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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26421 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter VIII

Tuilë TA 220

The light clip clop of horse hooves along the stone-marked path heralded the arrival of the riders clad in the colors of the Woodland Realm. They rode in single file for the trail though smooth and clear of any obstructions was narrow and winding in parts.

Crossing the bridge over the rushing stream that was a tributary of the Loudwater the riders entered the main enclave of Rivendell and at last rode into the paved courtyard of the Last Homely House. It was now late afternoon and already the sun had begun its slow descent.

Of the Elves gathered to welcome the visitors - and there was a goodly number of them - two stood out because of their startling mirror likeness. One of the pair did not wait for all of the newly arrived party to come to a full stop but briskly strode to a gentle bay and stretched out his arms to its rider. Beaming brightly, Legolas flung himself into Elrohir's welcoming embrace.

“Oof, lass dithen”-little leaf-“you must have spent the entire winter at table,” the Elf-knight teased as he pretended to heft the Elfling. “I swear you are as heavy as a sack of flour.”

“I am not!” Legolas protested, torn between indignation and laughter. “I have only grown taller, Elrohir. I am not so little anymore.”

“Indeed you are not,” Elrohir agreed, settling him down on the ground and noting that the child now came up to just below his chest which said a lot about his growth. The Peredhil were very tall even by elven standards.

After they exchanged the ritual kiss of greeting, Elrohir took a good look at the young prince. They had last seen each other some four years past.

At 21 years of age, the tiny toddler he had once cuddled was no more. In his place was a nimble Elfling, his cropped hair now a shimmering fall of gold that grew halfway to his shoulders. He would soon leave childhood behind and embark on the voyage through that most turbulent rite of passage for any sentient being regardless of race or creed. Recalling his own oftentimes unruly adolescence, Elrohir could only pray that he would reasonably weather Legolas' version of that brief but bewildering stage in an Elf's life.

“Look who came with me,” Legolas excitedly said, taking Elrohir's hand and leading him to a black stallion whose rider had yet to alight. “He did not want to come but Father ordered him to.”

“Hush, Legolas, you will give our hosts the wrong impression,” Galvreth mildly chided as he dismounted. Nodding affably at Elrohir, he turned to extend his formal greetings to the lord and lady of the valley and Elladan who remained at their side.

“And what impression would we have gotten wrong?” Elladan archly inquired when the argent-haired prince had been duly welcomed.

Galvreth was seen to slightly blush under the older twin's amused regard but he gamely faced Elladan nonetheless. “That I did not wish to come here,” he explained. “Rather, Haldoron felt offended that he was not chosen and I offered to defer to his wishes. But our lord sire would not be gainsaid and thus here I am.”

“I am certain your father had good reason to choose you, ernil neth”-young prince-Elrond smiled. He glanced at a happily chattering Legolas and smiled even more widely. “And did you get any sleep during your journey here?”

The Elf-prince started, surprised by the Elvenlord's easy humor with him. But rallying, he smiled back and said: “ Not nearly enough, my lord. There was one amongst us who thought there were not enough hours in a day to finish a tale.”

Soft laughter resounded throughout the courtyard before Celebrían invited him into their home.

“You must take some rest before you join us for the evening meal.” She beckoned to her older son. “Elladan, please show Galvreth to his chamber. As for you, cunn dithen”-little prince-she addressed Legolas, the twinkle in her eyes belying the severity of her tone, “you know the way to your rooms. I dare say at your age and size, Elrohir need no longer bear you to them.” She softly chuckled as the familiar pout came into play.

“I am not that heavy, am I, Elrohir?” Legolas demanded.

The younger twin grinned and, placing a hand on his shoulder, ushered him toward the house. “I fear you are,” he admitted. “And you are so tall we would look utterly ridiculous were I to carry you as of old. You have grown much, Legolas, and swiftly, too.”

Legolas' face brightened at the tacit compliment. As they followed Elladan and Galvreth into the house, he declared: “I am glad for I will then be able to grant you the pleasure of my company soonest as you said you looked forward to.”

Elrohir did his best to ignore his parents' questioning stares while, ahead of them, Galvreth glanced back with some incredulity and Elladan snuffed a guffaw into his hand.

They came to the woodland princes' rooms without further incident or unfortunate remarks. Elrohir noted Galvreth's obvious pleasure upon seeing the proximity of his quarters to Elladan's.

