Gladhadithen Trenar Tolad Nost od Oropher [Gladhadithen Tells the
Arrival of Oropher's House]
"The noble Sinda Lord and his three sons rode forth from the bivouac at
tinnu on the first day of their arrival, stopping just shy of the
Ithillum [moon-shade] cast over the ground by the wall of the trees and
the abundant cover of the canopy. I do not believe they could see our
warriors, but it is certain Oropher could sense them, for he would not
permit so much as a hair on Emmelin's charcoal tipped muzzle to leave
the silver sheen spilled by Tilion's burden. Not even one centimetre
further would he venture toward the forest.
"For three nights and two days he waited there patiently, calmly seated
upon his mare's back barring the demands of nature, motionless as she
stamped her hooves upon the turf and tossed her head, blowing
complaints over the delay through open nostrils that sampled the
secrets of the Greenwood. No challenge did he call out, no greeting
passed his lips; the only sounds were his calming words to Emmelin
meant to soothe her cross disposition.
"Oropher's sons mimicked their sire's reserved determination, holding
their tongues admirably and refraining from any show of aggression. I
am sure they could hear the creak and groan of a thousand bows bending
as arrows were trained with lethal accuracy not only upon them but the
warriors in the camp at their backs. As eldest son, Tramborlong rode at
his father's right while Thurin'aur and Thranduil flanked his left.
"The younger sons were quietly scanning the limbs above, yet I could
tell they were unable to detect our archer's positions with any
certainty. It is just as well; for the branches burgeoned with Danwaith
warriors as thick as acorns before autumn's harvest and such a sight
might have forced the lesser princes into a rather embarrassing retreat
to fetch a change of leggings.
"Tramborlong, however, was finding it difficult to reign in his mirth,
for he had spotted me!
"How he discovered my perch I know not, so sure of my stealth was I,
but suddenly I was staring into the warrior's clear, laughing green
eyes as he fought off a smile. Then he winked. Aye, dour Tramborlong
who slew six goblins on the route from Beleriand, winked at me!
"I nearly fell out of the tree and was terrified he would reveal my
location, for it was this moment Iarwain chose to emerge from the
obscuring foliage, stepping into the sunlight on that third day with
two of the other Elders and five armed warriors bearing spears. But
Tramborlong never betrayed me, even years later when I was full grown
and a healer assigned to his provinces and the troops that guarded
them."
Resting on the narrow twist of footholds leading up from the
stronghold's water chamber, Lindalcon listened to the voice of
Gladhadithen as it rose and fell in gentle rhythm, reflecting off the
cool stone walls. As it skimmed over the quiescent surface of the
spring fed cistern, the soothing plainsong absorbed some of the water's
soul, becoming magnified in the liquid essence, and made the elastic
boundary layer dance in minute imitation of ripples on a lake coaxed
into fleeting undulation by the wind of Manwë's breath. Meshed
together, words of air and fluid echoes created a euphonious chorus
from her dulcet solo.
The son of Valtamar watched the faint shimmer of the water as each
syllable tripped across the pool, listened to his own pulse join the
harmony, felt the comfort of the shadowy cavern collect around him, a
cocoon of protective concealment. At first he heard without his mind
giving recognition to the meaning, granting the tones no more notice
than the forest's everyday noises of birdsong or rustling leaves.
It was too much to expect otherwise; he had come to the silent cave to
escape his exploded world. The sight of Aragorn alone in the courtyard
had driven Lindalcon into the empty garden to evade participation in
the next event Vairë chose to weave into the ungainly pattern of
his elder brother's existence. For a second, anger had risen to the top
of the emotional slag heap and he cursed her for using him in this way,
making him take part in the agony just after having arranged that
fleeting respite of bliss for Legolas.
It is not fair! I had no desire to hurt him this way. How can
the Valar employ me thus?
And Lindalcon knew, for just that instant, that his attempt to make
amends in the sentencing of Maltahondo would be another burden Legolas
must carry, built with ease of his own conscience in mind. This was a
facet of his character he had not found cause to examine before, and it
was not one he cared to investigate closely. He hastily shoved the idea
away; Malthen deserved his punishment. The guilt did not disperse,
however, festering just beneath his conscious thoughts, and he felt for
the first time in his life that his father would be ashamed of him for
this act of vengeance, lawful though it might be.
