VIII. …And This is What They Said

Sharing a wary look and checking to make sure their robes were discreetly closed Cugu and Toloth inched forward. Everything was so quiet they could hear the soft hissing from the burning lamps high above their heads, punctuated every now and then by an indistinct word or two floating on the air. As the pair progressed, they found themselves slinking closer and closer to the finely decorated wall until they were nearly scraping against it, hoping to avoid discovery. It was not so much that they feared to be accused of intruding on private quarters as wanting to know whom they would be facing should they be caught out.

Losing one's bearings was an embarrassment not normally endured by an adult elf trained in tracking and hunting. And the Noldor had been subjected to more than enough humiliating events lately. It was really quite a lot of pressure to serve as representatives for the entire Realm of Imladris, and the soldiers truly had no wish to make their lands and people seem foolish or uncouth.

They were both grateful that, judging by the timbre of the combined voices, the speakers did not include Erestor. The noble elda was not in the vicinity to behold their dilemma and tender over that icy stare, a frigid promise to deliver a stinging reprimand as soon as time permitted. And Erestor never, ever forgot a single infraction.

Plus, Glorfindel was his friend and confidante and would receive a full report of the couples' deportment during the expedition. If The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower deemed their behaviour less than fitting, he would no doubt relegate them to some tedious and detestable chore usually reserved for novice warriors just entering the ranks. Cugu and Toloth would be quite happy for their superiors to remain uninformed of the morning's minor incidents.

Besides, this was the sort of debacle that ended up bandied about in the Hall of Fire after half a bottle or so of Elrond's Famous Blueberry Wine had been consumed. If Erestor learned of their slip-up, he could hold the knowledge hostage, demanding their silence regarding his loss of temper in the rain in exchange for his discretion. The veteran fighters, however, were not willing to relinquish the advantage so easily, for it was too great a coup. To their memories, no one had ever, not even once, had a tale to tell that humbled Lord Erestor, the always proper, perfect, pristine example of everything a well-bred Noldo should be. The couple would be instantly famous.

And every time the barometer dropped Erestor would be subjected to ribbing and roasting and would no doubt accumulate an impressive collection of umbrellas over the centuries to come.

The visitors crept closer and presently their sneaking brought them near enough to comprehend specific words. The voices were definitely feminine but the meaning of the discussion was ambiguous, though spoken in recognisable Sindarin. Toloth and Cugu spied an arched opening to their right, definitely the location of the muted music of female speech they had detected. They halted just before the break in the passage wall and listened intently, leaning forward as much as they dared without risking being seen.

"Naud. (Bound (aka Chow))"

"Tsk! Nae! (Alas!)"

"Tadui (Second) is trying for Mîr Dhelin. (Hidden Jewels)"

"Tang! (Bowstring (aka Pung!))"

"Ai! Nestegi! (F—!)"

The Noldor peered at one another in shocked bewilderment for the voice expressing that last expletive had sounded much like the elegant silver Queen's. The couple edged to the open door and peeked inside. There the four wives were seated at an ornately carved cedar wood table upon which a strange array of small rectangular bone tiles was set. It looked almost like a sort of staged battle with the various opponents' 'troops' advancing upon a broken city wall, within which a host of up-facing tiles lay scattered.

Each of the females avidly watched the exchange of pieces as some were selected from the walls and others discarded from each one's collection of tiles. In front of the players' ranks, matched sets of the tokens in groups of three or four were laid face up, revealing tiny multi-coloured pictures and symbols. The ladies' hands moved so rapidly it was somewhat difficult to tell who had the advantage and the tense expressions on their faces declared the match to be close. What the stakes were the warriors could little fathom other than to assume this might be more than a friendly parlour game. So engrossed in the game were the ellyth that they did not notice the Noldor gaping at them from the hallway.

"Toss. (Blackthorn (aka Kong))"

"Cai Fileg! (Hedge Bird (aka Mah Jong!))" Corchrîn suddenly and jubilantly announced, laying down all her tiles in nice neat groups. "Canad Galu Veleg (Four Great Blessings)," she added smugly as the other three sighed and groaned. "And I am Rhûn Gwaew (East Wind) today thus my points double!"

"Do not become haughty, Canthui (Fourth); this is but the first match. There are many more rounds to go," admonished Huneb'ell.

"Of course, Nelui (Third)," answered the youngest queen, respectfully bowing her head.

