Breakdown
"We know this story," said Elrohir."Aye. Thranduil fell in love with Ada," said Elladan.
"Erestor fell in love with the then Prince of Greenwood."
"It was war; nobody was thinking straight. Ada thought it might be fun to have a threesome."
"But Erestor had real feelings for Thranduil and it hurt to share."
"So Ada dropped Thranduil since he didn't really care anyway."
"Stupidly assuming Thranduil would just stick with Erestor."
"But he didn't. He broke things off and left, humiliated and broken-hearted."
"Which then left Erestor alone and broken-hearted, but he refused to follow because of that oath of allegiance to the House of Eärendil."
"Plus he's got his pride, so that's where it ended."
"But obviously Thranduil's been nursing this hatred against Ada and Erestor a long time and now he's sent Legolas here to finish things."
"So we need to get back in there before those Assassins regain their strength!" Elrohir concluded, flailing his arms for emphasis.
The brothers had recited the abbreviated history with lots of arm flailing and many unsuccessful attempts to dodge around Glorfindel. The expression of irritation on his face now hinted of another ear-cuffing and they ducked at just the right second so the Balrog-slayer's palms connected in a thunderous clap instead.
"All right, I suppose that ridiculously biased account of the facts isn't your fault," he mused, rubbing his stinging hands on his thighs. "You weren't there and this is what you've been told. It's complete drivel. It wasn't like that at all."
"Oh? Well, you weren't there either so how could you know?" challenged Elladan.
"Oropher told me about it and he was there."
"Oropher?" the brothers exclaimed together and stopped dead on the path. All through the arguing Glorfindel had been shoving them along toward the house and by this time they were in the east courtyard.
"Aye. Oropher and I got to be friends in Mandos, but he was so guilt-ridden over that death-bed promise he forced from Thranduil that he couldn't begin to heal. Once in Mandos, the ramifications of one's actions become crystal clear. He never meant to cause his son so much pain. So, I talked it over with Námo and Manwë and agreed to come back and serve the House of Eärendil. That way Erestor would be free to rescind his oath since Elrond would have another protector."
"I see," nodded Elrohir sceptically.
"Well, I don't. What death-bed promise?" asked Elladan.
"Yes, and if that's all true why does Erestor remain here?" Elrohir added.
"Aye, he remains. The noble Assassin of Sirion wouldn't dishonour Thranduil's wife by showing up to become her rival. Besides, he has his pride and would not accept being what amounts to the King's catamite, no matter how much they love each other."
"Right. So, the marriage was a sham for all that Thranduil and his wife produced eight children?" Elrohir snorted in derision. "Please, anyone going at it that much is either really committed to increasing the population or quite enjoys the procedure involved in so doing."
"They needed a son," said Glorfindel. "That was the promise Oropher demanded: a son and heir for Thranduil, for Greenwood. Took them a lot of tries to get Legolas."
"Wow, lots of tries."
"What's it been, around 2500 solar years or something?"
"More. That's real filial respect, indeed, to keep a promise with such a difficult and abhorrent requirement."
"My, wasn't Thranduil a good boy."
"Uh-huh. And the wife just went along with that, knowing Thranduil really loved Erestor?" Elladan's mocking remarks earned him a harsh slap from the Balrog-slayer. "Hey!"
"Mind you insolent tongues!" admonished Glorfindel and gave Elrohir a slap for good measure, not wanting to favour one over the other, especially when they were being equally obnoxious, and ignored the resultant cry of outrage. "You should not make light of the situation. Have you forgotten what you learned of history? It is not for you to judge the motives of the noble Lady. Nor is it right to fault Thranduil for trying to be a good husband and father.
"And, no, Thranduil's no assassin but Oropher was. Runs in the bloodlines. Why do you think he would attempt such a fool-hardy charge against the Black Gates with a handful of archers, no armour, and no support from the so-called Last Alliance? He figured if he could get to Sauron he'd finish it all right then and there. But Sauron's no Blarog, you know, and Oropher was killed instead, along with his entire family save Thranduil."
"Sorry, it just hard to believe."
"Aye, and why would Oropher demand such a thing?"
"He just wanted to salvage what was left. He just wanted Thranduil to go home and heal the forest, mend the riven souls of the woodland people, be a good King, have a family and be happy. What father wouldn't want to save his last child? What King wouldn't hope to preserve his lands and people? So he demanded that last promise from Thranduil. What son would dare dishonour such a pledge? Would you?"