Guided by the brook trickling through the elegant lawns and hedges,
Lindalcon had found his way to the hidden conduit and eagerly followed
it out of the sunlight where even his shadow presented a vulgar mockery
of true friendship and brotherhood, and everyone that looked upon him
must surely see this. Around the path skirting the reservoir he
trotted, stumbling up the winding stair as he fought to control the
outpouring of remorse and regret that surged up from his heart and
threatened to burst it. He sagged down onto the unfeeling rock on the
turn in the steps and found that, now ready to give vent to his sorrow,
the tears refused to flow.
He was weary and drained yet every nerve was screaming out in combined
anguish and rage, fear and grief, denial and resignation.
Simultaneously wound up in inscrutable knots while every fibre of his
body felt strained beyond the point of tolerance, Lindalcon let the
words break upon the jagged outcrop of his ravaged soul. The flowing
vibrations washed over him, smoothing down sharp hurts, eroding away
anger's exaggerated peaks of woe. Gladhadithen's little tale worked its
tender treatment, needing no endorsement from his brain to enter in and
instil the calming message of reassurance within the recount of such
harmlessly mundane events.
Lindalcon silently climbed a few steps more, close enough to allow the
acoustics opportunity to make eavesdropping easy yet still within sight
of the underground pond.
"In those early centuries of the Second Age, Tramborlong's folk spread
out to the south and blended with the settlements clustered near Amon
Lanc. I came to know him well, for he married a silvan maid who was a
cousin of mine and more an aunt to me, like a second naneth. The Sinda
prince had lost one mate to Orcs while in Beleriand, apparently on the
same hunting trip that claimed his mother's life. The couple had not
produced offspring and he told me it was a marriage of alliance between
his father's House and another noble family of Neldoreth.
"The arrangement had not worked out very well for she had fallen in
love with another ellon and was wasting away with pining for her
heart's desire. Tramborlong explained he could not bear to insist she
attempt procreation and their union was never consummated. He urged her
to relocate to Doriath within the protective enclosure of Melian's
Girdle, hoping the Maia could ease her distress and despair, but this
was not within the Istar's gifts to give. Tramborlong blamed himself
for his first wife's death, for he was sure she could have recovered
from the injuries she had sustained if not for her broken heart.
"By his own account, this tragedy marked your uncle and altered his
demeanour for the rest of his life. He believed he had revealed himself
a coward for not standing up to their parents' designs and helping her
secure a true bond-mate. Ever after he considered carefully before
speaking but never held back his objections if a strategy for his
people seemed incongruous with logic and reasonable action.
"He was a champion of the natural order, as he termed it, by which he
meant the long tendrils of events that linked the actions of a single
individual to the very fabric of Eru's design for Eä. The true
disposition of an individual, and by extension the culture to which he
or she belonged, was perfect in its own right; no change was required
to enhance their part in the Music of Iluvatar. Thus, he and your
father became bitter rivals for Oropher's attention.
"Thranduil found nothing but cause for altering our ways and changing
our lifestyle, from the language we spoke to the material from which we
constructed our garments. He urged Oropher to create a fortress and
seal the forest from outside influence, meaning our kin in Lothlorien
and the mortals settled in Dale and Erebor, boasting that he could
replicate the protective barrier of Thingol's wife.
"He also desired for the Sindar to remain separate from the Wood Elves,
saying we would diminish the might of their race and taint the
offspring born of such unions with inferior intellect and backward
religion. He called Tramborlong's union with my cousin, which was a
true soul-bonding, an illicit affair and their children bastards. I
wonder if he thinks on this now, with two children born of his second
marriage."
"Ai, Valar! I am glad for kinship with Oropher, Thurin'aur, and
Tramborlong, yet nothing but disgust can I feel for sharing the blood
of Thranduil," Legolas hissed, ashamed to hear these notions, which of
course he knew from his own experience. Yet now they were his
encumbrances by birth and it was as if a whole new Task, more
impossible to complete than the Warriors' Release, fell upon his
shoulders. Somehow he must undo the injustices the Sinda Lord's tyranny
had inflicted upon his people.
