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Aearlinn	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 8921 -:- 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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Aearlinn - Erin Pâd an Sîr

"Elrond, I think you should know…" Erestor began the very instant the Lord of the land exited his sleeping chamber but stopped mid-sentence as his gaze travelled over the new hair style. Lindir used to weave similar plaits into the locks of Eärendil's twins when they were young. Elrond hadn't worn warrior braids like that since he attained his majority and was drafted into Gil-galad's army.

"What? Is there something you wish to say, mellon vrûn?"

"Yes." Erestor cleared his throat. "That is a style I haven't seen you use in a very long time. There's a reason?"

"There is," Elrond puffed up rather like a pheasant fanning out its showy feathers. "This is a sylvan tradition. These braids are the pattern used in Legolas' House and by wearing them I signify my allegiance to it as his betrothed. What do you think?"

Erestor was sorely tempted to make a derisive comment regarding the notion of a primitive Wood Elf belonging to a 'House' but found he hadn't the heart to do it. He stared at Elrond's eager face and bright eyes, so much clearer and filled with hope rather than worry and sorrow, took in the high brow smooth and free from the lines of strain normally there. How could he possibly tell his dear friend he looked utterly ridiculous?

"I think you look happier than I've seen you since Arwen was born," the advisor smiled, an expression that grew more genuine as it was returned with a huge grin and a hearty laugh as his Lord clapped him on the shoulder. Then the merriment fled from Erestor's eyes as he remembered the rest of the statement. "Betrothed? You will make it official and marry The Sylvan?"

"Yes, yes, it's so," Elrond was nodding as they resumed ambling down the hall.

"Are you sure that's wise? What will the people say of this, not to mention your sons?"

"They will say 'eglerio elenath' and 'hartham glass veleg' if they know what's good for them," Elrond frowned. Erestor's curt retort spoiled his delightfully relaxed and ebullient after-glow.

"It's quite sudden, mellon vrûn, just two days ago you were regaling me with a lurid recitation of your latest carnal encounter with the Wood Elf. Now you wish to make him your spouse, an equal in your House and thus a Lord of the Valley?"

"I'm in love with him, have been for years. This incident with the poisoning made me realise how very dear to me he is."

"I see," Erestor was troubled and didn't hide it. This was not what he'd expected and the repercussions of such a radical change were not to be brushed off lightly. "This isn't going to be easy, Elrond. People aren't ready for a common sylvan archer to be made into a ruler over them."

"What nonsense! Legolas doesn't wish to rule over anyone; he just wants to be loved and to feel safe. He's with child, Erestor, he bears me an ellfling!"

"He's what?" Erestor stalled and had to put his hand out against the wall to catch his faltering balance. "Very funny, you made my heart stop." The Chief Advisor was displeased to be made a fool and actually blushed.

"I'm serious. Legolas is pregnant."

"Impossible."

"I assure you it isn't. I'm a healer and the sire so I think you should accept my evaluation."

Erestor stared in incredulous confusion. He'd seen Legolas naked but hadn't been close enough to observe the unique configuration of dual genitalia. He scrutinised the face before him, noting nothing that hinted at jesting. Elrond was serious and this only baffled the seneschal more. He must have misunderstood the words, then, or perhaps he'd had more to drink than he'd realised and this was some kind of remnant hallucination. Erestor shook his head and laughed nervously.

"I'm sorry, my mind must be muddled. I thought you just said Legolas is pregnant."

"I did. What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" Erestor loosed an exasperated noise from his throat and gestured ineffectually with his arms as if to clear away whatever clouds of delirium were creating this grotesque misunderstanding. "You are the one spouting absurdities. How exactly do you make a male conceive? Let me think, if he swallows your seed that won't work for its potency is sure to be destroyed during digestion."

"Erestor!"

"At the other extreme, spilling whilst buried up to the balls in his arse is equally useless as anything inside tends to come out from that end."

"Stop it!" Elrond shouted and before either one knew what was happening landed a resounding slap on his cousin's left cheek. They both startled at the loud clap and Erestor jumped back, his hand lifting to touch the stinging red palm-print.