So, the fourth-born prince was still enamored of his twin, Elrohir mused to himself. Well, he did not object. Indeed, if this regard of Galvreth's for Elladan was instrumental in his slowly growing amenability toward Legolas, he welcomed it. But he would not abet the gaining of his brother's concurrence. That was for Elladan to decide and Galvreth to accept whatever the outcome.

One thing though was certain. It was that willingness to change his perceptions and ill-founded convictions however gradually that had won Galvreth this sojourn in Rivendell. Thranduil would have wanted the first of his older sons to set foot in the valley realm to make a good impression and arrogant, close-minded Haldoron was definitely not the Elf to do it.

The desire to send his sons for tutelage outside of their forest kingdom had come to the Elven-king just the year before. He had realized that the isolation of his children from other elven races and their cultures would only exacerbate their insularity. All the book learning in Arda could not equal practical experience and that was what a prince of the blood needed if he was to serve his realm to the best of his abilities. Thranduil had benefited from his long exposure to the other kindreds during his years in Lindon. But his own progeny, Greenwood born and bred, were more alike to their Silvan subjects than to the Sindar from whom they were sprung.

Understandably, he did not wish to send them to the Grey Havens for fear of awakening the sea longing in their hearts over-soon. Nor did he care to have them journey to the south into the mysterious fastness of Lothlórien and by way of all the perilous miles in between. Besides, he had not reestablished diplomatic relations with either Círdan or the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood for all that Celeborn was his kinsman. Hence, the request to Elrond and Celebrían to permit his children to visit Rivendell on occasion.

Elrond had immediately responded in the affirmative for in this he saw the means to further bind their respective realms in harmony and finally leave most of the discord that had once separated them firmly in the past. And so, they had expected another prince out of Eryn Galen on this latest visit of Legolas to Imladris.

What none had expected was that Thranduil would bypass his three eldest sons and select his middle child for this first visit. But it was not an unwise or imprudent choice for Galvreth had evinced a genuine readiness to open his eyes and heart not only to his youngest brother but also to the wide world beyond Eryn Galen's borders. Aelluin and Elivorn seemed primed to follow his example - they only needed a little more prodding. But Haldoron and Nimaras were cut from the same unbending cloth and Lalorn was still too much the latter's disciple to have improved overmuch. Though of late, he seemed to be distancing himself bit by bit from his brother, not out of a deliberate desire but simply due to the inexorable effects of growing up and growing apart from each other.

Whatever the character evolutions ongoing in Greenwood's royal family, the upshot of the whole affair was that it was silver-haired Galvreth who came to Imladris with Legolas this fair spring.

He proved as eager a student as Legolas in anything and everything Rivendell had to offer him. Mornings would oft find him at the barracks or drill yard, keeping company with the soldiers and honing his mastery of the sword which he admittedly had less skill in than the bow. Afternoons he would spend with the numerous scholars and healers of the valley, fascinated by the sheer quantity of knowledge that was to be had in the library, the archive and the healing houses. Evenings were almost exclusively devoted either to the Hall of Fire or the gaming room, passed in the bosom of Lord Elrond's family. In all these, he would almost always bump into Legolas, a far more frequent occurrence than in the green wood. Indeed a far more frequent occurrence than in all the Elfling's life.

Far from the less than enlightened influence of his other brothers, perforce in close contact with his youngest, he could not help but see himself in relation to Legolas in another light. And what he saw he did not always like.

He watched Legolas one early morn as the Elfling diligently practiced his archery skills under Elrohir and Glorfindel's guidance. Watched and grudgingly acknowledged that the child could one day best all his brothers in the field; indeed, might prove the greatest archer in all Elvendom. The signs were there even at this early date as Legolas hit mark after mark with almost preternatural precision. He shook his head, wondering what the others would make of yet another ability that would either rival or surpass theirs.

“How do you judge his progress, ernilen?”-my prince?

Galvreth caught his breath and slowly turned to face a smiling Elladan. How the older twin had approached him without his awareness of it was a mystery and it unnerved him. If there was one thing he had learned these many weeks in Imladris it was to never underestimate the Peredhil. The appellation Half-elven was misleading in that it lulled one into believing they were more akin to Men than to Elves, forgetting that they were also descended from one of the Powers themselves. Indeed, they were of a different kindred altogether if one thought about it and bore much of the best and very little of the worst of the three races they were sprung from.

