Leben-ar-Pae Peth: Mellyn o Cyth? (Part Fifteen: Friends or Enemies?)

"An elf of good standing, honourable and true-hearted, highly placed among the last of the great House of the Golden Flower. You may be aware that Lord Glorfindel has a sister, Aelluin."

The words were carefully enunciated as if speaking the syllables presented a hazard, as if the sounds themselves were a poison that might taint Galdor's lips before dissipating within the ambient snap and sizzle of the kindled fire. The elder watched to see what effect they produced upon Thranduil, fearing something in his tone, his pitch, or his stance would reveal the subterfuge. The King's brow furrowed in a vague frown while he searched his memory for the named elf and for several seconds he said nothing. Then his scowl deepened and Galdor was certain the vague falsehood would be challenged. The Sadron held firm and waited.

"Nay, I have never heard that name before, I am sure of it."

"I am not entirely surprised by this. Not many have met the Lady Aelluin, even in Imladris. Few are the number who know of Glorfindel's sibling; she dislikes the attention her brother's renown invites. Of his reputation in other matters of his life she likewise prefers to remain distant."

"I see. Does Aelluin disprove the union between her brother and Elrond's kinsman?"

"Aye, she considered them an ill-favoured couple and warned Glorfindel the reasons for the bond were not sufficient to grant him happiness." Now none of this was known to Galdor personally, for even in Gondolin he had interacted little with the Balrog Slayer's younger sister, but in as much as Glorfindel had so stated this he believed the characterisation accurate. Thus, though fraught with deceit his words rang true.

Thranduil's expression acquired a slight veneer of irritation atop his unresolved anxiety over his son's fate. "You imply she does not deplore intimacy between like partners. It is a serious issue in my realm; her attitude will find little acceptance here."

"I would understand the reason for such strong opinions on this subject, if you could explain it. All my life have I adhered to Pâd-en-Tawar and am Sadron for my country; never has a restriction of this type been placed on elves before. Why is this different in Greenwood?" Galdor realised Thranduil would probably direct him to the Woodland realm's spiritual leader for answers, yet felt compelled to use any means to avoid the real subject.

"It has nothing to do with Pâd-en-Tawar, though the creed has incorporated the law fully. I enacted the edict at the end of the Second Age, deeming our people in danger of extinction, so few males returned from Dagorlad. For that reason only bonding between ellon and elleth was sanctioned thereafter."

"I understand the extreme conditions that prompted this decision, but the population has recovered, has it not? Why persist in enforcing a decree that alienates one segment of the citizenry from another? It can make no difference now if a small percentage of the population finds their gender more appealing than the opposite. Whatever the law may state it cannot eradicate such a basic component of an individual's identity." Galdor permitted himself a small bloom of hope, for the King did not sound as intractable as his son believed. It seemed more a matter of practicality than a moral doctrine. If Thranduil would repeal this law then Legolas need not be forced to choose between his family and his soul-mate.

"Perhaps, but the notion has taken on a life of its own and is now firmly ensconced in the religious ideas of both Sindar and silvan. Such unions are counter to the design of Iluvatar and represent a tell-tale sign of the strength of the Shadow. The Woodland folk live closer to the evil of the Dark Lord than those in other elven realms. Fear drives people to seek a cause, a place to lay blame. I am certain you have heard the same arguments in Lorien, Lord Galdor."

"I have. I would hear your own views rather than a generic apology."

"Do you seek a convert?" Thranduil laughed, a contemptuous sound lacking mirth. The King eyed his Noldorin guest shrewdly, discerning why Galdor had pushed them into this discussion "We have gone far from our topic," he said quietly and moved to take a seat, a silent motion of his hand bidding Galdor join him, "and that is something I would wish to understand from you. No more hesitation. Let us speak of my son and his Faer Hebron. You are obviously reluctant to discuss it and I would know why."

For a timeless minute the two elven nobles stared hard into each other's eyes; Thranduil determined to direct the conversation and Galdor equally determined to divert it. Yet the elder Sadron had encountered Oropher in past Ages and knew by reputation that his unyielding temperament had passed to the current ruler of Greenwood. The heir of Oropher was unlikely to be distracted again.  

"As you wish. I  cannot refute your complaint," Galdor stated flatly, dismayed but not surprised that there would be no easy resolution of the problem. He lowered his weary body into the comfortable chair, sorting out what he would offer by way of answer. The journey and the fighting had taken their toll and he wished nothing more than an end to this interrogation and a chance to bathe. "If I hesitate it is solely out of concern for Legolas. I have known him but a short time yet I have found much to admire in your youngest child. With all he has endured I would prevent further hardships. Many obstacles hinder the pair: culture, age, and spiritual beliefs among the most daunting."