"You struck me!"

"You earned it! Don't you ever let me hear you mocking my lover. What we do together is private and not a subject for your rude comments."

They were silent for a few heartbeats, each one trying to find a way to calm down and regain control of the volatile situation. At last Erestor sucked in a huge breath and heaved it back out, dropping his hand from the fading imprint.

"I'm sorry. This is a shock and I believed you were deliberately bating me."

"I'm sorry, too. I'm telling you the absolute truth, Erestor, and you'll just have to trust me when I say Legolas was not made the way other males are put together. He has everything required to both conceive and bear young."

"Ai Valar! What next? You're certain this child is yours, I hope?" The words were out before he realised what he'd said and the seneschal paled as he retreated before Elrond's livid advance. They both stopped when his back reached the wall of the corridor. "Forgive me, Elrond, that didn't come out very tactfully but it is bound to be said sooner or later by someone."

"Am I supposed to me grateful to have heard it from you?" Elrond's voice shook as hands curled into fists. He struggled to maintain control of his temper, ashamed of his earlier reaction and determined not to repeat it.

"No, and I am sorry." Erestor sighed, and he was, too, for the relaxed contentment had vanished from his friend's features long ago. He hadn't meant to burden Elrond's soul with anger. Resigned to another blow, the seneschal decided he would neither defend himself nor strike back, feeling perhaps he deserved it somewhat. His desire for penance must have communicated to his Lord and it was with no small relief that Erestor watched the fury crest in his kinsman's eyes and then just ebb away.

"Erestor, I love you as a brother but if you ever say anything like that again I will feed you your tongue."

"Fine, but there will be more questions and accusations of the sort, whether voiced publicly or whispered behind your back, so you'd best be prepared to allay these doubts in a less violent manner," Erestor said seriously.

"Can I expect your support or are you going to be the one leading the opposition?" Elrond asked, hurt by the response his joyous news had generated.

"I am your kinsman; how can you ask that?" Erestor's feelings were just as bruised. "It's my job to be brutally honest with you, Elrond, even when no one else will."

"All right, then say it plainly. What do you fear in this union becoming formalised? Tell me your just concerns and I will answer them fully."

"I worry that you're becoming distracted from the great task set before you at the close of the Second Age." The seneschal fell back on Glorfindel's continual complaint, disturbed that he couldn't really name what made him so uneasy. "You are one of the three Keepers and that is no light duty. The Shadow grows and your strength will need to be at its peak. An elfling will take much from you in the first few years; none know this better than you do."

"You didn't object when it was Celebrian bearing my children," remarked Elrond sadly. "No one would have dared accuse me of neglecting my responsibilities in favour of supporting my wife through pregnancy and childbirth. Not once was the suggestion raised that I was unfit to remain the Lord of this valley. That is what you imply, Erestor."

"Nay, I didn't mean it that way," rejoined the advisor, but it was a rebuttal without merit and he knew it, for if he didn't mean that then precisely what were his objections about?

"I see through you how it will be for Legolas now, for if you, my cousin, my closest friend, can say such a thing in all seriousness then those who hold me less dear will have no trouble maligning my mate and our babe, whether we are formally wed or not." Elrond was silent a moment or two, regarding his kinsman solemnly, and then he shrugged and ran his fingers across the ridge of tightly braided hair at his temple. "So be it. If the citizens of Imladris wish me to step down because of my love for Legolas, I will do so. I will even counsel for you to be named my successor if that is your wish."

"Ai! Elrond, I meant nothing at all like that, please!" Erestor gripped his cousin's biceps and shook him a little, shocked at the level of devotion such a statement underscored. He had joked often enough with Glorfindel about Elrond's intentions, but never imagined the raillery would become reality. "If it comes to that, surely your sons will be asked to oversee the realm until the child is old enough to be beyond risk. I am not hoping to usurp your place, mellonen."

"I'm glad to hear you say it," Elrond replied. "From Glorfindel I might expect such resistance yet I find you the source of my concerns instead."

"I am your kinsman, Elrond, and I am your Chief Advisor. I will not desert you."

