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Please see Contents page. Italics indicate thoughts.
Beta'd by Sarah AK, remaining errors mine alone
Chapter Two
The kitchens of The Last Homely House were vast, high-ceilinged
chambers situated behind the architectural masterpiece that was the
main house, occupying an entirely detached building with its own water
supply piped in directly from the waterfall's source. Here, the great
chimneys belched soft, fluffy white clouds of smoky ash round the clock
as the keepers of the Lord's household never knew when an impromptu
feast might be ordered or when unexpected guests might arrive craving
hot water to bathe away the grime of travel and travail.
In the same building could be found the pantries and larders, well
stocked with every sort of staple and provision of necessity as well as
rare delicacies and fruits not normally found in the region, sweets and
pastries, jugs of sweet, cool milk capped with cream, and bottles of
sparkling cider put up at the previous harvest. These humble rooms were
among the most popular destinations for the occupants of the Last
Homely House, and anyone else spending time in Elrond's hospitable
abode.
Many a lover's tryst had begun (and sometimes concluded) at the long,
low table dominating the large room. Innumerable outings and excursions
of amiable camaraderie were planned there, and not a few crushing
diplomatic fiascos had been settled over generous servings of fresh
berries and cream with a glass or two of Elrond's Famous Blueberry
Wine, or some other delectable fare.
Merry and Pippin sauntered across the courtyard separating the kitchens
from the main house and entered into the huge, cavernous rooms. To
their surprise, the hearth was deserted and no sounds could be heard
from the adjoining chambers to indicate where the chefs had gone. They
shrugged as they shared an unconcerned glance between them.
Pippin sighed appreciatively, deeply inhaling the combined scents of
new-baked lembas cooling on racks set upon the table and a simmering
sauce of rich red colour and hearty spices. The Hobbits roamed about,
poking into cabinets and shelves, not certain what they were looking
for but wanting something to munch on while they waited for the object
of their curiosity to appear.
The clever Halflings had astutely deduced the correct conclusion, for
before they had chosen a suitable snack they heard the clear ringing
notes of a fair elven voice, softly singing a cheery tune, and then the
elf himself strolled gracefully into the room through the backdoor.
He halted just inside the opening and stopped his song as he discovered
the Hobbits, the likes of which he had not seen before.
Merry and Pippin stared at him in open-mouthed wonder.
Clear eyes the colour of an unclouded summer sky, alight with the
luminous joy of his existence within the vital fabric of Eru's Making,
gazed upon the Hobbits with child-like curiosity and amiable goodwill.
His whole being was a living hymn of praise, and surely Eru's love of
Arda was proved with this gift of perfection personified in the grace
and beauty of the immortal youth before them.
Yet, more than the physical definition of his form and features
distinguished the elf as something special, unique, and peerless among
the First Born. The quality of his spirit, the candour of his open
heart, and the noble bearing of his nimble mind set him apart in virtue
and valour from his kinsmen. He shone like a rare saffron corundum,
flawless in its natural state, easily discerned amid a host of precious
gemstones.
The Halflings were struck immobile, inarticulate, speechless, and
breathless in the overwhelmingly glorious aura that clung to the elven
youth framed in the cookhouse doorway. They observed the wild mane of
gleaming gold, windblown, askew, thoroughly and uncharacteristically
messy. They noted the fine-boned slender feet, bare upon the
slate-paved floor. Their eyes roamed the half-opened, sleeveless short
tunic that revealed the inherent strength of the archer's arms and a
glimpse of the pale, creamy flesh of his firmly muscled chest.
They instantly knew this had to be Legolas.
Simultaneous sighs of rapturous appreciation slipped past their lips
and drew a wider smile to the young elf's countenance.
"Mae govannen, mellyn o Elrond. [Well met, friends of Elrond]," he said
as he gave a half-bow, politely pressing his left hand to his heart.
"Legolas, uin Eryndhôr Ardh, athra Ered Hithaeglir [I am Legolas
from the Woodland Realm, across the Misty Mountains]."