"So." Thranduil sighed and pressed his fingers to his eyes a moment. "The bond was only made to reverse the extreme state of Legolas' health. For this intervention I am eternally in her debt, but I cannot see that he would appreciate pity nor would I want him to remain in a loveless union." It was not something unexpected but somehow hearing the words made the situation real for his son. Legolas deserves better.

"Nor would I," agreed the Sadron, nodding as he presented Thranduil a faint smile. "The motivation for the ritual bond, however, is not so superficial, being a combination of sympathy, similar personalities, and raw physical attraction. The elf Legolas has chosen genuinely wishes only what is best for him, but I am not yet convinced their bond will endure. If it does not then the separation shall be mutually accepted and not cause for additional grief."

"I trust you will endeavour to convince me of the truth in your assessment." Thranduil did not doubt the sincerity of Galdor's statements, yet every instinct told him the Noldo Lord was holding back. He wondered why the Sadron was unwilling to expound upon the lady, for on first hearing the match was not a poor one. What can be the cause for this reticence? He held Galdor's gaze in silent challenge.      

"I do not mean to keep you uninformed regarding Legolas' Faer Hebron and I understand your concern for your son." Galdor sighed and grimaced as he looked away into the cheerful hearth. "Yet you must know that Pâd-en-Tawar grants me this privilege in as much as Legolas himself agreed to the Guardianship. He has asked that I remain conservative in what I say of his affianced mate."

"What say you? Legolas does not want me involved?" Thranduil could not hide the note of remorse and sadness in his voice. Somewhere in the recesses of his heart, so deeply felt that he could not even admit the notion was there, he had hoped that with Calarlim gone Legolas would turn to him for guidance.

"Permit me to be frank, Lord Thranduil, though we are not close acquaintances." Galdor shifted, sitting forward to the edge of the chair. Perceiving he had found a vulnerable spot in the forbidding monarch's facade, he held the King's eyes and diligently aimed for it. "Legolas dreads earning your disfavour and thinks his choice for Faer Hebron will not meet your standards. He wishes only to be a source of pride for you and your House. I could tell you all I know of Aelluin and still not satisfy the doubts and suspicions that crowd your vision. This is no more than I would expect, for we are strangers. Therefore, go and speak with your son of these matters. Yet listen attentively to his answers and let your heart be your counsellor."

Involuntarily, Thranduil drew a sharp breath and gripped the arms of the chair tightly so intense was the expression emanating from the Noldorin elder's dark eyes. A bright spark of fear, an uneasy flash of memory ran through the ruler's mind, for once before he had been put off by his son's Guardian over the very same topic. Then as now, a nagging doubt surfaced briefly, taunting the worried father with its terrible implications. Hastily Thranduil squelched this alarming idea, assuring himself that he was imagining things and willing himself not to permit guilt to taint his perceptions of his youngest child. Then all the agitation left him and he seemed to deflate, slouching down in his seat as he averted his gaze.

"There is great divergence among the followers of your faith, Sadron, for in Greenwood one who is not an initiate may not discuss these issues with one who is." Thranduil's bitter frustration in dealing with such a restriction over the course of Legolas' life was unmistakable. "Legolas has been taught to hold his tongue and has ever done so, even when I could see he wished to reveal his mind."

"Mayhap so, yet this is not a rule specific to your kingdom. It is not one that is strictly enforced in Mithlond, however, and I would never advise an elf regarding his or her Faer Hebron without discussing it with family, especially the parents. I am his Tirn'wador now and he will find my guidance more lenient, especially since he is fully grown and there is only this one issue to resolve before my jurisdiction expires. Legolas mentioned that you did not take part in his first choosing but believes you demurred for other reasons."

"What do you mean?" Thranduil looked up warily.

"No doubt it was Calarlim who put the thought in his mind, although he may have heard it spoken of among his peers also. He told me he was sent away because you did not think any elleth here would consider him suitable to wed."

Galdor watched as Thranduil's eyes filled with anger, all the centuries of confounded plans and defrayed goals revealed in glaring gravity. If he and Calarlim had ever worked together in the raising of Legolas, it must have been a tenuous truce at best. The heat of ire faded quickly, however, replaced by a deep sorrow touched by something the wise Guardian recognised as guilty shame. Galdor had but a second to observe it, however, for Thranduil quickly trained his vision into the dancing flames. It is as Legolas believes; the father merely wishes his son did not know this.