Hearing all this, Lindalcon's eyes widened and he trained his hearing
more closely upon the conversation, curious at the conviction carried
in the vehemence of his brother's pitch. No more did the Tawarwaith
doubt the author of his existence, though the younger elf could not
comprehend how this had come about.
"Aye, but this is not a thing you can change and was never in your
hands to control. Neither is it given to you to assume responsibility
for Thranduil's deeds, for he is not a child and you are not his
guardian," Fearfaron interrupted at once, understanding all too well
where his Second Son's heart would guide him.
"Indeed. Even Oropher, whom Thranduil loved above all save his Naneth,
could not convince the stubborn elf to open his mind to other ideas,"
added the healer. Her lips uplifted in a graceful expression of
compassion, seeing the surprise bloom in the Tawarwaith's sombre eyes,
and she reached out to gently caress his cheek. "Do not be amazed; it
is true. You have noted the depth of feeling the King harbours for the
little prince and princess; with the same fervour did he honour Oropher
and, though it may be hard to accept, his deeds were ever prompted by a
desire to gain his sire's approval and exalt his Lord's esteem."
"You are kind and generous of spirit, seeking for the good in everyone
regardless of the heinousness of the deeds done under their hands. Yet
I say Thranduil only sought his father's acceptance out of rivalry for
his brother's higher position as first-born and heir. He does not like
being second, much less third, to anyone and thus he wished for
Oropher's blessing, thinking he could buy this regard with gold and
treasures and dark arts," complained Legolas.
"You are not so different from me in this, Tirno, for I have not heard
you speak of condemnation for Thranduil, even though you now know the
full viciousness of his vile temper, but rather you have sought to keep
him free of strife for your siblings' sakes," noted Gladdie. "If you
did not find good in his interactions with Taurant and Gwilith, would
you be so considerate? Nay, you would defend them even if this meant
you must remove them from their father. But because you know the love
he bears them is worthy, you would rather take upon yourself any task
to keep that bond from whithering. Do you deny it?"
"I called for his destruction ere you came back with Aiwendil," said
Legolas bitterly and sighed. "But you are not in error, for never would
I follow through on such a statement." It was true; he could not allow
the King to suffer or the little ones would do so in even greater
magnitude.
"And so it was for Oropher as well. He could not think what to do to
help his youngest son and carried the fault for all Thranduil's
shortcomings in his own heart. Thurin'aur, who was closest to the
patriarch in matters of the feä, confessed this to me once during
a lengthy visit to Tramborlong's province. Your Miny'adar thought that
by giving Thranduil into apprenticeship with a spirit hunter during the
family's crisis over the loss of wife and mother, he had doomed his
child to fall into the Shadow's grasp. Thus, he could not take his
wayward warrior with the strange powers to task. He feared to drive him
away forever."
"Thranduil was a spirit hunter?"
"Nay, from what Thurin'aur said he left his mentor before the training
was finished, resuming his goal to become a warrior instead. But the
gift was there and he learned enough to make use of it."
"Ai! Why did no one stop him?"
"How would that be achieved? Can knowledge be removed from the
conscious mind that owns it? Could you forget how to draw a bow?"
interjected Fearfaron. "Oropher tried to reason with him I am sure and
his brothers railed and accused him of far greater horrors than he had
done at the time, probably. Thranduil was unmoved. When he grew weary
of the contention, he took his elite troops and departed Greenwood.
Sometimes more than a century would transpire before their return."
"Aye, they all tried to dissuade him from his path. Tramborlong would
say the youngest perverted the true order of life and was creating a
future none of them would be able to bear. Thranduil countered that
Tramborlong contradicted his stated belief in fate to speak thus, for
it was in Thranduil's nature to seek a better situation for his father
and their people than 'skulking in the shadow of trees'. Thurin'aur,
however, was the one who could really infuriate his little brother, and
the two oft came to physical blows over it. The middle child accused
the youngest of wounding their Adar's heart and soul, adding additional
grief to a feä already suffering more than any of them could know."
"Elbereth, what a stubborn lot!" Legolas shook his head over the image
of all the arguing and dissension that had clouded the dealings of his
kinfolk.