"Valar! I guess not. We didn't know any of this stuff."
"Aye, that's terrible. Nasty business, war."
It was a riveting tale and the Twins did indeed feel new respect for the Elven Kings, past and present. They weren't convinced yet, but deemed the love triangle more complicated than they'd realised. They deemed, though, that if they didn't understand it clearly then Legolas probably didn't either. Glorfindel hadn't refuted their description of the way things between Erestor, Thranduil, and their Adar ended. He'd said nothing about why the Wood Elf was here. Legolas could still be acting on his father's behalf if not at his behest. The Mirkwood Assassin remained the principal candidate to fill the villain's role.
They were about to expound on this theme when a horrific series of shrieks and blood-curdling screams issued from the house. The brothers jumped in unison and Glorfindel charged past them. They followed and all three barrelled into the house chasing the unholy cacophony. It seemed to be coming from the conservatory and if their ears could be trusted a fourth kin-slaying must be in progress. Glorfindel's knife was in his hand and the brothers had their daggers drawn. Servants leaped aside as they came running and the trio burst into the music room to find Lindir writhing about, careening into furniture and trampling potted plants, revolving in a hideously bewildering dance for all the world as if he was trying to fight off a horde of fiendish demons with imaginary long knives, though the room was empty save for him and Faelon, cowering in the corner whimpering, hands over his eyes.
"What in bloody Mordor?" shouted Glorfindel, gaping at the gyrating, caterwauling minstrel.
"He's gone mad!" gasped Elrohir.
"He wouldn't listen to me," Faelon whispered. "I told him it was poison!"
"Poison!" exclaimed Glorfindel and the twins together. As one they put up their weapons and advanced upon the singer. It took all three to subdue him and he never stopped raving and howling and fighting them. They were awfully glad he didn't have a real sword and carted him off to the infirmary, Faelon trailing along in dejected misery. With the excitement over, the rest of the staff returned to their chores and everything quieted down.
Now, back in the spa, Legolas' keen ears picked up the horrifying shouts and at once he became fully alert. He leaped up from the bench and snatched up Elrond's discarded leggings, pulling them on and cinching them up with the lore-master's silken breech-clout since he was much the more slender ellon.
"Legolas?" Elrond looked up from the pool where he was soaking. "What is amiss?"
"Trouble," intoned the Assassin of Imladris. "Stay here and I will see to it." He raced from the sauna, disregarding Elrond's protests, and promptly dropped into High Stealth, which with Vilya on his hand meant he was virtually invisible, and slunk unobserved through the grounds and into the house.
Elrond climbed out of the water and stood dripping on the floor, hands on hips, scowling at what remained of his garments: a shirt, some hose and shoes, and a tunic. His choices were limited to remaining in the spa or going out with his shirt substituting for a loin cloth, a most undignified aspect for the Lord of the Realm to present. Legolas, he decided, would come back and report on the situation, bringing the pants with him, and so Elrond elected to wait.
It proved to be a very long wait.
Legolas accurately tracked the noise to the conservatory and arrived in time to see Glorfindel and the Twins dragging the screaming minstrel away. Erestor's secretary was desperately trying to make sure the Lords understood that he'd done everything possible to stop Lindir and he was in no way at fault for what had happened. They left, taking absolutely no notice of Legolas, which he found odd, but he decided to remain and survey the mayhem, hoping to find a clue to the singer's collapse. Few of the furnishings remained unscathed but a table and two chairs in one alcove stood intact. Before he could get to them, a pair of elves came in to start tidying up. One almost walked right into him but he leaped aside just in time and it was then he realised the added benefit Vilya provided. Previously unimaginable possibilities sprang to mind but he set them aside to listen to the servants' gossip.
"What was all the fuss?" asked one.
"Not sure; Lindir's gone mad, it seems."
"Pshaw! Always been mad."
"Nay, he was fine until the tryst with Glorfindel."
"Ah, I heard about that."
"So has everyone else and the consequent scandal has pushed him over the edge. Lindir drank poison."
"No!"
This last exchange was enough to spur Legolas to indignant affront on Lindir's behalf. He silently vowed retribution upon Glorfindel and made a List of things that were going to have to change in the Last Homely House as soon as he took over. Surly Assassin though his mentor was, Erestor appeared to have let things slip a bit. First things first: he must save the fair minstrel. Upon the table were two goblets and a flagon of wine, but only one glass held any of the amber fluid. Legolas manoeuvred around the gossiping servants to get to it and dipped in his finger, tasting the residue. At once his eyes expanded in horror and he turned aside and spat. The servants startled and peered at the icky blob of mucus on the floor in dread.