The lilting quality of his melodious voice made the simple Sindarin
statement seem like a praise of great respect. Though they understood
little more than 'hello' and 'good-bye' in elvish, the Hobbits caught
the name they were hoping to hear, confirming the identity of the elf
in their midst and bringing mischievous grins to the Hobbits' faces as
they bowed in turn.
"Mae govannen, Legolas. I am Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire, and this
is my cousin, Peregrin Took," said Merry.
"But you must call us Merry and Pippin, or even just Pip, if you like,
for so we are known to all our friends," corrected Pippin. "We were
about to enjoy a small mid-morning snack; would you care to join us?"
"Thank you, yes; I am famished! All night I travelled on my journey
here and crossed the river at dawn's breaking. The whole morning I have
been too busy to even think of eating," As the elf spoke he entered the
room and turned to one of the cabinets upon the wall, opening it to
search for something appetising, much as the Hobbits had done before
his arrival. Unsatisfied with the contents, he frowned his lips into a
disappointed line and moved to another cupboard.
Pip's eyes suddenly lit up and he flashed his smirking grin in Merry's
direction while their new acquaintance's back was turned.
"Oh, Legolas, would you mind too terribly much just checking in that
cabinet over there? The lower one, nearest the pie-safe, has some
lovely apricot preserves, I believe," he said.
Legolas smiled over his shoulder and moved to the cupboard in question.
"Apricots, exactly what I am craving," he said. He ducked down to
search its contents once he had pulled the door open, offering his
companions an excellent opportunity to examine the shape and firmness
of his rear end when his tunic rode up in the back.
"Yes," murmured Merry, eyes glued to the inviting vision of Legolas'
arse encased in the soft, skin hugging leggings, "I am having cravings,
too."
The elf soon found the jar requested and also discovered a container of
blackberry jam. These he carried to the table while Pip hunted for
spoons and Merry poured them each a mug of cold, frothy milk. They
settled on benches at the table and Legolas served them, taking up the
lembas and smearing ample portions of the sticky fruit over the thin
wafers.
They munched contentedly for a few minutes and Merry was just about to
inquire about Legolas' earlier activities when a tall,
broad-shouldered, imposing blond elf strode into the kitchens,
carelessly whistling a tune. Seeing Legolas, he burst into hearty
laughter and walked over to the youth, clapping him firmly on the back.
"Ah, Legolas! I see you have spent the morning with Mirvain again. Did
you give him a thorough workout?" his booming voice good-naturedly
joked.
The Hobbits' brows went up and Pip's stifled giggle was halted when
Merry kicked his ankle under the table.
"Yes, Glorfindel, he will be quite content to rest quietly for the
remainder of the day," answered Legolas warmly.
"From the looks of you, he is not the only one who is wearied. You are
positively a shambles, Pen-neth." The mighty Balrog slayer reached out
and tousled his fingers through Legolas' golden tangles, eliciting soft
laughter from the young elf.
"You are right. I am exhausted as well, but in a most pleasing way."
This time it was Merry who snickered and Pip barely retained a snort,
swallowing so it came back out sounding like a rude burp. The elves
looked at the small folk with confused indulgence.
"Do not let these Hobbits drag you into any adventures, then," the Hero
of Gondolin warned. "You have duties to see to later, do not forget. I
expect you to be well-rested and ready for me this afternoon." So
saying, the elda grabbed an apple and a bottle of cider and strode out
of the kitchens toward the main house.
"I will be prepared," Legolas called after him merrily and resumed
eating. The lembas did not satisfy him, however, and he soon rose and
snatched an apple from the barrel-full by the door and returned to his
spot across from the Hobbits.
"So, you were with Mirvain this morning?" queried Merry, and Legolas
nodded, his mouth too full of fruit to speak.
"I heard you are quite devoted to him, seeking his company before all
others' whenever you arrive in Imladris?" commented Pippin.
At this remark Legolas looked surprised; he did not think anyone
noticed where he went when he was in Rivendell, or that his actions
warranted discussion such that folk he had never met had already heard
of him.
"That is true. I long for the wild abandon of our morning rides. I
cannot be so carefree among the trees of my homeland. How did you know
that?"