True, their eyesight and hearing and resistance to the elements were of a lesser degree than the Elves. But they were astonishingly strong and swift and enduring as many a brash warrior had learned to their rue. And they were endowed with foresight and wisdom of a level rare even among the Eldar. There simply was no comparing them with other Elves or Men. They were a caste unto themselves.

He endeavored to reply to the twin's query in an intelligent fashion. “He excels in this sport,” he conceded. “He might even beat Gilthalion and that is a thing I had never thought possible.”

Elladan grinned at the comparison to the formidable captain of the Woodland Realm's army. Legolas would be pleased to hear such a tribute and especially one coming from a heretofore less than doting sibling.

“He has the makings of an exemplary warrior,” Elladan agreed. “But then 'tis not surprising considering his inspiration.”

“Inspiration?” Galvreth glanced back at his brother, realizing how frequently he looked to the Elf-knight for approval. “Oh, you mean Elrohir.”

“Aye. Legolas is determined to be the best soldier he can be. And all on account of my brother's propensity for Elves of that profession. Since Elrohir favors warriors, then a warrior Legolas will be.”

The Greenwood prince stared at him. “And what did Elrohir say to that?” he asked.

Elladan chuckled. “I believe it was a shock to him at the time. But he is now quite used to it and so are we.” He smiled. “'Tis very difficult to deny Legolas anything, especially one's amity.”

Galvreth flushed. He did not know if that was a deliberate allusion to the state of affairs amongst his brothers where Legolas was concerned.

“But you no longer dislike him, do you?”

The flush grew darker and spread across Galvreth's face and down his neck. He turned as if to bolt, his eyes conveying his confusion and his discomfort. Elladan stayed him with the lightest of touches to his shoulder and he stood there silently for several moments before laying darkened eyes on the twin.

“I did not come to Imladris to be judged, Peredhel!” he snapped but with little heat.

Elladan simply looked at him evenly. “Nor did I intend for you to think that I had, Thranduilion,” he quietly said.

“Then why speak of it at all?” Galvreth demanded. “Or is it that you see me as no different from the others?”

He voice caught as he spoke and he looked away lest the older twin see what his eyes expressed all too eloquently. For the thought that Elladan did indeed believe that of him was too hard to bear without any visible evidence of his distress. Not that he had given him reason to think otherwise, the prince thought with a pang.

“Far from it,” Elladan gently demurred. “Mayhap you were careless in your dealings with him once upon a time but of late…” He tilted his head and thoughtfully regarded the fair-haired Elf. “Of late, you have been more friend than foe to him, I think. Such kindness becomes you, Galvreth, and makes you a better Elf than your brethren.”

The prince flushed once more. To be chastised and counseled by one nearly two score years his junior would have been an unacceptable affront from any other Elf and drawn a haughty rebuke forthwith. But Elladan was not any other Elf and he had bestowed a compliment on him as well; a compliment that Galvreth found all the more precious for having come from him. The prince was quite unable to return a suitable reply. At a loss, he decided not to make the attempt at all.

Still rosy from battling his rowdy emotions, he mutely nodded his acknowledgement then briskly strode back to the house. Elladan watched him go, the faintest glimmer of regret in his pewter-hued eyes.

**********

“He is beautiful. If any can rival Legolas when he comes of age, I believe 'twill be him. And I wager he would welcome it if you asked him into your bed.”

Elladan glanced at his twin with a wry expression. “Matchmaking, tôr neth?”-younger brother?-he inquired.

Elrohir grinned. “Nay, I am merely stating a fact. And voicing what you were undoubtedly thinking as you watched him.”

Elladan snorted and shook his head in mild exasperation. “There are disadvantages to knowing each other too well,” he muttered.

The Elf-knight softly chuckled. Taking only as much time needed to lay a jaundiced eye on his brother, Elladan returned to his perusal of the subject of their discussion. After dinner, Galvreth had gone out for a solitary evening stroll in the orchards beyond the gardens and was only now returning to the house. But he lingered outside, still mesmerized by the novelty of open skies and unobscured moonlight, typical of any Elf who had lived all his life in the closed fastness of Eryn Galen and seldom if ever left its confines. The twins had seen him through the garden porch entrance and now observed him from afar.

His argent hair bright in the moonlight, his sturdy form and limbs hardened and molded into cat-like sleekness by hard toil alongside his father's seasoned warriors, Galvreth was indeed quite a vision though a vision late in blooming. For it was only in the past decade or so that his beauty had come to full fruition.