With the hand finished the ladies proceeded to tally up their scores and Ithilloth laid all the tiles face down, except the ones she had held, and began mixing them around on the surface of the table.

The chamber in which they were seated was a red room.

It was a rather opulent parlour, decorated in rich plush fabrics artfully embroidered in gold thread, which covered well-stuffed and comfortable looking sofas, chaises, and armchairs. The side tables scattered among these seating options were reduced versions of the main one upon which the wives competed. The walls were completely covered in draperies and tapestries such that not a centimetre of stone was visible, save one. That wall was lined with weapons and shields and the Noldor had no doubt these belonged to the ellyth within. Likewise the floor was thickly carpeted, and only directly beneath the hearth was any rock uncovered.

The huge, wrought iron, footed grate occupied the centre of the cavern. This was formed in the shape of a cedar tree with the roots serving as the feet and firebox while the long trunk supplied a chimney that disappeared through the ceiling of the spacious cavern. From the artfully cast branches, lanterns hung at various levels spilling a diffuse illumination that was concentrated near the centre where the table was situated. A fire blazed brightly in the stove, orange flames flickering through the gnarled design of the cedar's roots. It was a strange image, a tree clasping dancing tongues of deadly heat in its toes.

Obviously a chamber specific to the wives, soft, inviting, sumptuous and designed for ease, there was yet an atmosphere of forbidding power about the space that rather gave the warriors a chill. It was undoubtedly the conjunction of comfort and conflict, of green life harbouring fire that generated the uneasiness collecting in their hearts. It took them but a moment to assimilate the lessons within these incongruous details. The apartment was an overt display of the females' dual abilities to both create and destroy life.

Cugu shook his head, recalling Sîrgell's words from the previous day. Wood, fire, and light; weapons in a parlour where ladies reside playing games. It is safety and comfort through vigilance. Life, death, and immortality, all three within their hands! He shivered.

Ithilloth caught the slight movement in her peripheral vision as Toloth shifted back from the portal to better see what ailed his mate. At once she excused herself and moved to the passageway to join them.

"Mellynen (my friends), how may I help you?" she gave them a cursory appraisal and smiled, hands entwining before her waist serenely. "I believe you may have missed the corridor to the rear stairway and the bathing pools."

"Please do not leave your game on our account, noble Lady," implored Cugu as he bowed, shamed to be discovered unshod and wearing his robe but little more. These elves will soon come to think the Noldor never dress appropriately! When he righted himself he noticed that the other wives' attention was also fixed upon him and his mate, bemused curiosity apparent on their comely features. It took great strength of will not to give in to the urge to turn and bolt.

"Nay, I have lost the round and must be excluded from the next match. It is our own variation on the rules of play for this type of contest. It is of no concern; I am the victor often enough and must return to the Council Chamber for my meeting with your colleague.

"But where is Sîrgell, for surely I charged him with your service?" The silver Queen lead the way back down the passage as she spoke, and both Imladrians were glad to leave the gawking regard of Thranduil's remaining spouses.

"Do not blame your son, good Queen," pleaded Toloth. "He is tending the youngest prince whilst we bath and prepare for the day. The four of us are to tour the grounds after breaking fast."

"Legolas? And where did you run upon him, if I may ask?"

The refined elleth's enchanting voice definitely became a tad sharper and the veteran soldier suddenly realised he might have unintentionally got the little one into trouble. Toloth shared a dismayed glance with Cugu.

"Ah, he was discharged from the nursery by Eirien, I believe, and came to invite us to see 'the best climbing trees, the fox burrows, and the rock pile where a boa lives'," Cugu replied in a genial air meant to divert the astute inu from further questions. "Sîrgell was with him when the invitation was tendered, of course."

"Yes. And we were so caught up in admiration and discussion of the stronghold's elegance that we became los…er…overlooked the correct door," added Toloth, intending to direct her thoughts away from the child.

Ithilloth sent them both a shrewdly calculating look through indulgent eyes that clearly communicated she was not in the least deceived, either about Legolas' appearance in their rooms or their lack of cognisance over exactly how to find the baths, but asked no more on the subjects.

"I will ask Annûnfaen to draw a map of the stronghold's layout for you," she said with wry amusement. "Here is the turning you need; the stairs are just beyond the second archway, there."