"Why then would he desire my opinion now?" murmured the distraught father. "If he thinks I hold him so lowly in my thoughts, what use can he have for my input? Were it me, I would refuse to speak of these things as well, for it would sorely hurt my soul to believe my Adar disparaged me so."

"However low he feels himself placed within your thoughts, Legolas does not resent you for it but considers the assessment must be valid." The Sadron gave the mental equivalent of a deep inhalation, for this was the break-through he had hoped to achieve. Estë, guide my tongue that my words may open his heart. "Surely the conditions of his conception were made plain to him long ago. Given the culture among the silvans, I would be surprised were he to have any other self-perception. He is well aware that some hold his very existence to be an affront and that, as his progenitor, this ill-favour extends to you. Your son does not blame you for his circumstances, rather he holds you in the very highest esteem. Nothing more does he wish than to feel he has earned your respect.

"Go to him, Thranduil, and make him see this is not something he must acquire by bold deeds or eloquent words. Show him that you find him worthy, not because he conducts himself honourably and exhibits courage on the battlefield. Let him know that you understand his actions spring from his innate character, and that this core of his heart and soul is exemplary in your summation. This alone he needs from you; all else can be endured if he believes this one thing: his father accepts him unconditionally."

Thranduil stared at the ancient elf, amazed to find himself not only listening but hungrily devouring his insights. With a powerful surge of his heart he realised why: the Sadron's wisdom and straight-forward speech reminded him keenly of Oropher. How this foreign elf could so succinctly outline the complex emotions that lay between him and his youngest child, Thranduil could not fathom. Suddenly enlightenment blossomed and he allowed a sheepish smile to grace his lips, for of course the situation and its accompanying awkwardness between father and son were not unique.

I only think it so because I am in the centre of it. Who knows how many Galdor has similarly counselled over the Ages? And that he found reassuring, for his story was no longer a shocking revelation marking the decay of his morals but something the elder Sadron had probably heard innumerable times before.

"Le hanteän, Lord Galdor. Long it has been since I confided in anyone on so personal a matter; indeed, I have not since Lhoss' and I parted. I did not understand how greatly I required it." Accepting the silent nod of his guest in reply and saying nothing more, the King set his mouth in grim determination, rose, and strode quickly from the room.  

While Galdor endured this strange inquisition turned confession, the Balrog Slayer had an encounter of his own.  

In Thranduil's private study, Glorfindel rose to his feet the instant after Galdor stood and watched the King escort the Sadron away. Before the door closed he turned to Galion, still seated on the sofa sipping ruby wine from a crystal goblet. The steward did not seem in any hurry to leave the comfort of the King's suite and the Vanya warrior stared coldly into the openly disdainful visage. Something about this Elf just set Glorfindel's nerves on edge and he was overwhelmed with a strong desire to knock the smug expression right back into the haughty advisor's wine-stained teeth.

"Oh, eager to depart?" Galion finally queried, giving Glorfindel a thorough once over with his mocking hazel gaze. "You do seem weary and begrimed; perhaps a bath and a short respite would renew your disposition." The advisor stood and ambled toward the exit, still carrying his glass and Thranduil's decanter, which he tucked under his arm in order to open the door. "Come along, I will direct you to your rooms. They are well situated and not too difficult to locate, however the fortress is something of a maze. Mark well the route for I am not assigned as your personal valet."

"Thank you for your courtesy," Glorfindel answered tersely, thinking he would sooner be lost in the caverns a week than suffer Galion for guidance. In the interest of diplomacy, he held his tongue and followed, noting each intersection, turning, and stairway used. Yet the journey was indeed circuitous and the Vanya warrior had the distinct impression it was purposefully so. After some minutes of silent walking they stopped before an ornate set of double doors and with a frown Glorfindel recognised the open entry to the King's suite just a short ways ahead. "You have led us in a loop, why?" he demanded, not at all amused by the ridiculous antic.

"Ah, clever of you to notice that, Glorfindel, so observant. Forgive my little ruse, the King does not ordinarily like to have strangers so well acquainted with the layout of his palace. This is not your suite, however, but my apartment." Galion was chuckling through his words, not at all displeased that he had been caught at his game, and opened the doors. He proceeded inside but Glorfindel did not follow and thus presently the supercilious Elf came back to the threshold and leaned out, peering at the Balrog Slayer in puzzlement. "Are you awaiting a formal invitation? Do come in." His smile was more a challenge than a genial expression of welcome.

Not being one to run from a confrontation, and somewhat curious as to the advisor's intent, Glorfindel gave a short nod and crossed into the room. His brows lifted in surprise for the parlour was much more lavishly appointed than was the King's private study.