"Oh, Gandalf was talking about it," Pippin responded nonchalantly. "But
why, since you are so close, does Mirvain remain here and you in the
Woodland Realm? Wouldn't it be better for you to move here? I'm sure
Elrond would approve."
"Why, I could never leave my homeland! I am needed there with all the
troubles we face from Dol Guldur."
"Well, then, let Mirvain go with you to reside in the Woodland realm."
suggested Merry.
"Oh! That is a lovely thought, but Mirvain does not belong to me. He is
Glorfindel's favourite stud and he would never part with him."
Merry choked and began coughing violently upon hearing this revelation
having inhaled a gasping breath while his mouth was filled with lembas.
Pip began thumping him soundly on the back and poor Legolas jumped up
in alarm and ran around to them, kneeling by the Hobbit's side as he
peered from one to the other.
"Is he all right?" he asked Pip.
"Aye," Merry rasped out as he finally cleared his windpipe. "I just
swallowed wrong, Master Legolas. Please do not be concerned about me.
Sit down again and finish your meal, please," he pleaded.
Legolas straddled the bench next to Merry and quietly watched the pair
as he took another bite of the jam-coated way-bread.
"What," he began and stopped as a light flush crept into his fair
cheeks. "What did Gandalf say about me?" he finally asked,
absentmindedly running one hand through his wild mane as the other
tugged at his open tunic. He was very unnerved by the meeting with the
famous Maia that morning, for he had hoped to be more formally attired
before presenting himself for the wizard's approval.
Pippin noticed the elf's unconsciously anxious movements and chortled
in a distinctly slimy sort of way that made Legolas look up sharply and
blush darker.
It was just as he feared; Mithrandir must have found his dishevelled
appearance and lack of finesse appalling. The Istar must think him a
complete rustic, and when he learned the news Legolas brought, well;
there was no hole secret enough to crawl into to escape the angry
disgust the wizard would direct upon him.
"He said you were delightful, Legolas," blurted Merry, for he was more
sensitive than Pip and felt badly for the elf's obvious embarrassment,
even if he completely misinterpreted the cause for it.
"Did he?" Legolas' hopeful tones were heart wrenching.
"Aye, and he also said he was quite pleased with your demonstration."
added Pippin with less compassion and more lurid glee. Merry's foot
found his cousin's shin this time.
A small frown creased the young elf's brow, for he did not understand
what Pippin was implying with his lightly sarcastic tone. Elrond had
talked Legolas into shooting a few targets for Mithrandir's
edification. He had been tired and had to borrow a weapon from one of
the Imladrian archers, since his own bow was in his rooms. The results
had not been perfect, but neither had he missed a single bull's eye. He
sighed and his shoulders slumped a little.
"I know my aim was a bit to the left and my release was slow, but I had
ridden hard through the night and the dawn and was weary already," he
mumbled dejectedly as he rose from the bench. "I will leave you two
good folk now and take to the baths. I was on Mirvain's back all
morning and have yet to get myself cleaned up. Namarie, mellyn nin," he
said with hollow cheeriness as he made his way toward the main house.
"Namarie, Legolas," called Merry.
"Aye, rest well," said Pippin.
As Legolas passed through the entrance he met Lindir on his way out and
bowed politely aside to let the older elf go first. The Wood Elf
thought he detected the faintest hint of a disapproving sniff as the
minstrel swept by and hurried on his way. Legolas proceeded into the
house with the unpleasant sensation of being watched and glanced back
to find Lindir glaring at him with undisguised scorn.
Taken aback, the young elf gasped and nearly ran to his rooms, overcome
with the fear that everyone in Elrond's home must know the wizard's
poor opinion of him, Merry's reassurances notwithstanding.
Once the sylvan youth had disappeared inside the passageways of the
main house, Lindir turned to continue on his way. He took no more than
two steps, however, before halting, a sly grin curving up the corners
of his lips. The Hobbits' subdued voices were audibly distinct to any
elf in a ten-meter radius, and the singer paused to eavesdrop.
"Can you believe it?" giggled Pip. "They certainly grow them wild and
wanton in the Woodland Realm."