The Noldo thanked her graciously and moved forward, then stopped as Cugu turned to her again.

"Ah, noble Lady, about the diagram," he began hesitantly, for he did not wish to appear ungrateful and the schematic would truly be welcomed.

"Yes?" Ithilloth prompted.

"If it is not too impertinent to ask, would you consider keeping the reason for this gracious and utilitarian gift from our Lord's knowledge?"

Ithilloth laughed merrily and nodded as she softly clapped her hands twice with girlish glee.

"Worry not; he is unlikely to say anything about it, since I commissioned one for him earlier this morning. Galion discovered Erestor wandering forlornly in the cellars, unable to explain how his feet had carried him there and profusely insisting he was not attempting to help himself to Thranduil's prized Dorwinion!"

Cugu and Toloth's countenances mirrored the Queen's amusement and they thanked her anew, hurried away and in less than an hour had completed their ablutions.

Eagerly they headed toward the Chamber of Starlight and did not become lost this time. They found the library and entered the inviting study where the two princes were snugly settled in a tremendous brown leather upholstered chair, the hunting dog sprawled out at their feet. Both warriors were glad to see no signs of any chastisement marring the elfling's features and hoped the King's First Wife would not make additional inquiries into Legolas' presence in their suite. The child fairly exploded off his brother's lap upon sighting them and bounded over to the Imladrians.

"You were a very long time!" he complained. "Does everyone in Imladris take such lengthy baths?"

"Legolas!" Sîrgell reprimanded in mortified tones, but the warriors were smiling warmly as each gave the princling the customary soldier's arm clasp.

"Nay, Ernil Vallen (Golden Prince). We rarely have such luxury for we are often out in the wilds patrolling our Lord's lands," replied Toloth.

"So you must forgive us for indulging your Adar's magnificent hospitality a little more than most!" added Cugu. "I am hungry, Legolas, are you?"

"Aye, there is a wolf in my belly," he said and did not really see why this was so amusing to the big elves. It certainly sounded like a great beast growling to him and his stomach obliged by producing a loud complaint at that precise moment. "There!" he crowed and Dae gave a soft bark of agreement as she ambled over to flank the princeling.

"Indeed!" laughed Sîrgell, shaking his head as he joined them. "Then we had best feed the wild thing so he will go back to stealthy silence!" He leaned down and patted his baby brother's stomach affectionately and held out a hand, which Legolas took. The quintet set off, princes leading the way, Noldor right behind, and the chaser guarding their rear. Before long they were near enough to the kitchens to smell the enticingly mingled aromas of lembas baking, fruit pies cooling, and game roasting.

"Oh, my wolf is waking up now also," said Cugu, inhaling a deep lungful of the delicious scents.

"Hah! More like an unruly warg!" smirked Toloth and received a playful cuff from his mate for it.

Legolas had been watching and reacted with predictable snickers. "Are you brothers? You sort of look alike."

"Nay, we are not blood relations, Legolas," said Cugu and tried to give a surreptitious evaluation of Toloth to see if he could spot this resemblance. He found Toloth engaged in exactly the same activity and hastily returned attention to the elfling. "We have been together so long, however, that I suppose we understand each other as well or better than most brothers."

"Why do you have to share a room and bed? If you each had a chamber then neither would fall on the floor when you try to get up."

"Legolas, those are not proper questions!" hissed Sîrgell and gave a decidedly harsh tug on his irrepressible little brother's hand. "I beg forgiveness for Legolas' overactive curiosity, he does not mean to be forward," he hurriedly added with a glance at the warriors that bespoke absolute chagrin.

"Oh it is alright," assured Toloth. "We do not mind. Ask whatever you wish, Legolas."

"Aye, but after we eat!" exclaimed Cugu, cleverly distracting the child for he could tell by their host's red-eared countenance that Sîrgell was not adequately prepared to explain the situation and desperately uncomfortable over being the one who would have to do so. So much for Toloth's assumptions!

They stood on the threshold of the bustling, noisy, clamour of the cook's domain. In fascinated awe the quartet observed as elves practically ran from place to place and station to station, preparing and mixing, chopping and grinding, stirring and tasting while never once colliding with one another, knocking ingredients to the floor, or spilling anything. The Senior Chef, a tall and imposingly broad elf, spotted the group about to intrude upon the flawless precision of her kitchen and abandoned observation of a simmering stew to advance to their location.