Galion had a fondness for deep thick carpets and so many covered the floor that no hint of the underlying rock could be detected. The walls were likewise decorated with heavy tapestries and paintings and where the stone was visible between these hangings it was lavishly carved with ornate knot-work. The light in the place was nearly too bright to bear for there were three gilded chandeliers suspended from the high ceiling and golden wall sconces evenly placed around the room. The hearth was huge and of course alight, the heat from it stifling despite the height of the grand space. Two alcoves led away from this room and from both more garishly flickering lamplight spilled.

Galion sauntered over to the fireplace and sank with an appreciative sigh into a leather armchair that was positively decadent in its softly overt comfort. "Please join me, Glorfindel." With the goblet he gestured to the matching seat opposite as he set the wine decanter on the low table in-between.

Glorfindel suppressed a small chuckle, thinking he had determined the advisor's plans, and refrained from smirking. The sly Sindarin snoop was out of his league if he hoped to pry any confidential information from Elrond's Master of the Guard. With a slight shake of his head, the Balrog Slayer declined Galion's silent offer of more wine and sat. The plush padding was indeed pleasant but he did not permit himself to relax too much, keeping a calculating eye on his host. Several seconds of quiet proceeded as it seemed neither wished to be the first to speak. Finally Glorfindel decided to advance the game to the next round and see what might transpire. "Are Galdor's quarters close by? I may wish to speak with him ere retiring for the evening."

"Your friend's rooms are not far from here and across the hallway from you own. No doubt you wish to discuss his chat with Thranduil?" Galion asked without a hint of guile.

"Yes, I admit to curiosity over the details of their conversation," Glorfindel provided a nonchalant uplift of the shoulders to accompany the words.

Galion's expression bespoke a hint of displeasure. "They will talk of Legolas, naturally, yet I wonder why you might find the woes of a young Woodland archer interesting."

Glorfindel almost smirked; Thranduil's Chief Advisor was no match for Elrond's. It was almost too easy to deflect these meagre efforts to bait him. "I am Cuthenin's friend. I do not find it strange to wonder over his fate."

"What an unlikely comrade for one of your renown." Now the butler imbued this sentence with an oily coat of suggestive implication as he arched a brow above a lopsided leer.

The Balrog Slayer remained unpurturbed. "Why so? You know little of Cuthenin to say this. He is an honourable warrior and has done well in decimating an orcish troupe bent on waylaying travellers on the North Road out of Imladris. I am pleased to have his friendship." Finally Glorfindel decided he had been on the defensive long enough and purposed to do a bit of prying himself. "And where is Cuthenin's apartment, for I would like to thank him again for his skilful deployment of that bow during the most recent battle."

"You would thank him tonight, privately, in his rooms?" Galion gave a derisive snort. He surveyed Glorfindel speculatively from over the rim of his goblet.

"Is he not permitted guests in his quarters?" Glorfindel bristled with just the right level indignation at the seneschal's insinuation of impropriety.  He was not unprepared for the steward's suspicions as Thranduil's spies were not a new addition to Imladris' court life. Surely word of his dealings with Erestor would have been reported long ago. And if not that, Rumil's stay in Elrond's realm will have been recounted by Athedreinyn to Lorien. No matter what Galion thought likely, he had no proof of any of Glorfindel's encounters. Still, all his instincts cautioned the veteran warrior to be wary. "Is Cuthenin a warrior or a child?"

"He is Thranduil's son," the note of warning in the steward's voice was unmistakable.

"This I know. I find it difficult to imagine that the King prevents his youngest from receiving visitors. Legolas is no elfling; he was entrusted with a mission to foreign lands where he would represent his people among strangers."

"His Tirn'wathel was with him."

"As his Tirn'wador is now. Tell me, are you among the followers of Pâd-en-Tawar? I am not and admit my ignorance of its rules. Is there some proscription against friendship inherent to the creed?"

Galion grimaced and sighed briefly, as if the game was now unsatisfactory, vaguely gesturing with his wineglass. "It matters not; Legolas does not have rooms here."

That was not what Glorfindel expected and he did not do well in hiding it. "Why is that? Where does he stay, then?"

"He lives where he has always dwelt, in a talan some small distance into the trees on the western side of the grounds. As to why, perhaps it is not a subject I should broach with outlanders." Galion drained his glass and set it down sharply on the table, turning his gaze away to glare into the firelight.

"If you are referring to the rumours concerning his naneth's status then no more need be said," Glorfindel growled irritably, "yet it is strange for such a prejudice to continue after the child has been accepted by his father."