"Did you just…?"
"You know I didn't."
At that moment Legolas snatched up the glass and hurried away to the laboratory, but from the servants' perspective the goblet levitated of its own accord and then zipped through the air and right out of the room. They ran in terror, ranting about demons and unhoused feär haunting the music room. Lindir had not attempted suicide after all, they hollered. He'd been possessed.
As for Legolas, he and Elrond's assistant worked frantically to prepare a remedy for the effects created by the compound Lindir had ingested. It didn't take very long and soon they hastened to the House of Healing where the poor minstrel was tied to one of the beds as the confounded healers tried to figure out what poison he'd taken and why. Faelon, convinced his friend was dying, was reduced to tears of wailing misery and could only repeat that he didn't know, he didn't know, it was all a mistake; this despite his fear of Glorfindel who had both hands securely about his neck and was shaking him the way he would an orc as he shouted over and over 'Why did he do it? What did he swallow?'
Of course, he wouldn't bother asking an orc anything like that at all; he'd just throttle it quickly, so Glorfindel wasn't actually shaking Faelon as he would an orc. He was shaking Faelon more the way a person might if he was furiously afraid that someone he very much cared about had tried to kill himself.
The Twins were standing hunched together in the corner, sad-eyed and misty, no doubt silently reminiscing over the good times they'd had with Lindir and how they would miss him. Surely they were having pangs of conscience, but they were most definitely having pangs of dread over their fates should the singer actually perish. Sooner or later, their Adar would decide their cavalier attitude toward Lindir's feelings was responsible for this break-down, especially since they had only just revealed to him that Everybody knew about the affair. They were debating which of the elven realms, if any, would be safe to hide in for the next few decades or whether it would be wiser to withdraw incognito to the wilds of Eriador and blend in with the Rangers.
Erestor paced, eyes on the floor, scowling in bewildered dismay, hands buried in the pockets of his brief House-of-Healing gown, and showing far more of his noble hind quarters than he was wont to do in public. It was the last thing on his mind. No one, it seemed, had realised just how high-strung the fair minstrel was or how distraught he had become of late. Occasionally, the Assassin of Sirion turned a narrowed, calculating eye upon the Balrog-slayer, wondering if perhaps he had something to do with it all. Lindir had a bit of a crush for Glorfindel and Everyone on the estate was talking about the recent tryst between them. Yet, it wasn't like the Hero of Gondolin to engage in meaningless one-day dalliances. Erestor's glare intensified and shifted to the sons of Elrond.
Into this strained and agitated scene walked Legolas (still in High Stealth mode) and the assistant. He could see the prince perfectly well, since he knew he was there, and at once grabbed the apparently floating vial of antidote from his hand before anyone noticed it.
"Erestor," he called, "this is the cure. Make him drink it and the symptoms should subside almost at once. He'll be exhausted and in need of rest and care, but no lasting harm will befall him."
"Thank you, mellon!" gushed Glorfindel, bounding over and taking the vial. He didn't wait for the healers' help but went at once and forced the potion down Lindir's throat. The thrashing and incoherent bellowing dwindled away into trembling and vaguely comprehensible whimpering. He seemed to be saying 'Ai Valar, flying flaming monkeys' over and over as he clutched Glorfindel's hand.
"Daro!" shouted the Twins together and much too late. "You cannot trust him! He's in league with Legolas!"
"What do you mean, 'in league'?" demanded Erestor.
"You hardly need to make it sound so sinister," sniffed the assistant, arms crossed as he drew himself up. "Legolas is my prince; of course I would support him in any cause."
"You hear? He admits it!" shouted Elladan, pointing from across the room.
"I've never denied it," the exasperated ellon countered. "That doesn't mean I am unworthy of trust; I am no spy and certainly would not harm Lindir. I have served Lord Elrond well despite his somewhat bullying demeanour. Allowances had to be made, under the circumstances."
"Ai Valar," groaned Glorfindel; he hadn't had the chance to finish correcting the brothers' misguided interpretation of the facts.
"You have all permitted this snake within the household, a spy acting for Thranduil's Golden Assassin," continued Elrohir, "and now they have attacked Lindir."
"No doubt they were testing the vile poison on him to be sure it works before administering it to Ada."