"I will not say 'Mae Govannen' for you are certainly not!" she pointed at Sîrgell but included them all in a piercingly disapproving glare. "This is late to be breaking fast and my team is busy preparing for luncheon. And you," she focused in on the elfling, "did not eat this morning. I sent word to Eirien and she returned instructions for you to have the porridge when your stomach carried you back here."

"But I do not want it!" Legolas griped. "I want an apple and a plum cake instead." He tried the endearing gaze of limpid blue that generally ensured getting his way, but the Senior Chef just quirked an eyebrow and shook her head.

"That you can take up with Eirien. I am not about to end up in her bad graces just so you can indulge that sweet-tooth!" She transferred her attention back to the grown-ups. "Sîrgell, please escort your company to the small refectory. Whatever is left of the dawn repast has not been cleared away yet and I am sure will be satisfactory.

"You have just missed breaking fast with your Lord," she met the eyes of Cugu and Toloth. "Aran Thranduil and Hîr Erestor dined together about an hour ago. I hope you will find our offerings as pleasing as did he."

"I am certain the victuals will be delicious, judging from the fare served last night." Cugu dipped his head in a polite nod as he paid this compliment.

"Well now, those are gracious words and I thank you!" The elleth at last smiled. "Go along, then, and I will have Fêrlass bring your porridge, Legolas." She did not budge until the four elves and the hound turned back from her doorway and herded into the less formal dining area just off the kitchens.

It was a delightfully bright and airy room, situated at ground level and on the outermost bounds of the mountain's honeycombed heart. In fact, it was less a chamber than an alcove in the rock, with the whole of one side open to the kitchen gardens beyond. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the cosy interior, which was simply but prettily appointed. There were ten round tables, none of them occupied, arranged within the space. Each one was set with a bright yellow and white cloth covering, a spray of honey-suckle and morning glories, a cobalt blue earthenware pitcher of fresh, clear water, and four matching cups.

Along the wall abutting the doorway, a long table served as a buffet. Collected upon it were numerous delectable items including fresh fruit, muffins, breads and pastries, a selection of cheeses both hard and spreadable, and a hot, steaming black brew with a strong invigorating aroma that was most definitely not tea. This concoction was held in a large footed urn under which a tiny, lighted candle was burning to keep the temperature even.

There was clear golden honey in a tall glass jar, a jug of white cream in a tub of icy water, a tray upon which suitable implements for use in eating were gathered, and a stack of plates matching the brilliant colour of the pitchers and cups. A collection of large fat mugs with gracefully practical handles, so that the hot drink could be enjoyed without discomfort to the fingers, was grouped near the urn.

Sîrgell grabbed one of these and poured himself a brimming serving of the pungent liquid. Into this he dripped a liberal dollop of the sweet honey, added a quick splash of the cream, and vigorously stirred. He scarcely paused to blow a cooling breath across the shimmering inky surface before taking a sip. An expression equal parts bliss and relief spread across his features as his eyes closed and he nodded.

"Perfect," he announced happily and smiled at his guests. "Please help yourselves; the coffee is excellent this morning." He took up a plate and began piling on food, a sample of everything, including a large slice of the plum cake his little brother had so desired.

Legolas trotted disconsolately behind as Sîrgell went to the tables closest to the open view, chose one, and sat down. The two Imladrians joined them, laden with heaping plates and half-filled mugs of the strong drink. They had all just got seated comfortably when another elf, a large apron tied over his garments, entered from the kitchen and hurried over.

"Maer Aur (Good Morning)," he said though his manner indicated he neither believed nor meant the words. "Here is your porridge, Tiuw." A small dish was plunked down in front of the youngest prince. "I added extra honey and cinnamon along with the currants. You cannot refuse it this time; Eirien's orders!"

"Raven Dancer!" called Cugu merrily, for it was indeed the eldest twin. "How do you fare this day?"

Fêrlass sent him a thin smile beneath sparking black eyes and declined to respond as he verily stomped back to his assigned punishment in the kitchens.

"Your Raven brother does not seem too cheerful today," remarked Toloth with a chuckle. A deep sigh caused him to glance down at the elfling in the chair to his left. The child was listlessly stirring his porridge, brow furrowed and mouth down-turned. "Do you hate the cereal so very much, Legolas? It does not really smell bad to me." The warrior leaned down and inhaled deeply of the spicily sweet scent.