"Thranduil's acceptance as you call it is not universally approved among the people here." Galion's piercing hazel eyes jabbed at Glorfindel's outspoken criticism. "Our folk place higher standards on morality than do some other elven realms. The King has been my friend for nearly two Ages yet I cannot condone his reprehensible disregard of a sacred bond. Perhaps you did not know that his wife-mate is a cousin of mine. The shameful stain he brought upon my family and the noble House of Oropher has yet to fade. That his disgraceful conduct is discussed beyond the borders of the Greenwood is mortifying; his actions cast our people as low as mortal men. As for the mother, she will dwell long in Mandos atoning for such a selfish act."   

The Balrog Slayer stared, surprised by this acrimonious outpouring and speechless for some moments after its completion. His first thought was that he was glad Legolas did not dwell within the fortress, enduring this pompous Elf's self-righteous condemnation on a regular basis. His second denounced Thranduil.  Refusing Legolas a place in his home, allowing public opinion to govern his interactions with a child of his body, such was unconscionable in the Vanya's mind and he came close to saying so. With effort he refrained from comment and merely glared into the resolute disfavour marring the advisor's aristocratic visage.

"I am aware the Elves of Imladris would not share this view," Galion added in a slightly less acidic tone. "We would not have been so scandalised had the elleth not chosen to conceive. One can overlook much when grief is involved, and even Thranduil's sons eventually came to tolerate the new role Lhoss (Whisper) played in their father's life."

"Lhoss? Is that the name of Cuthenin's naneth?" Glorfindel could not help his curiosity over this topic, for Legolas had said nothing about his mother.

"It is." Galion paused and studied his guest's face intently for several seconds, presenting the stern countenance of an Elf engaged in serious internal debate. If he was hoping the silence would prompt Glorfindel into speech, as it had before, he was disappointed. At length he gave a nearly non-existent shrug and continued. "I will satisfy your obvious inquisitiveness on this topic if you agree to do the same for me afterward."

"What is it you would know?" Glorfindel's spine stiffened involuntarily just a minute amount but otherwise he kept his discomfort over the bargain in check.

"I will only reveal that after we have satisfied your interest. Do you agree?"

"Nay; I find the terms unfair. After all, I could simply ask Legolas about Lhoss."

Galion's face dissolved into an expression of smirky, contemptuous self-assurance and he chuckled unpleasantly, low in his throat. "I suppose you could. Legolas, however, will not say one single thing about her. He will not even speak her name. No matter what you ask or what you say, he will answer not. This lesson he learned when he was very young and he is unlikely to forget it."

The Balrog Slayer did not like the implications this dire statement raised within his thoughts. He wanted very much to leave this intolerable Elf and find Cuthenin, yet he had no idea where to look. He longed to convince Legolas that nothing need be kept hidden inside any longer, now that Glorfindel was part of his life. He stared in stricken aversion at Thranduil's advisor, for his demeanour divulged an inordinately strong reaction to a cousin's replacement by a paramour. Glorfindel was left wondering how Galion could have come to detest Legolas so. "What is this about?" he demanded abruptly.

The steward's brows arched in bewilderment. "An interesting question, to be sure, with many answers. At present we are negotiating an exchange of information. You want to know of Legolas' antecedents while I have a query or two of my own."

"Regarding Legolas' stay in Imladris?"

"Nay, well, in a sense but not exactly that. Come now, I weary of this little contest. Either we will speak together or sit and enjoy the rest of this fine vintage in companionable quietude, Glorfindel. I leave the choice to you."

Glorfindel pondered his options. On the one hand, he felt strongly that he should go to Legolas and ask of these things. Yet, mayhap it was insensitive to bring it up, considering Calarlim's recent demise. Given the deep dread Cuthenin revealed over holding his father's House up to ridicule or scorn, would it be indelicate to speak of the King's consort at all? Perhaps he should not mention any of these things, letting Legolas decide when or even if the subject should be addressed. Still, in spite of himself Glorfindel wanted to know about Lhoss, feeling he could not succour Cuthenin properly if he did not understand the basis for the archer's mindset. Ultimately his curiosity won out. "Tell me of Lhoss and I will resolve your questions so long as they do not require me to betray my Lord or break a pledge of confidence."

"Excellent! We have an accord, then." Galion's smile was victoriously knowing and made the Balrog Slayer shift slightly in his chair. He gave a short nod in reply and the steward began the tale.