"Good, though it is less than I might wish," Elrond sighed dejectedly and pulled free of Erestor's hold, proceeding toward the dining room. "I admit it seems ridiculous in light of your staunch dislike for Legolas, but I'd hoped you'd be happy for me."

"You ask much," answered the advisor warily. "Try to see it as others do. This union you undertook to save the Elf's life was difficult enough to accept. It goes against the grain to see our respected Lord succumb to such primitive drives, disconnected from any knowledge of the sylvan, not even his name, when you took him and so readily gave up as much of your light as he would accept. How can we not view that with suspicion? Think on what harm might be done if such a power were to be used for ill intent. It has crossed more than one mind that the Wood Elves' mission was to retrieve that which you guard."

"He knows nothing of what you speak," insisted Elrond. "One look into his eyes is proof of his utter innocence regarding intrigues and dark designs. Furthermore, whatever unkind things people say about King Thranduil, he is not one to wish for the kind of burden I bear. He holds nothing but contempt for the last renderings from Celebrimbor's forge and was most outspoken on the subject when last we met. If you must know, he cautioned me in the strongest terms to lock the gem away and never wear it on my person."

"That was long ago and who knows what trials he has endured under the eaves of his forest? Perhaps he sees a reason to want such power now."

"Even if that were true, which I vehemently reject, he is not so cruel a ruler as to sacrifice so many lives to bring it about. Think on what you suggest! He would have had to cold-bloodedly send his warriors into that trap, the existence of which he can't possibly know, hoping for one to survive and end up in Imladris, there to ensnare me in the sylvan way. It is inconceivable he would design such a horrendous plot, even if such a thing could be brought about with any certainty. You are learned and wise; admit there is not a shred of evidence to support this argument."

"True, it is far-fetched, yet that and other equally improbable scenarios will arise among the populace. I repeat, it won't be easy for them to accept you have true feelings for Legolas. We will be doing a great deal of reassuring and spend many hours deflating these rumours."

"Oh, so it is 'we' again?" Elrond smiled at his cousin. "Well, I'm pleased."

"Aye, I could never renounce our friendship. We have always backed one another and I won't fail you, though it astonishes me that your marriage should be the cause of the moment. Knowing he's pregnant explains much, though. I admit The Sylvan is beautiful and alluring, but I can't understand how you've come to love him truly. There is so little in common between you." Erestor smiled back, perhaps a bit wickedly. "Beyond the outstandingly gratifying sex you describe, of course."

"It's not simply a case of legitimising my paternity," Elrond was serious and did not laugh at the jest. "Do not question if my love is real for it is truer than any I have ever experienced, even for Celebrian. That was but infatuation compared to the bond I share with Legolas. I'd forgotten, Erestor. Other things always needed my attention and I simply let it get away from me."

"What do you mean?"

"My life, cousin, I let my life just slip away entirely, substituting this routine, this role."

"Elrond, what you term routine is vital to the preservation of what remains of Iluvatar's design for the world. Your work is your life and that is no triviality." He pursed his lips in dismay."That's exactly the kind of remark that gives everyone reason to worry."

"Where is it ordained that I must give up all hope for happiness while striving against the Darkness? Seems that would give Sauron some kind of victory, however shallow, if people are no longer free to simply enjoy the blessing of being loved and cherish each opportunity to laugh and smile. We used to have such fun together when we were young, you and me and Elros. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember," said Erestor quietly, more than stunned to hear Elrond speak his brother's Elvish name. Once Elros chose the fate of Men, he'd taken a new name and insisted on everyone using it, especially his twin. The seneschal had thought it a cruel thing to do, though he'd never dared speak that aloud. He was glad for that in the end, for the last one hundred years of mortal life were hard ones as Elros' body failed him and he grew steadily weaker. By the time he exhaled his last breath, Erestor felt he understood. Tar Minyatur had died but Elros would never perish, eternally young in the hearts of his friends and kin.

"He would be pleased; though his jesting would be unbearable, Elros would've approved of Legolas," Elrond said.