Above his head, Gladhadithen and Fearfaron shared their incredulity to
hear him and simultaneously dissolved into snickery giggles. Hidden in
the stairwell, Lindalcon rolled his eyes in agreement with their
sentiments. None were as obstinate as the Tawarwaith if he thought his
course best, nor would any counsel alter his decision once made.
"What is amusing about this awful history?" demanded Legolas, cheeks
growing a healthier rose once he understood what they were laughing
over.
"Nay, it is not funny; you are right. Mayhap you will be the exception
to this flaw in the bloodline?" offered the carpenter and Gladdie
fairly brayed her opinion of that.
"All right, I see your point. Yet it is right for me to undertake this
remedy," he argued, "for I have not offspring that will be harmed
should I fail or perish in the endeavour."
"Remedy? What do you hope to do?" asked Gladhadithen pointedly and was
unaffected by the surprised expression that suffused her patient's
visage.
"I hope to free our lands of the Shadow's influence. I wish to release
the captive feär bound in the trees and the Enchanted River."
"And this will be done by what means?"
"By whatever means my will and strength permit," snapped Legolas,
uncomfortable with the segue the healer's anecdote was taking. "I would
rally our warriors and seek allegiance with the woodsmen, fight against
the hordes of monsters, and unmake the Wraiths squatting in my woods."
He faltered as to how to effect the second of his objectives. "I will
force Thranduil to revoke the binding spells or have Aewendil assist in
lifting the magic. Mayhap I will figure out the words required myself;
even so did I free my uncles and Te-telch. Is this a dishonourable
goal?"
"Nay of course not, yet you cannot guarantee success, and you have used
a phrase I have heard your father speak. This is what has led you
astray," countered the carpenter. "Some means are unworthy, though your
courage and determination are true, the outcome desired noble and
honest. This is the same error that Thranduil made, and it is thus no
wonder you fall into the identical trap, having dwelled in his shadow
all these long centuries."
"What are you saying?" Legolas was shocked and pulled out of his foster
father's arms to stare in stricken horror. "You liken me to him? I am
so base as to manipulate hearts and imprison souls? How can you charge
me with such?"
"I have not, nor would I ever do so!" Fearfaron gripped Legolas'
healthy arm and shook him gently. "I am not accusing you of any of
those foul acts, Ion Edwen. Hear what my words say! You are not Vala;
the fate of Greenwood is not yours to decide nor is the future of your
siblings a static dream you can shield from the influences of Shadow
and Light. Both good and ill shall transpire throughout Taurant and
Gwilwileth's lives and you cannot prevent them from knowing both.
"Your uncle Tramborlong understood this fact; never conceding defeat
yet bending to the whims of fate, adjusting as necessary rather than
hoping to halt change or undo events belonging in the past. He ceased
trying to re-order the world according to his personal view for he
understood the futility of such a notion. His desire to help his first
wife did not prevent her death; his love for his naneth could not call
her back to him upon hers.
"Tramborlong tried to achieve a balance between active resistance and
capitulation to the vagaries of Vairë's loom. Yet even he was not
always able to distinguish when to do the one or the other. His
distrust of Thranduil caused him to back his father when in other
circumstances he might have counselled against a frontal assault
against so daunting a force. His guilt placed his soul in his brother's
keeping. This is an example of pride, Legolas, and no one is immune to
its more insidious forms. Clothed in self-sacrifice, bold courage, or
deepest devotion, it masquerades as a virtue."
"I am not sure I understand what you are talking about," Legolas shook
his head. "It is pride to wish my siblings a good life and happiness?
It is a trap to pit my will against the disgusting minions of Sauron?
It is not my place to try and undo the crimes wrought by the Lord of my
House?"
"Not quite. It is pride to believe your siblings will not enjoy the
life Eru means them to have without your direct intervention. It is a
false notion to believe your only value is to be derived from a goal no
one elf can bring to fruition. You cannot undo the wrongs your father
has committed; they are part of our history and have become interwoven
with the culture of our world.
"Would the feär granting the protection of enchantment wish to
forsake their purpose? Like Tramborlong and Thurin'aur, those unhoused
ones languished in culpability upon the moment of their deaths and
accepted Thranduil's will in remission of failings. The same can be
said for the souls immersed amid the trees and conjoined with Tawar.