"Lhoss was a fixture in our lives since the day Oropher led his people under the eaves of the forest. Thranduil's law-sister was due to birth her second child and the journey had taxed her strength, causing an early delivery. Lhoss volunteered to be her aide, making certain she did not strain herself and helping to watch over the fragile babe. Her knowledge of herb-lore and her willingness to help was appreciated by the healers and the royal family alike. She became the child's caretaker and gradually took on all the younglings in Oropher's House. When the mighty underground fortress was completed, she was given an apartment of her own.

"Becoming the best of friends to Thranduil's wife, Lhoss was there for the birth of both their sons, and for the grandchildren and great-grandchildren that followed. The silvan elleth was nearly as close as a blood relative, so greatly did we trust and depend on her. More than a maid or servant or even a nanny, Lhoss was an emissary to her people, enabling the silvans to learn and accept many of the Sindarin ways. Likewise, through her the Sindarin folk learned the customs of the forest dwellers and adapted as best they could to this more basic lifestyle. We never suspected in those days what tragedy she would inflict upon us. Within a year of my cousin's death she had become the King's mistress."

Glorfindel was heartsick to hear Legolas' creation so harshly termed and wondered how it must have been to grow up under such a stigma. "I am sorry for your family's grief. The House of Oropher has endured great loss and hardship also. Yet Cuthenin is nothing but a credit to both his silvan and Sindarin heritage. Mayhap new life is a sign of new hope for the Greenwood and her people."

"I am not so certain that is so. Already six immortal lives have ended because he was born."

"There were but five all told and while no life lost is a small thing, still in the Woodland realm the Darkening has claimed uncounted others under the leadership of experienced warriors many Ages older than Cuthenin."

"I include Lhoss herself in the count."

Glorfindel was taken aback and physically reacted, his stomach giving a squeamish roll to hear the death of his mother laid at Legolas' feet. Do others here feel this way? The concept was so awful his mind refused to believe Galion was serious and he could do nothing but shake his head and peer in silence at the steward.

Galion, pleased by this lack of a verbal response, frowned to cover it and continued his thoughts. "Legolas is a capable enough archer, that I do not contest, but not up to the challenge of leadership. It was a mistake for Thranduil to insist on having him trained for such responsibilities."

"Nay, it is the burden of anyone in command to face the loss of soldiers when the enemy is engaged. I questioned him closely about the incidents; Cuthenin did all that was reasonable in the situations faced. He is not the cause for the Orc attacks that stole those lives. And he is wholly innocent of his naneth's fate."

"Ah, but that is just where many would disagree with you. Within Pâd-en-Tawar what Lhoss did was a grievous sin, for it reduced the precious gift of renewing life to nothing more than a greedy personal want fulfilled. She did not have Thranduil's consent to produce a child with his seed. It was beyond irresponsible; it signified the taint of the Shadow. A child created thus is considered marked by evil and shunned. Even her own people tried to convince her to leave for Eldamar, taking her shame and disgrace with her."

"That cannot be right," Glorfindel denied emphatically. "I witnessed the silvan warriors' reaction to Cuthenin's return. They were agitated over the deaths but not repulsed by his presence."

"Aye, there has been quite a buzz over Úcaul Annaur. The silvans will forgive much for that action and because of the weight of his grief upon Calarlim's death. They will see it as a sort of balance against the troubles Cuthenin brought them. Of course, Igeredir was there also and that makes all the difference. He and Inarthan have become very attached to their unexpected sibling and do not allow anyone to accost or accuse Cuthenin while he is in their presence. Their children and grandchildren are protective also, for the most part, and so Cuthenin is shielded from the more unpleasant opinions of the majority."

"Nay, you are mistaken. You were not there to see him fighting against Greenwood's foes; you underestimate the respect his skill has earned him among the warriors. Why should he be made to bear the enmity of his people when he is guiltless of any wrong? Whatever errors his parents may have made, Cuthenin is making his own place in the world and it is not one of dishonour," Glorfindel insisted.

Galion shrugged, "Perhaps, yet Greenwood will never be a comfortable haven for him."

Silence fell between them as each considered the conversation. Glorfindel could not help a slight uplift of spirit, for if the Woodland Realm was less than warm toward Legolas then mayhap leaving it permanently would not be so great a hardship for the archer. In light of Thranduil's prohibition of a union such as theirs, this was no slight concern.

As for Galion, he needed a moment to collect himself before beginning his inquiries. In fact, he needed more than time; he needed another serving of the pleasing wine and helped himself. A long swallow preceded his first question.

"I wonder if you will hold to our bargain," he began softly to himself, watching guardedly as Glorfindel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. With a deep breath Galion came right to the point. "Do you intend to wait out the full year before claiming your reward for saving Legolas?"