"And the finest wines are fermented in Mordor!" Erestor exclaimed, shaking his head. "He would have been appalled and you know it. He was a great Man and a good king, but it is principally due to his beliefs that there is so much prejudice against same-sex bonds among humans. How often did he tell you to abandon your 'vulgar cravings and wed a good elleth'?"

"Every time we spoke," Elrond sighed, "but as he grew closer to the end he came to regret his hatred of male pairing, admitting it was all due to the heartbreak Lindir suffered over love for Maglor. I stand by what I say; Elros would have liked Legolas."

There they let it drop, neither wishing to reactivate sensibilities still so sore and strained. They continued quietly down the corridor.
"Yet there is a reason you came to fetch me, is there not?" asked Elrond finally.

"Indeed, something is amiss between the mortal couple," Erestor answered.

"Amiss? What happened? Really, Erestor, I wish Legolas could hear this so he would understand more fully just why I am so reluctant to leave the cares of the country to you and your councillors," Elrond scolded. "It was but a simple hunt and a ball; what could possibly have gone wrong to put the pair at odds?"

"Don't blame me for it!" groused Erestor, but his eyes were alight with a distinct gleam of merriment. "The hunting party was a great success and we made sure to let the human Lords make the kill. The banquet and ball were magnificent and offered abundant opportunities for the Men and their Ladies to dance, sing, drink to excess, and stumble away in inebriated lechery. Echthelion and Adrahil are now close confidants and seem to genuinely like one another. Adrahil has invited the Steward to the seaside in the summer and Echthelion accepted. The event was thoroughly appreciated by guests and citizens alike."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"I came upon Denethor very early this morning during my walk amid the gardens. He was alone, quite dishevelled and highly irritated to have been discovered. I placated him as best I could and sent him off to ready himself for the day, but I am sure he will be late if he shows up at all."

"Did you speak to him? Please get to the point, Erestor."

"Of course." Erestor had to hide his smirk with a deferential dip of the head, amused at how quickly Elrond resumed the dreary tedium of lordship. "I can only tell you he was very disturbed in mind and appeared to be upset that I saw him. Thus, I simply bade him a good morning and pretended nothing was out of order in his dress, though it certainly looked as though he'd slept out in the grass for his garb was damp with dew. I went on my way and eventually returned to the house.

"Prince Adrahil was already at table, sipping on a truly obnoxious smelling tonic that he avows cures all ill-effects of drunkenness. How he managed to swallow it down without vomiting I shall never understand. Beyond that one indication, there was nothing improper in his presentation; that Man certainly has a trace of Teleri yet in his veins for he was the picture of princely grace and refinement."

"Erestor."

"Yes, Elrond, I am at the pivotal point now. Adrahil still looked rather pale and green, so I naturally inquired if there was more our healers might do to relieve his distress, but he whispered that his discomfort had nothing to do with the pounding headache. He confided that his daughter refuses to come out of her suite and will not permit him to see her. When he barged in anyway, she fled to the bath chamber and locked the door, in tears no less, but she wasn't fast enough to prevent him noticing her appearance. She was still in her party clothes, though their charm was greatly diminished for having been put on inside out. The Prince fears his daughter has been indiscreet and will not follow through with the marriage."

"What in Mordor?" Elrond hissed, coming to a full stop and taking his cousin's arm in a steely grip. "Did the Lady Finduilas not leave the ball with her maiden attendants?"

"Nay, she left with her betrothed but I didn't follow them. It didn't seem necessary; she was very intoxicated and Denethor was practically carrying her. He was not so far gone, I don't believe, for he appeared to have everything under control."

"Ceryn O Caranthir!" Elrond growled. Erestor couldn't help himself; he sputtered out a laugh through his nose and struggled to control the grin trying to break free. "What is so amusing about this?"

"Nothing, nothing, it's just such a funny thing to say."

"This is serious, Erestor. We, that is to say I, will be blamed for this since the incident happened under my roof as a result of the ball. Yet if she and Denethor spent the night together that can hardly bring about a breaking of the betrothal."

"One would not think so," Erestor shrugged, "but Adrahil said the Lady was quite distraught and kept saying she could never hold up her head again and how could Denethor still marry her."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No."