"And probably you, too, Erestor."
"We know all about Thranduil's unrequited love for Ada and the callous way he used and then deserted our kinsman."
"What?!" Erestor roared, face livid in fury, ready to pounce.
"That is preposterous!" shouted the insulted assistant.
"Daro!" shouted Legolas' disembodied voice and everyone jumped except the assistant, of course. "Faelon, will you not speak and clear up this misunderstanding?"
The poor secretary was gaping in goggle-eyed terror at the empty space from which the Wood Elf's unmistakable voice arose. It was just too much for one day; first the Twins threatened to kill him, Erestor was sure to fire him, Lindir's foolish scheme turned to tragedy, and now the Prince of Greenwood was haunting the valley in spirit form, issuing orders. Faelon fainted again.
"Sorcery!" shouted Elladan.
"Avarin Magic!" cried Elrohir.
Together they traced a series of protective symbols in the air before them, including the Star of Eärendil, the Divine Behind (also known as Eru's Arse (because it is sacrilege to attempt describing the face of God)), and the powerful AAP (Amath od Alnín Prestad (Shield of Not-my-Trouble: SEP Field*)).
Erestor, though surprised and more than a little concerned, realised at once what was up and calmed down. "Legolas, come out of High Stealth," he commanded and the Assassin of Imladris obeyed his mentor at once.
"I think it is time we got to the root of the problem," Erestor continued and turned to the brothers. "We do not need Faelon to vouch for this ellon's integrity. I have known him for years and assure you he is no threat to myself, your father, or anyone else. Legolas is not here to avenge his father, for I was neither used nor abandoned by Thranduil. No more was he in love with Elrond."
"Nay, Erestor, you have been blinded by Legolas' exceptionally well-proportioned physique and daring air…"
"…by eyes as blue as the heavens, and lustrous, golden hair…"
"…by skin like cream and nipples plump enough for a babe to suck…"
"…genitalia that would make a stallion proud and a tight round arse we'd love to fuck," they chorused, "except he's an assassin. Think! Is there anyone else in all Arda you should fear?"
A long silence followed this frenetic exposition. The Twins remained in their corner poised for a swift exit should either assassin's temper explode. The healers were busy pretending to examine Lindir while remaining focused on the developing drama. It wasn't often they were privy to such titillating events. Glorfindel was not about to leave the singer's side and was less interested in the troubles between the Imladrian nobles and the Mirkwood prince than Lindir's unstable mental faculties. Faelon remained insensible on the floor. Legolas was caught between preening appreciation, embarrassment, and outrage. Erestor's wrath was not so hampered and he was only holding back by reminding himself that these were Elrond and Celebrian's sons and they would never forgive him if he harmed them.
"Setting aside those crude, lewd remarks about our noble guest, but only, I assure you, for the moment," he growled, "just where did you get this absurd idea that Thranduil is broken-hearted over your father?"
"From Ada, of course," the Twins answered.
"You lie!" shouted Legolas, all flattery forgotten. "Elrond would never tell you something so…so wrong. It is my Ada who ended the affair because he'd met his soul-mate. Nobody's heart was broken, and I am not trying to seuce Erestor; he's like a second father to me."
"True," Erestor laid a restraining hand on Legolas' arm. "Yet I see they believe what they say. Elladan, Elrohir, exactly when did your father tell you this?"
"Oh, well," the Twins' faces became red, "he didn't actually tell us. We found out when were young, before Arwen was born…"
"…we overheard an argument between Ada and Nana."
"She'd found something, letters from Thranduil to Ada."
"So Ada had to explain about the affair all those years ago. He told her he hadn't ended it very neatly and felt bad about it, but that Thranduil was nothing to him."
"Ah," said Glorfindel sadly, "all becomes clear."
"Indeed," said the assistant, frowning, but not in an angry or unkind manner. It was just such an ugly mess and he didn't like Legolas being dragged into it. "He was protecting her, I suppose."
"So your father doesn't actually know you were eavesdropping?" queried Erestor.
"Of course not," the Twins answered.
"I love Elrond like a brother, but everything he told your Nana is false," said Erestor. "I'll tell you what really happened, but you need to sober up first." He crossed the room and ushered the brothers out much as Glorfindel had done before, only this time there were no protests. He sent Legolas a brief glance, enough to communicate that words must be traded between them, too, ere this was settled.
*- If you do not know what an SEP field is, don't panic. Just google it or buy Douglas Adams - Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, all five.
TBC