These are the ones who shield our pathways and prevent the spiders from
choosing our city as best to spin their nests. Good has come of the
ill-intent of Thranduil."
"Aye, but some of the wrongs have not been converted to ease and peace!
What of Naneth? What of the Lost Warriors? What of Lindalcon's broken
heart? And…and my mate, Ada, my Berenaur…"
"Ah, Ion Edwen, I know these are grave evils to bear! Yet not one of
these horrors can any act of yours unmake. What then do you seek,
revenge?" Fearfaron collected his distraught fosterling back into his
embrace as he murmured these words.
"Nay, I do not want to punish anyone; I just want things as they were
before." Legolas buried his face into the kindly wood-worker's breast
and sighed loudly enough for Lindalcon to hear it.
The younger elf's heart lurched, for Fearfaron's admonishment sounded
as though the spirit hunter knew he was there, was privy to all he had
enacted in the Chamber of Starlight only moments ago. He could not but
regret the steps he had taken without consulting his brother.
Confirmation came in Legolas' own voice; he would not have allowed
Maltahondo to accept the blame for Erebor had he known of it.
"Listen to yourself!" Fearfaron was saying. "In turmoil run your
emotions, and this is not surprising after all that has happened. But
you do not desire to change the past, not truly. Taurant and Gwilwileth
are a joy to your soul and Lindalcon's place in your life is far
greater than it would be had his loss and yours not coincided.
"If Ningloriel had remained in Middle-earth, she would not be at your
side but in Lorien with her two lovers. While that would have spared
you the grievous hurt inflicted by Elrond, likewise you would never
have found your heart's mate for Erestor would not have come here.
"Vital to your sanity is the knowledge you now have regarding your
father's identity and the elder sons of Oropher are free because of it.
Thus is Tramborlong's philosophy borne out: even the actions you took
in anger and desperation, intending to tender over your immortal life
in payment for debts never yours to expunge, have been turned by the
nature of your existence into benefits. How can you still not see this
amazing and crucial role you play? Thus said Erestor to me just a day
ago: 'His life is a disaster but he leaves everything improved in the
wake of his passing.' This is how he views you and it is an accurate
assessment."
"Aye, do nothing to alter this, Tirno, yet do not go seeking hardship
for it haunts you!" Gladhadithen posited.
Another soul-deep exhalation departed Legolas' lungs and then everyone
was quiet for a time as he thought on the discussion. He frowned,
determined to be the one among his House that could listen and adjust
when reason pointed to wisdom he had overlooked. The carpenter's
statement was correct; Legolas could not undo a single event that had
come to pass yet the archer was still convinced he could have prevented
any of it from occurring in the first place had he acted on his
instincts at Erebor. The same old quandary confronted him: what he had
set in motion he would not choose to reverse, and the guilt over this
burned brightly in his conscience.
If I loose Berenaur, then that will be fitting punishment and
perhaps enough to balance the harm my failure brought to
others. He could not halt the immediate reaction of his soul
to this concept, however, and the searing pain such a future carried
visited him forthwith. Legolas gasped and reached for the old wound
with a shuddering cry.
The heavy tread of mortal feet descending from the kitchen mingled with
the horrid sound.
It was too much for Lindalcon. He rose and tore down the steps and back
through the garden, nearly colliding with Haldir in his desperate dash
to avoid the impact Aragorn's words must have upon his brother. The
March Warden leaped aside and then, having come in search of the young
Wood Elf, gave chase when Lindalcon failed to provide any sign he had
even seen the Galadhrim soldier in his path.
"Ai! What is amiss?" Gladhadithen was at Legolas' side at once and
together she and the carpenter turned him to his back and pulled away
the clutching fingers.
"This is not necessary, Ion Edwen!" exclaimed Fearfaron. "You need not
relinquish your love; have you not heard any of the words spoken here?
Ai! Oropher himself would bemoan your stubbornness! Let go of this
grief for it is unearned. Berenaur is yours; will you deny him now and
wound him thus? What if he were to experience pain such as this over
your decision, made without bothering to ask what he wills?"