"Where is the Steward and has he heard this rumour yet?"

"I believe he is still abed and likely to remain so for at least another hour or two. He didn't succumb to the wine until very early this morning. I observed his valet struggling to get him back to his chambers before he lost consciousness."

"Good." Elrond managed a grim smile and squeezed his friend's arm. "Now then, you go find Denethor and determine what happened. I will go calm Adrahil and send Arwen to comfort Finduilas and ease the fair Lady's conscience. Quickly! The wedding is to be held at sunset."

Erestor watched as Elrond disappeared down through a doorway, elegant robes flowing in undulating waves of velvet expedience, very glad for the release of his arm, for though the Lord of Imladris did not participate in the patrols he had never let his battle skills deteriorate and possessed the strength of a warrior. The seneschal rubbed his biceps but was smiling nonetheless, for everything had gone just as he'd hoped. He chuckled smugly; Elrond was so easy to manipulate and would never realise events had been engineered to get him out of the way for a time. Erestor's step was light as he proceeded through the house, whistling the long, lyrical sequence of a morning-lark's song as he went.

Now, Erestor was not really up to anything too terrible, lest anyone think he was purposely trying to undermine the goals of his Lord and kinsman. He was merely intrigued and desired to be the one sent to determine Denethor's level of comprehension regarding the ugly little mishap. Erestor had withheld a small piece of information from his Lord, for the Steward's son had stopped him in the garden and made a most unexpected request. Denethor had demanded to know whether Legolas would be at breakfast and if not where the Man might find him.

At first he'd assumed this was about the Spa incident and Denethor's desire to defend Finduilas' honour, but with Adrahil's revelation following immediately after Erestor was beyond curious. He didn't for one minute believe Legolas could possibly be the culprit responsible for the Lady of Dol Amroth's fall from grace, yet it was certain the Steward's heir was more than a little agitated. The seneschal hadn't known about the brewing scandal when he'd encountered Denethor, of course, and had coldly told the human that Legolas was a Wood Elf and spent his mornings in the grounds of the estate near the brook, though it was unlikely the mortal would be able to locate him. Now Erestor was hoping to witness a confrontation between the two and made his way outside, ostensibly to prevent Denethor's demise should he actually find Legolas and challenge him to some sort of duel, but really just to pacify his penchant for prying.

His reasons for doing this were not consciously meant to be cruel, as he already explained to Arwen, and Erestor's main concern was keeping everyone in Imladris blind to the truth: Elrond was losing his heart to the The Sylvan; a truth confirmed this very day from Elrond's own lips. The effect this knowledge would work on the peoples' confidence in their Lord was not likely to be positive. Its effect on Erestor was too primitive for the upright Noldorin noble to acknowledge: he was jealous.

Not, let it be made clear, of Legolas' claim to Elrond's love but rather Erestor was envious of his kinsman's claim upon the sylvan's lean and supple body. He coveted Legolas and to hide it, from himself as much as everyone else, Erestor indulged in supplying the valley's occupants with endless proofs of the Wood Elf's unsophisticated nature. Somewhere in the depths of his psyche, the seneschal had hoped Elrond would tire of Legolas and then Erestor would satisfy his desires. In those same unsounded chasms of the subconscious, the Noldo Lord now understood this would never come to pass and his motives for snooping, never innocent in the first place, became perhaps a mite vindictive.

None of this was on his mind at the moment, however, as he melted into the shade cast by a large hedge of blueberry bushes, for the anticipated drama had already commenced.

"What will you do? I know you saw us." Denethor stood tall and proud though his voice betrayed an underlying fear no Elf would fail to miss, even if the human denied it to himself.

"Aye, but as I said it is a private matter, is it not? I feel no need to ever bring it up." Legolas shook his head; no one ever listened to him even when it was in their best interests to do so. "Lord Denethor, just because you do not see any Elves near us does not mean you are beyond hearing range." His eyes flickered to the hedge and Erestor flinched, cringing lower into the greenery.

"Bah! Stop trying to evade the subject! What if someone finds out and word of it reaches Finduilas, or her father? Worse, should my father learn of it he will spurn me. I cannot have that happen! I will do whatever is necessary to prevent it." The Man took a step closer, looming over the smaller and slighter figure with a most menacing scowl adorning his stern face.