Glorfindel mastered his startlement over this bold interrogative quickly yet there could be no doubt he had failed to hide it entirely. He remained still as he scrutinised the advisor's cool, triumphant expression. Galion had it all figured out and for that Glorfindel gave the steward his grudging admiration. Not so glib of tongue as Erestor but no dullard either. Now was not the time to break faith with Cuthenin, however. There was no proof to back the seneschal's beliefs and the Balrog Slayer had no intention of supplying any. A rash reply would point too plainly to their hidden soul-bond, revealing the depth of his feeling to this odious seneschal. He crossed his arms firmly over his chest and lifted his brows. "You will have to be specific; I will not guess at your meaning."

"Ah, such admirable scruples! I admit to surprise, for your reputation in such personal areas does not support such a strong character."

"Have a care, seneschal, for I am not wont to tolerate such bald insults placidly." Glorfindel was on his feet, tight fists terminating arms stiffly bent at waist level, face etched in stony fury.

Galion rose also and gave a gloating half bow. "Quite right; my apologies. I only hoped to inform you that the truth is already out. This attempt at secrecy is entirely unnecessary and, if I might say, just a bit ludicrous."

"You will need to state this truth plainly before I may concur or dispute with you."

"Must I? Come now, I see no need to be crude…"

"Yet your words belie you."

"Indeed! My words divulge what my eye perceives. Let me present it from another view-point: mayhap I can help to preserve this carefully guarded secret. I am fond of Legolas, have always been so. It is not my wish to see him subjected to the shame of public banishment. Nor would I wish him to fade from grief, as he surely must if his unusual predisposition causes his father's House to be overthrown."

Glorfindel's fingers itched to wrap themselves around the chestnut-haired ellon's throat and throttle the life from his vile heart. With great effort he remained silent, permitting his fearsome glower to transmit his smouldering wrath.

"I do know how to hold my tongue, you see, and am more than willing to do so provided some minor concessions are granted."

Still the Balrog Slayer stood motionless and no sound passed his lips, yet his menace grew apace with each passing instant, the potential for disaster increasing accordingly. He reminded himself that Galion had only hearsay and supposition regarding his lifestyle. Yet Legolas has lived under his scrutiny all his life. I had no difficulty discerning Cuthenin's interest in me; the seneschal has no doubt observed tell-tale signs in abundance over the course of years. Would the advisor reveal these indications to Thranduil? Would not the King's fall from power result in Galion's loss of prestige and position also? He is bluffing, Glorfindel visibly relaxed and smiled, a vicious twist of his lips that bespoke disgust rather than agreement.

Galion grimaced, just a slight flexure of the muscles across his forehead and a faint compression of his lips. Realising the direction the warrior's thoughts must have taken, he regrouped, wordlessly berating himself for being too obvious too soon. Subtly was the key in cracking the Vanya's reserve, but that tactic was lost to him now. He would have to take a lower road.

"Yet there are others not so benevolent as I. One or two among the Council of Lords suspect Cuthenin's interest in males. They have long held resentment against Oropher's House for the massacre of kith and kin at Dagorlad. Such influential leaders would be most grateful for any information that aided their cause. Of course, Thranduil would be certain to defend his son. No doubt he would find any betrayal by his advisors a grievous wound, yet it is often so with the selfish, privileged class. Never once has he thought to apologise for the ignominy his dealings with Lhoss tendered to his wife's House.

"I am sure many folk in Imladris might not be troubled if Oropher's line was removed from authority, given the numbers of their kin lost due to his incompetence at the siege of Barad Dur. As for you, what can it matter to you who rules Greenwood? Yet Legolas would certainly be devastated were such to come about because of his twisted cravings. As Faer Hebron, you cannot help but strive to prevent that. I am sure an amicable settlement can be reached between us to ensure he never has to confront such a terrible burden of guilt and grief."

Glorfindel stared at the self-serving Elf before him, completely overwhelmed with loathing for such a creature, and fought the urge to spit in his face. The threat to betray the King he had served for two Ages fell from Galion's loquacious lips as if he were reporting a desire to have pheasant for dinner instead of venison. He wondered if Thranduil had any suspicions that his closest advisor was so duplicitous and whether he would be likely to believe it should an outlander seek to reveal the treasonous plotting. Probably not, on either count.

He concluded that the seneschal was as cold-blooded and unfeeling a creature as any Orc might be and understood better Calarlim's subterfuge regarding the phantom mate for Legolas. No matter the source of Galion's foul inducement, what he said of Legolas was true; the young warrior would be destroyed if his personal needs became the catalyst for the unseating of his father's House. With severe disgust the Balrog Slayer decided he must come to terms with the soul-less steward. Only one thing remained to be disclosed: the price for Galion's co-operation.