"Aye, normally you like it, Tiuw. Just start in and you will soon remember how the taste pleases you," encouraged Sîrgell. "Once you have finished I will give you half of my plum cake."

"But Sîr," the whiney contradiction began.

"Nay, no more! You have already started the day off by getting into trouble. You had best follow Eirien's instructions and eat every bite."

Legolas made another distressed exhalation. He was really very hungry but was not going to consume his porridge. I do not care what Eirien says; she did not smell it! Why can I not just have an apple? The stranger elves, he noted, had both an apple and grapes on their plates. An idea struck Thranduil's youngest then and he turned his woebegone expression complete with heart-wrenchingly, wistfully aggrieved cornflower depths upon Cugu, hoping to induce the guest into sharing.

The warrior had absolutely no defences at his command to ward off such an achingly adorable visage and at once fell under the elfling's spell.

"Oh, now it cannot be that bad! Here, I will taste it for you first and you will see how fine it is," he said enthusiastically as he took up his spoon and leaned over the child's place.

"But Cugu," Legolas' eyes had grown hugely round and a pronounced edge of warning hovered in his pitch and tone. Before he could continue, the soldier had scooped up a mounded spoonful and carried it to his lips, which willingly opened to receive the sample.

Cugu chewed twice and then his eyes bulged almost as large as the princeling's. Frantically he clapped a hand over his mouth as he looked around and then snatched the napkin from his lap.

"Cugu! What is the matter?" demanded Toloth in fright.

Everyone averted their faces as the Noldo regurgitated the offending substance and then used the end of the cloth to wipe at his tongue. He grabbed his mug and took a great swig of the coffee, which caused his eyes to water as they grew even larger while his lips puckered up rather like one would expect had he just bitten a sour lemon. Cugu hastily spewed the acrid liquid back into the mug, poured a glass of water, took a mouthful, swished that around and then spat into one of the empty cups. After that he finally took a huge breath and shuddered as he turned to Legolas.

"Pen Dithen, your nose did not lie. I am glad you did not eat that after all. Here, I think we both deserve an apple and a bit of sweet," he announced and moved the offending bowl of porridge from in front of Legolas, replacing it with the named items.

"I am sorry, Cugu. I tried to warn you, but you were very quick! I did not mean for you to eat it," said Legolas and took a tremendous bite of the apple.

"Legolas, what is going on?" demanded Sîrgell suspiciously.

"Aye, what is wrong with that gruel, Cugu?" added Toloth.

His mate was munching on the plum cake, savouring the pleasing taste, eager to remove all memory of the sour, acrid, foetid quality of the elfling's breakfast from his palate. Cugu politely refrained until he had swallowed, however, before trying to respond and the others waited impatiently, for Legolas also had a mouth too full to make explanations possible. Finally the veteran of the Last Alliance pointed to the serving of creamy white mush dotted with small, oval brown bits.

"Those," said Cugu solemnly, "are not currants!"

"What?" Toloth and Sîrgell exclaimed together and the prince grabbed the bowl, drawing it near. He sniffed and lifted his spoon, gingerly poking at the dark matter suspended in the congealing mass. Enlightenment suffused both elves' eyes, which met in consternation over the porridge before transferring to gaze in sympathy first at Cugu and then Legolas.

"Deer droppings!" announced Toloth, shaking his head in disapproval as his lips set in a rigid line.

"Nay, rabbits'," corrected Legolas as Cugu nodded confirmation.

"Fêrlass!" the eldest prince hissed as he leaped up, tipping over his chair in the process. Carrying the evidence with him, Sîrgell stormed toward the kitchen.

…continued

A/N: the elvish words used by the wives in their game are arbitrary as there are no equivalents in Sindarin. There is no mention in Tolkien's works that elves played such a game, the human equivalent of which should be obvious from the text, and thus the rules have been tampered with to suit the circumstances. Wouldn't it be lovely to have an elvish set, though?

If you are unfamiliar with Mah Jong, it is a very ancient game that originated in China, with four players using a set of tiles with which each attempts to construct a winning hand by matching suites or symbols or categories in groups of 3 or four. The rules are too complex to explain here! Besides, you have to see what it looks like to get the idea. Just type in Mah Jong to your search engine and numerous sites will show up! Beware! Mah Jong has been known to be addictive!
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Legolas and the Balrog