"Enough. I am not your enemy," Legolas dismissed the attempt at intimidation with a wave of his hand. "The affair doesn't concern me in the least. Believe me, I've troubles of my own to resolve without taking on yours."

"No doubt!" The Man snorted in contempt. "Your position here is not exactly comfortable, I'd warrant, especially the one you were in last night. Still, you seemed to find it quite pleasurable and here you are, none the worse for wear."

"That isn't an appropriate thing to say, Lord Denethor," rejoined Legolas coldly, shifting from his relaxed pose into a more formal stance. "Confine your comments to your own predicament. You have but two days left in the valley; my advice is to carry on as you would had this never occurred. Marry the fair princess and return to your father's lands; forget the adventure of the night."

"Don't mistake me for a simpleton!" Denethor spat. "I will settle this now rather than wait for the whole thing to erupt into public knowledge at the worst moment. I will not shame my people or embarrass my father before the rulers of foreign lands, all because of one drunken escapade. It is due to your influence this came to pass and so I shall say should it come out."

"Me? How do you arrive at that result? I am not the one who went wandering during the night, invading private areas of the estate to use for a romantic encounter. Drunkenness is the culprit here, or rather you're inability to monitor your own intake of wine."

"Nay, I have never had such a thing happen to me before and many a party has left me less than sober. It is that wicked magic I've heard of with which you ensnared the Lord of these lands!"

"Keep your voice down! I do not work spells and enchantments, Lord Denethor, nor have I anything to do with your personal relationships."

"What transpired was according to your wishes. I was drawn to that garden path and surely you sent Bertran there to intercept me and bring me low."

"I did no such thing," Legolas scowled. "I have had no contact with your servants and even if I had I've no reason to involve myself in your interactions with them. Look elsewhere for someone to blame." He decided he'd listened to enough and a low rumbling in his belly warned him to get on with his preparations for a filling meal. "No more, Lord Denethor; I can't see what benefit this conversation will reap. Let us part and cease this antagonism."

"No, you will answer me!" Denethor hissed. "You used enchantment to redirect my steps and alter my thoughts. It must be so, for I've never lain with a male before. So I will state if it becomes common knowledge. I will denounce you as a sorcerer!"

"You would speak a lie, then, for those were not the tentative and unfamiliar gropings of innocents I beheld. Your accusation is groundless. What purpose would I have in doing such a thing, even were it possible?"

"That is what I am here to learn. You think you have me in your grasp and maybe that is so; what is it you want of me? Riches? Influence at my father's court? Name the price of your silence!"

"This is ridiculous," breathed Legolas. "I am a Wood Elf; I have no interest in either the affairs of Men or the accumulation of wealth. There is nothing you have which I desire. Be assured, I will simply be glad to see you go, the lot of you."

"Then you did it for spite, you wretched devil, in return for my comments at dinner. So be it; consider us even though what you have done is wholly indecent and vile. Yet, I must have some assurance of your discretion, Elf."

"My name is Legolas; please use it," Legolas drew himself to stiff attention, incensed to have his morals so thoroughly maligned. "Your accusations are baseless; I have done nothing to you whatsoever. Such slanders as you can manage cause me no discomfort and instead tell upon your poor breeding. Thus, I will not speak to those insulting remarks but instead address your fear of discovery."

"Fear? I do not fear any…"

"Silence! You have said more than enough! My up-bringing has no doubt been unlike to yours, for in my country and among my people such an intimate experience would never be discussed in this manner. We Wood Elves respect the confidential nature inherent in having knowledge such as you and I share. I trust you not to speak of it, yet you allude to it so crudely, assuming no one will hear you. I tell you that is a mistake and you disregard my warning. I urge you now to say no more!"

"You dare reprimand me, catamite? You, no more than a male concubine for the use of Lord Elrond, stand there and order me to be silent?" Denethor was red-faced and angry in his shame, lashing out as cruelly as he knew how. The reaction did not please him, for rather than becoming upset in turn Legolas merely smiled; a minimal, sardonic expression completed by the utter contempt within his eyes.