"Nay, Ada, I would not refuse him! I would never do anything to harm
him! But if he does not remember…"
Into this scene of woe the mortal son of Imladris' Lord entered,
halting in sorrow to see his friend once more beset with the one
illness he could not cure. Deeply did Aragorn wish his news held the
answer. His healer's gift swept over the injured Tawarwaith in concern,
for he had not had the complete account of the trial as yet.
He is not fit to face this reality; would that I had waited for the
carpenter to seek me first!
"Far! [Enough!] Stop giving Vairë temptation! It does not matter
what he recalls; his feä has already chosen to bind with yours.
This is not a trivial thing and cannot be forsaken without damaging his
heart. You would protect him? Cherish Him? Answer!" Fearfaron shook his
adopted child roughly, eliciting another sharp shout from Tirno's lips.
"Aye, you know this is so! Why do you torment me?" wailed Legolas.
"Then claim what is yours, if you truly desire it," challenged the
talan builder.
"I could do this? Yet if he does not know me then how…"
"Woo him, silly elfling! If this is your soul-mate, can you stand by
and let him journey away to his hidden valley and his dull duty without
you?"
"Aye, he would never turn you down," Aragorn added and all three elves
startled for they had failed to mark his entrance so absorbed was their
attention. "Erestor has an eye for what is fine and you are exactly
what would draw his interest. That is as good a place to begin as any I
know."
"So he has awakened?" asked Gladhadithen morosely.
"Yes, and his recollections are troubled," Aragorn confirmed as he
squatted down next to the healer in order to look Legolas in the eye,
surprised to see him rally and determined to encourage the mood.
No need to attempt shielding him now; best to be
direct. "He cannot recall details but already his heart has
told him his beloved is here; his feä sensed something dreadful
had come to pass. Even Mithrandir, as close as he is to your mind,
knows nothing of this new wound you bear. Yet Erestor spoke of
foreboding blackness overwhelming his thoughts and a terrible vision of
a fire drake intent upon devouring someone dear to him.
"I do not know if he will ever regain what was lost but Erestor is
restless and distraught, has complained of chills and pains, and in his
eyes is revealed a great fear the reason for which he cannot name. He
said he feels as he did when he stood on the shores of Lindon staring
over the vast sea where once had been Beleriand, knowing at last his
family was gone. He grieves for you, Legolas."
"What did you tell him?" asked the anxious Wood Elf.
"Everything! He is quite upset over the results of his plotting with
Elrond, for that he remembers in exacting completeness though its
fulfilment is but vague vision. He said he knows not if what his mind
shows him is memory or only as he imagined things would happen. I left
him pacing the talan, fraught with worry for your well-being, berating
himself for being so cruelly callous to an innocent. I am pleased to
see the integrity I have long respected renewed, and if he is surprised
to learn he has bonded with another elf, he is taking it quite well."
"You see? Perhaps in future you will heed my advice more willingly,"
Fearfaron smiled and helped Legolas sit up, for the spasm of agony was
gone and forgot.
"Aye! What shall I do, Ada?" the excitement in Legolas words was a joy
for his friends to hear. "How do I woo him? I have never tried, never
thought I would need to…"
Gladhadithen laughed and rose to her feet, brushing the dust from her
robe and apron. "I think I shall let you handle such instructions
alone, Fearfaron," she said. "Perhaps I am needed above to set bones
and stitch lacerations after the fracas."
"What?" Legolas gaped up at her. "Why would you be needed thus? What
has happened?"
"Oh, let your foster father explain later; you have more important
things to discuss just now. Yet, go slowly for your strength has been
sorely tested this day." Leaning down to ear-level, she whispered her
final precaution: "No Bench play!" and took her leave after enjoying
the flush of crimson that told of Legolas' recovering vigour even as it
attested to his heightened embarrassment. Intent upon seeking
Lindalcon, for she had not missed the less than quiet retreat through
the water vault and had deduced the source of the noise correctly,
Gladhadithen left by way of the gardens.
"Indeed, Erestor is awaiting your return. He bade me come find out what
the Council decided, which is that all charges have been revoked and
you are a full citizen of the Woodland Realm once more, and to beg an
audience with you," added the Man, grinning to see the soft light of
hopeful anticipation that flared in his friend's eyes.