"I don't know what to think, Pip. Legolas looked upset when he left,"
rejoined Merry.
"Nay, he was just tired. By the Old Took, I know I would be if I had
been up all night bedding 'Glorfindel's favourite stud'."
Out in the little courtyard garden dividing the cookhouse from the
mansion, the minstrel's jaws gaped wide and he had to cover the gulf
quickly with his hand to muffle the gasp of shocked surprise that would
have alerted the Halflings to his presence.
"Maybe. I just think something is wrong."
"Oh, I agree; it is very wrong, in a very funny and scandalous way.
What do you suppose his 'duties' with Glorfindel are, eh? The Balrog
slayer wants him well rested and prepared. Do you suppose he beds them
both, to prevent jealousy?" Pip burbled excitedly.
That was quite enough for Lindir. The minstrel of Lord Elrond's court
had followed the Hobbits to learn precisely who the Wood Elf's lover
was, and now had all the facts he needed. After all, everyone in
Imladris knew that 'Glorfindel's stud' was the Balrog slayer's pet name
for his paramour. And everyone in Imladris knew that Glorfindel's beau
was Elrohir, youngest twin of Lord Elrond's twin sons.
Well, everyone except the Hobbits, Legolas, and Lord Elrond, that is.
Lindir turned and hurried back into the house, eager to share this knew
information.
"That is too outrageous. How could he just go from one to the other
like that?" Merry shook his head, not really finding the situation
funny anymore.
"Maybe that's the price he pays for sharing 'Glorfindel's favourite
stud'. And who says he goes from one to the other; maybe he takes them
both on at once," Pip snickered. "I still can't believe he allowed
Elrond and Gandalf to watch them. Legolas is so beautiful! Can you
imagine what he looks like naked, Merry? Wonder if we can get him to
let us know the next time he wants to have sex on the lawn." Pippin was
thoroughly enjoying his erotic mental imagery.
"Pip! I think he felt pressured to do it, what with Elrond asking and
all. I fear he is regretting it now."
"Oh, Merry. Didn't you hear him? His only regret is that he might not
have performed as well as he would when fully rested. He obviously has
no moral reservations about public displays of affection."
"Well, I would like to see this other elf and find out how he is
holding up."
"Excellent idea! I very much want to have a look at 'Glorfindel's
stud'." Pippin found the nickname absolutely hilarious and seemed to
enjoy saying it very much.
Just as the Hobbits were cleaning up their snack debris, the bright
rectangle of the open doorway momentarily darkened with the bulk of two
elves, male and female. They carried large armloads of apple wood and
both nodded politely to the guests as they moved over to the hearth.
Merry and Pippin knew them well, they were Tegilbor [Caligraphist] and
Bessain [Female bread-giver], two of the chefs.
"Oh, Tegilbor. What is that wonderful sauce you are making?" thrilled
Merry, hoping for an invitation to sample it and his wish was fulfilled.
"It is a recipe I learned from one of the Rohan captains who were here
last winter, Merry. It is very tangy and made mostly with tomatoes,
onions, mushrooms, and spice. Taste it and see if it is hearty enough,"
the chef laughed as the Halfling scurried over to the bubbling pot and
dipped in the offered spoon.
While his cousin blew on the boiling sauce, Pippin approached Bessain
and helped her as she neatly stacked the wood on the hearth.
"Bessain, I am sure you must be acquainted with everyone in Imladris,
for you make the best lembas ever," he said courteously, and the cook
smiled kindly at the praise. "I was wondering if you might know where
we can find Mirvain?"
"Mirvain?" Bessain's brows quirked in surprised confusion. "I suppose
you might try the stables."
"Oh ho! You two best watch out, now. Mirvain does not have so generous
a nature as some. He only tolerates the touch of Glorfindel, and that
young Wood Elf, Legolas," warned Tegilbor.
"Thank you," said Merry, "We will be careful; and the sauce is
excellent," and with these words the two friends turned and hurried out
behind the cookhouse heading for the paddocks, having completely
forgotten all about Sam's snack.