"I don't care what ugly words you use, human, for you will be dead long before I have even begun my second century. What can it mean to me, an immortal, if your opinion is so skewed? Nothing, I say, and that is all the assurance you will get from me. Do what you will; I have no more words to share with you. Ego!" The sylvan motioned with his hand a curt dismissal that could not be misunderstood. He waited as the Man remained rooted, open-mouthed and livid with fury.

"If I hear this being whispered about the estate…" he raised his hand and pointed at Legolas, taking another step closer, and the next instant found the accusing appendage snatched hard, twisted, bent behind him. He cried out in pain, astonished as a flash of golden hair whisked across his line of vision while the slender Elf seemed to have vanished. Then he was air-born, flipping head over heals until he landed hard on his backside with a grunt and sat staring up at the irritated sylvan.

"Should word of it be broadcast among the people of Imladris, you will know one thing for certain, Denethor," Legolas growled bending down to glare into the mortal's startled face. "You will know that Legolas of Greenwood never mentioned it to any living soul and the fault lies elsewhere. Do you understand me, human?" He held out his hand to help the Man rise only to see Denethor shrink from it in dread.

"Is this another example of Wood Elves' magic?" the human asked, scrambling to his feet and backing away, eyes warily appraising the Elf. "It must be for no one of your size should be physically capable of overpowering me."

"Ai Valar, why must I suffer these idiots?" Legolas asked of the clear blue sky overhead. With a sigh and a shrug he decided it was hopeless and affirmed the mortal's fears. "Aye, this is but a small taste of the Power of the sylvan people. Do not forget it and be grateful I didn't take unfair advantage of your inferior strength and skill. Had I exerted any real effort you would have a badly broken arm."

"Inferior? I am one of the best warriors in all the realm of Gondor and if not for such sorcery as you possess I would pummel you into pulp for such talk," the Man tried to resume his haughty manner though the result was less than convincing.
"Aye, no Man is a match for me and few are the Elves who could best me either. Call it magic if you will, I care not a bit as long as you remember that I can break every bone in your body and yet leave you alive, crippled and helpless and dependent upon the suffrage of healers to care for your inert and paralysed form. I suggest you refrain from insulting me again. Do we understand one another?"

Lord Denethor gaped as his hand felt at the hilt of his dagger, yet he was not willing to test the Wood Elf further. He'd desired to learn if the legends were true and he'd been given ample proof. If this small and willowy Elf could wield such force, of what violence might a specimen similar to Glorfindel be capable? His heart leaped, for he remembered that he'd used insulting words to the mighty Elf Lord also. He swallowed as Legolas' eyes narrowed, focusing on his fingers where they played upon the weapon, and hastily drew his hand away, holding forth both palms, empty and placating.

"Yes, yes, we understand each other, Legolas. I will not forget your warnings. I would ask your indulgence for my behaviour. I suffer from the residue of strong Elven wine in my blood and thus my tongue runs amok before my thoughts can govern it. Of course, I trust your discretion over this awkward incident. Indeed, there is no reason not to be cordial. Perhaps we will speak again in future and a treaty of alliance drawn up between my people and the Elves."

At this sudden change of demeanour Legolas arched his brows but shrugged his shoulders and would not permit the Man's attempt to save face. "I suppose that is what is called diplomacy but to me it sounds like lies. You were not drunk at the feast the night of your arrival here and your words then were equally rude. Later, you again impugned my character by suggesting I deliberately subjected Lady Finduilas to my agony at the Spa. Today you accuse me of sorcery and plotting to blackmail you over your secret lover. I see no reason to counsel my people to come to the aid of Gondor, should my opinion ever be asked, for you would never bring your armies to defend the lives of the Wood Elves."

"You know nothing of the situation in Gondor!" the Steward's son yelled, features twisted in wrath to have his offer of a truce refused. "We need no aid from such as you. It is Men who hold the Darkness of Mordor at bay. If not for that, your pitiful forest would be overrun and your people massacred."