"He did so, truly? Ai Valar, what will I say?" Legolas gripped
Fearfaron's tunic and tugged, not caring about the trial at all in
light of this other prospect. "Tell me what to do!" he demanded.
"Elbereth! What is all this frenzy? Legolas, he is the same elf you
have just spent four days with in the bonding talan. I think you will
not need any instruction on how to proceed," laughed the carpenter.
"Oh, nay, I cannot… could I?…I mean, just…take him…" Legolas' ears,
however, were already aflame with the idea and he could not suppress a
very lascivious leer from transforming features drawn in lines of
dolorous stress only minutes ago.
"Save the details for your mate, mellonen," urged Aragorn and rose,
offering his hand to help Legolas up. "I will go tell him you will be
home shortly and get the Istar out of the glade. Gandalf has been
chiding Erestor non-stop, promising every sort of dreadful spell,
threatening to reorder his natural constitution into something less
pleasant should he treat with you in any manner but honourably. Over
the course of an hour he repeated, ten times no less, that the rakish
Noldo does not deserve to even look at you; I counted!"
"Hah! I shall expound on this theme also ere Legolas resumes the
courtship," intoned Fearfaron with a curt nod, rising as well and
wrapping his adopted son in a hug that perhaps gave more proof of
Legolas' excitement than the Tawarwaith might wish to provide, for the
younger elf squirmed as his thickening penis brushed against the
carpenter's thigh. But Fearfaron only chuckled and patted his shoulder
gently. "I will not be over long about it, though; do not worry!"
"Do not scare him off!" Legolas whined in exasperation and hurriedly
extricated himself from the disconcerting nearness, red-faced and
unable to meet his father's bemused gaze. "And what am I to do in the
meantime? How will I know when you are done and he is ready? Oh Valar,
I mean when he is prepared for me to come… Nay, that is not what I
meant!"
Aragorn and the older Wood Elf were roaring out their laughter over
these statements and the inelegant attempts to retract them.
"If it was me proposing, I would bring a fitting gift. A jewelled
pendant, an elegant sword or dagger, perhaps even a ring?" suggested
Fearfaron. "Here is the perfect place to make a selection; no finer
collection of precious relics exists on Arda. By the time you have
found the right item, your lover will be more than ready."
"Proposal?" breathed out the Tawarwaith weakly, the magnitude of the
word hitting him with the force of a falling oak tree. "What if he
should decline, for he has those other two already?"
"Humph! Since when are you one to accept defeat graciously? I did not
think 'no' was a concept you made room for in your thoughts," countered
Fearfaron. "Just be direct; tell him he is already yours and you are
just making it all right and proper, for the sake of his reputation."
"Already mine," whispered the Tawarwaith in tones of determined
jealousy. He nodded and smiled at Fearfaron. "I will do it."
Aragorn snorted over the need to protect from stain his tutor's moral
purity and shook his head, marvelling at the possessive caste that
suffused Legolas' visage at his foster father's recommendation. The
mortal could not wait to learn how Erestor handled his unique situation
and would dearly love to see the wild elf put him in his place, taming
his roving eye and ending his promiscuous habits forever.
Orophin and Dambethnîn are not going to be able to keep
their charming seneschal's heart all to themselves any longer. Valar,
they will have to ask this one for permission to so much as gaze in
their mate's general vicinity!
"Go on then; I do not want to wait all day!" urged Legolas and was
actually shoving Fearfaron toward the archway.
"My, so demanding! I think he has forgotten who his elders are and how
to show respect," mocked Aragorn, but did not resist when the archer
grabbed his arm and steered him in the same direction.
"You are certainly not one of them," sneered Legolas. "You are barely
out of infants cloths! I would wager you are not even fifty yet."
"Humans mature so much earlier than elf-kind that you are still a child
in comparison to me regardless the disparity in years."
"What? You are mad if you believe that!" Legolas sputtered in
consternation. "Fearfaron, get him out of here before I have to
demonstrate who is the henellon [boy child] and who is the seasoned
warrior."
"Aye, follow me Aragorn, that is an argument you cannot win. Besides,
we have preparations to make," coaxed Fearfaron and thus the pair,
sporting matched conspiratorial grins, left their charge, ignoring
Legolas' demands to know what they were up to.
TBC
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