The Woodland Realm's late queen had been that rarity amongst her kindred. A throwback to an ancient mating between a Telerin ancestor with Nandorin predecessors and a Noldorin foremother, she had been dark of hair and eyes. But so beautiful was she and sage and kind besides that Thranduil, will he, nill he, had fallen deeply in love with her. Despite his general dislike of all things Noldorin including their coloring, he had taken her to wife and deeply mourned her passing.

Her ethereal features and slenderness of form she had passed on to Legolas, her coloring to Elivorn. But one could see her in her other sons as well. In Lalorn's golden brown locks and Aelluin's dark lashes and slender nose, Haldoron's proud jaw and Nimaras' sculptured cheekbones. But to Galvreth she had bequeathed her exotic dark brown, nearly almond-shaped eyes and they were a most striking feature in so fair haired and fair skinned an Elf.

“I spoke to him this morn,” Elladan said. “About how he once behaved toward Legolas.”

“And?”

“I almost regretted it afterward,” Elladan replied. He glanced at his brother. “It embarrassed him that 'twas I who broached the subject. It pained him.”

“And that surprised you?”

The older twin shook his head. “Nay, I was not surprised. I am well aware of his feelings for me. What was unexpected were my feelings when I saw him flinch at my words.”

“Tell me.”

“I did not wish to see him thusly.” Elladan frowned. “It - disturbed me.”

Elrohir looked closely at him. Once more Elladan's eyes were riveted on the silver-haired Elf.

“I wish to befriend him, not tumble him,” the older twin finally admitted. “At least, that is what I desire for now. I would discover his heart and mind first before knowing his body.”

“Which you never troubled to discover afore with others,” Elrohir pointed out. “Methinks you are as smitten as he, brother.”

Elladan pursed his lips. “I cannot say yea or nay to that,” he said. “For in truth I do not know if I am. Or if I wish to be.” At Elrohir's questioning gaze, he explained, “You know I still have misgivings about your betrothal, Elrohir, or rather that it was imposed on you so soon. Yet you seem content enough with your lot and mayhap that is not unexpected given how fair Legolas will be when he comes of age. But I do not desire to be tied down likewise this early. I wish to live my life unencumbered as you cannot.”

The Elf-knight considered his words thoughtfully. At length, he murmured: “Are his attractions so great that you fear giving your heart the moment you gain his body?”

Elladan sighed deeply. “I take back what I said. The advantages of knowing each other so well far outweigh the disadvantages.”

Elrohir shrugged and wanly smiled. “Were I in your place, I would likely follow the same course. 'Tis a wise precaution, Elladan, and one I believe you are right in taking. But if you would let me counsel you, 'tis that you do not wait overlong or you may finally reach for what you desire only to find that it is there no more.”

Elladan considered his brother's advice then simply nodded in acceptance of it.

“Elrohir?”

The brethren grinned at each other. Turning they espied Legolas peeking out at them from just inside the door. He was freshly bathed and clad in a white sleeping shirt and trousers.

The Elf-knight took leave of his brother and went to the prince. “And what shall it be tonight, lass dithen?” he asked. “A story or a song?”

Legolas beamed. “A song, Elrohir,” he said. “The one your mother used to sing to you. 'Tis my favorite.”

“Is it now?” Elrohir said softly. “Come then, and I shall sing the whole of it for your pleasure.”

Minutes later in Legolas' bedchamber, as he tucked him into his bed, he studied the young face curiously.

“Legolas? How have you fared with your brothers since our last meeting?” he inquired.

The Elfling looked at him with some surprise but answered nonetheless. “As I always have,” he answered.

“Do Nimaras and Lalorn still plague you then?” Elrohir asked with a touch of ire.

“They try,” Legolas cheerfully replied. “But Nimaras is oft away with the scouts and Lalorn is always reading some new book or other and so I do not see them all that much. I do not see the others either. But then I am much too young and would only get in their way. Except for Galvreth,” he suddenly added before Elrohir could utter an indignant rejoinder.

“What of Galvreth?”

“He is nicer to me now,” Legolas said. “I am starting to like him, Elrohir. Aelluin and Elivorn, too. They do not tease me as much as they used to.”

Elrohir had to smile. If only Legolas' brothers realized just how high such praise was when uttered by a loving, trusting child. But recalling Galvreth's unwonted even if still infrequent displays of appreciation or support for Legolas, Elrohir suspected the argent-haired prince was beginning to understand that.

“I forgot to tell you, Moriel had her first baby last winter,” Legolas informed him. “A girl-child.”