"It's true, I know little of your world. Yet you know even less of mine, for at least I have studied the history of your realm while you are satisfied with rumours and tall tales concerning mine. My people owe nothing to yours; we defend our own and have done so since before there was a country called Gondor. Now leave here, unless you hanker for broken bones. I've no more words to trade with you today."

After a few tense seconds, the Man finally stalked away and Legolas drew a deep breath to cleanse his soul. He had come entirely too close to letting his temper get the better of him and was relieved the human had backed down. It would have been truly shameful to get into a common brawl with an opponent so far beneath him in skill and strength, and he shuddered to imagine Elrond's disapproving frown should it have happened. As it was, Legolas regretted his boasting and contentious words and remembered who had overheard them.

"The wind has many voices," he said quietly and sighed. "The sound of air moving among leaves is very different from the noise of the breeze ruffling through velvet robes and long Elven hair. Then again, the wind carries many scents within its invisible tendrils. An Elf, especially a Noldorin one, has a most distinct odour. Will you not come out of the hedge, Lord Erestor?"

TBC

to miscanthus: thank you!

mellon vrûn: old friend

'eglerio elenath': praise the stars

'hartham glass veleg': we wish you great joy

Ceryn O Caranthir: Caranthir's balls

Erin Pâd an Sîr: On the Way to the River

Pesseg Athrabeth: pillow conversation

Raug dithen: little demon (imp)

herth: troop, as of warriors

Gwaedh Prestannen: Troubled Troth

Thyrin Trenor: Secrets Told

Galbreth: beech tree, from a dialect of Doriath

faer dithen: little soul

Muilengôl: Veiled magic-a Doriath-derived name for wizards.

Eglerio Elbereth! Eglerio Sulimo, Hîr od Valinor!: Praise Elbereth! Praise Sulimo (a name for Manwë) Lord of Valinor!

ithron sael: wise wizard

Saelben: wise one

Úgerth uin Ionnath: Sins of the Sons

Narwain: January

Nay, saes, avvedi: No, please, don't go.

Dîn Caradhras: Red Horn Pass

Carth Dalt: Slippery Deed

Saelben: Wise one

Alae!: Behold!

Pedethryn Dailt: Slippery Walkers - slugs and/or snails

Nîth Chall: Shadowed Youth

nârion: son of a rat

hecilo: outcast (Quenya)

Ened Ethuil: Mid-Spring

Aegas Mírdan: Mountain Peak the Jewel Smith, an Elf of Rivendell

Muindoradar: brother-father, Uncle

Minya'mmë: first mother, grandmother

Aearen: my ocean

Nín'ódhel: my Deep Elf

Thenin: True. (Yes.)

Man le presta, Aearen?: What troubles you, My Ocean?

Alnad, alnad, Nín'ódhel: Nothing, nothing, My Deep Elf.

Advae?: Better? (Well again?)

Pan vae: All right

Ringe: cold

NOTE: Oh I just couldn't help having Legolas teach that nasty Denethor his place. I just feel terrible for Finduilas to be marrying such a complete jerk. To be fair, I've made him a very conflicted man, sexually involved with one of his father's menservants while wishing to play the part of the noble heir before his betters and that of debonaire lover to Finduilas. Does he have any feelings for her? I have to admit I think he does, and quite similar to Elrond's own regard for Celebrian. Maybe that can all be made clearer in the next chapter, for this one does not explain what is going on with the Lady from Dol Amroth, does it? Elrond's argument with his seneschal seems to have cleared the air between them. Looks like Erestor has become an unwilling ally for the happy couple, though his hidden feelings might cause trouble. And I have to confess that while there was talk of flounder in the previous chapter, this one is full of red herrings. The real trouble hasn't even begun and Erestor won't be its nexus. Forgive me for stopping here, but Chapter Ten is a big one, what with Ened Ethuil and all its implications, and represents the story's midpoint. A word of caution now, for it will be very angsty and very graphic. Well, we haven't heard the last of that flatfish dish, either, and Erestor's confrontation with Legolas might be a bit of a surprise for him.

© 08/18/2007 Ellen Robey
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Aearlinn - Erin Pâd an Sîr