"What do you seek in exchange for silence regarding these unsubstantiated rumours concerning his son's preference for a mate?"

Galion inhaled and held the breath a second or two, exhaling it gradually as he sought to centre himself. He sported a chilling smile as he bent to retrieve his goblet and the decanter, pouring as he spoke, his eyes averted as he tended the task with hands that seemed to tremble. "Legolas' virginity."

For a split second Glorfindel could only gape in horrified and disbelieving outrage, unable even to form a coherent thought on the nature of the extortion, and then his rage boiled over. He lashed out with his right fist, landing a powerful blow upon the seneschal's jaw that sent the Elf reeling backwards into the chair behind him, which overturned and deposited the chestnut-haired betrayer on the floor. The decanter thumped against the carpets and splashed its blood-red contents everywhere while the wineglass remained inexplicably entrenched in Galion's fingers. The steward lay stunned for a second then let loose a sharp cry as Glorfindel advanced a step and bent low, preparing to snatch up his prey and pound him senseless.

"Baw! Daro! Far!" (No! Stop! Enough!) Galion called weakly, ineffectually throwing the glass at his nemesis and raising a hand to fend off the attack. Yet it was not this pathetic attempt at self-defence which halted his opponent.

Glorfindel stared in bewilderment at the haughty Elf crumpled on the rug, for Galion was laughing. The veteran warrior straightened and watched, wondering if perhaps the seneschal was in fact mad and all of their converse had been due to some kind of strange mental deficiency.

"Oh, that smarts terribly, Glorfindel. But you will do; you will do." Galion delicately pressed his fingers against the swelling contusion. "You have loosened two of my molars." He gazed up, amused in spite of his painful bruise, eyes alight with something like triumph. The advisor held out his hand. "Your assistance, if you please?" he said and chuckled again at the confusion filtering through the Balrog Slayer's blue eyes even as he wordlessly complied. They stood facing one another before the cheerful fire. At last Galion saw the subtle shift in colour from clear azure to steely grey as the Balrog Slayer's patience eroded. He raised both hands before him in supplication and took a step away. "Permit me to explain before you start hitting me again."

Glorfindel considered whether he should allow any more words to arise form the irritating ellon's mouth for he was not sure he could control his ire should further obscene announcements be uttered. He folded his arms over his chest, deciding he wished to know the motivation for the seneschal's bizarre behaviour, and nodded. "I will hear you but if anything more is said of abusing Legolas expect to find yourself on the ground again."

"Those are fair terms," Galion agreed. "I had to determine your reasons for agreeing to become Legolas' Faer Hebron. What I said is true; I am quite fond of Cuthenin, just not in the way I made you believe. I was his tutor, you see, when he first came under Thranduil's authority for his education at age 30. I have known of his desires even before he understood them himself. Calarlim and I worked hand in hand to prevent him from coming to harm because of it.

"Had you agreed to this despicable plot I am not sure how I would have dealt with you. Probably informed Galdor and let him break it to Legolas. You have shown your character to be quite suitable, I am pleased to say. Legolas will do well to keep you, yet the job of convincing him to depart Greenwood will not be easy. He takes his duties here very seriously."

Glorfindel was astounded. "I know not if I can believe you, so greatly has your story changed. Why did Legolas fail to reveal your part in Calarlim's scheme?"

"He knows nothing of it. He is very suspicious of my interest in his activities, though. He is aware that I inquire after his reports once his captain has read them over and that I watch everyone who comes and goes at his abode. In fact, he worries that I am attracted to him though Calarlim tried to convince him this is false. That is what gave me the idea for this little farce."

"Is it farce?" demanded Glorfindel, his hands curling into fists anew as his posture once more presented a threatening stance.

"Peace! My mate is in Námo's Keeping but is female, as is any companionship I seek while awaiting my reunion with her. This you can verify independently by asking any of the stronghold staff you meet, or Thranduil himself."

"And what of the King? Does he share this knowledge of Cuthenin's desires?" Glorfindel felt irritated to be so deceived, forgetting he was fully prepared to engage in mendacity for the very same cause: protecting Legolas.

"Nay," Galion sighed heavily. "We will speak more of this anon, yet I wish to include Legolas' Tirn'wador. I shall guide you to his quarters."

So saying the new confederates left the plush apartment and ventured back into the stone corridor to seek the counsel of Galdor, noble Lord of the House of the Tree, Sadron to the byr of Mithlond, and Cuthenin's Guardian. As they began their short journey, the King was well into his.

TBC
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