“Do you miss her?”

Legolas shrugged. “Not really. I much prefer Lothwen's company. She reads to me like you do before I sleep.”

Elrohir was pleased. It was good to know that the nursemaids who had replaced Moriel and Glorowen continued to give Legolas the loving care he deserved.

“She is also very pretty,” Elrohir teased him.

He supposed he should have known better than to show awareness of another Elf's attractions. The implied suggestion that Legolas might have found enjoyment in his night-nurse's comeliness went right over the Elfling's head.

“I hadn't noticed,” the child said tartly. “But obviously you did.”

Elrohir was torn between a groan and a guffaw. He was often caught between extremes of emotions whenever he dealt with Legolas' unpredictable jealousy. As he had become more confident of Elrohir's deep and exclusive regard for him, the Elf-prince's possessiveness had diminished. But every once in a while, it reared its head as it did now. Nearing adolescence the princeling might be but he was apparently not quite near enough to appreciate the charms of other Elves. Indeed, he only took note of them if Elrohir did and seldom with pleasure.

“Surely you do not deny that she is,” Elrohir shot back, a grin threatening to erupt.

A fearsome frown creased Legolas' smooth brow. “Then go and tell her so when next you come to Eryn Galen,” he retorted. He turned over in the bed with a huff, his back to Elrohir.

“Now why would I do that when my sole reason for visiting Greenwood is right here with me?” Elrohir bit back his laughter at the slightest shift in the stiff cant of the child's shoulders. He added: “Besides, I would rather reserve my lauds for one particular Elf when he is grown enough to receive them with all propriety.”

Legolas looked over his shoulder, eyes both wary and hopeful. “Will that Elf have to wait much longer?” he queried.

Elrohir swallowed a chuckle. “No more than a dozen years I believe,” he said. “Though I dare say I shall have to get in line in order to sing my praises to him.”

“Get in line?” Legolas turned over in confusion. “Why would there be a line?”

Elrohir slipped a finger beneath the Elfling's chin and lifted it that he might gaze into the child's crystalline eyes.

“Because, penen vîreb”-my treasured one-“you will find yourself with more admirers than you will know what to do with,” he explained. “I shall be but a face in the crowd by the time you are done growing up.”

Umbrage completely forgotten, Legolas promptly snuggled into Elrohir's arms. “I don't want a crowd of admirers,” he protested. “I want only you. Just you, Elrohir.”

The Elf-knight looked at him with affection, all mirth gone. “And I will be there, Legolas,” he replied. “If you will still want me.” A brilliant smile was his prize and he held the child closer.

“Will you sing to me now?” Legolas drowsily asked.

Elrohir smiled and, in lieu of a reply, softly crooned the requested lullaby. When at last Legolas drifted into slumber, the twin fondly studied his features. His face was visibly changing, slowly losing its roundness. This soon Elrohir could already tell that he would have the most exquisite cheekbones, a finely shaped nose, a proud jaw akin to his eldest brother and lips that would tempt even the most prim and proper of Elves into imprudence.

He started and drew away from Legolas. Elbereth! Where did that thought come from? Elrohir chided himself for entertaining it even as he realized why it had occurred to him.

He had just come from looking upon another Elf of similar comeliness. An Elf who was brother to Legolas. If he could appreciate Galvreth's attractions, what more his own intended's nascent charms? He'd known from the start that Legolas would be one of the most beauteous Elves ever to grace Arda. But caught up in the joys and mishaps of close companionship with a precocious child, never before had he regarded his beauty with anything more than from a purely aesthetic point of view. Tonight however it suddenly dawned on him that the time was coming when that beauty would be his to know in every sense of the word.

He rose from the bed, still gazing at the sleeping Elfling, apprehension mixed with pleasure pooling in his gut. This was going to prove far more daunting than he'd ever imagined. He had sworn himself to an early betrothal between them precisely to preserve Legolas' innocence through what was undoubtedly one of the most uncertain and sometimes treacherous phases every sentient creature passed through on the way to maturity. Yet here he was already contemplating what it would be like to be the first and likely only Elf to ever sample the youngest prince's favors.

He groaned in vexation. Eru help him survive these coming years as Legolas blossomed into a temptation he might find all but impossible to resist.

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

Glossary:

tuilë - Quenya for spring

Peredhel (pl. Peredhil) - Half-elf/Half-elven

Thranduilion - son of Thranduil

To be continued…
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness