With Friends Like These

Author’s Notes:  This series starts in TA 147.  Elladan and Elrohir are seventeen, Legolas is twelve.  I have made one very small departure from canon, and moved Arwen’s birth forward by 100 years.  This was necessary so the four can grow up together in the course of this series.  Don’t forget, they’d appear a little younger by our standards.

Chapter One - Greenwood The Great

The group from Imladris finally crested the high pass over the Misty Mountains and began to drop down into Rhovanion.  Before them, they could see the dark smudge that was Greenwood the Great.

“Look, there,”  Elrond pointed out their destination to his sons.  “In four days we will be in Lasgalen.”

Elrohir stared at the forest that stretched away to the north and south, still two days journey away.  “I never imagined it was so big,”  he said at last.  “It’s vast.”

“Why do you think it is called Greenwood the Great?”  asked his father.

“Is it all Thranduil’s realm?”  Elladan wanted to know.

“All of it,”  confirmed Elrond.  “And you should not forget, it is King Thranduil to you.”

“A King.”  mused Elladan.  “Is that more important than you, father?”

Elrond was tactful. “I would say we are about the same,”  he said.

Elladan and Elrohir were awed.  They had never seen such a great forest.  It was far larger than anything they had ever seen before, many times the size of their grandparent’s realm of Lothlorien.

As they dropped lower through the pass and further down the trail, the perspective changed, until the boundaries of Greenwood could no longer be seen.  It simply filled the eastern horizon ahead of them.

Two days later they came to the eaves of the Greenwood.  The trees were old, hung with lichen and creepers.  Birdsong and the murmuring of a myriad insects filled the air.

Sunlight slanted through the leaves, dappling the forest floor with splashes of light.

Elrohir looked about him, open-mouthed.  “It’s so different to Grandmother’s realm,” he breathed.  “But it’s still beautiful.”

“It is much older than Lorien.”  Elrond told him.  “And there are many, many different types of tree here.  No mallorns, though.  But because there are so many trees and bushes, there are many more birds and animals here.  They like the variety. And because the smaller creatures are never hunted, they have no fear of us.

They stopped that night on the path, the last night before they would reach Lasgalen.  Because of the close-growing trees, nothing of the night sky could be seen.

Elrond sighed.  He missed the stars.  Whenever he spent a night beneath the open sky, he would look upward at the stars.  They were all beautiful.  Always, first, he would gaze on Eärendil.  The evening star.  Flame of the West.  His father. Always there, looking down on him, his sons and daughter.  Even when obscured by clouds, or, as tonight, hidden from sight, it was still there.

As they settled for the night, Elrond went over to where Elladan and Elrohir lay near the fire, already wrapped in their cloaks.

“When we arrive tomorrow, you must greet King Thranduil properly.  And his son.  Remember your manners, now.  No tricks!”

“Of course not.”  said Elrohir virtuously.

“We’ll behave.” added Elladan.

Elrond stifled a sense of foreboding.  It was not what they actually said, but something in their manner that worried him.  He just hoped he was mistaken.

The next morning, he was too busy with last-minute preparations, sending out scouts to warn of their imminent arrival, to take too much notice of the twins, riding at the head of the group.  As they passed beneath the boundary trees, he joined Elladan and Elrohir at the head of the procession.

As they left the trees, and came into the open clearing that lay before the palace,  Elrond glanced at his sons. 

“Ready?”  he asked.

“Yes, father,” they said simultaneously.  As one, they unfastened the clasps that held their cloaks closed, and flicked back the folds.

Elrond stifled a sigh.  He had known they were up to something. 

The twins were dressed identically.  Both wore tunics of midnight blue, with an undertunic of paler periwinkle.  They wore low boots of black suede, and trousers of fine, dark leather.  They had even styled their hair in the same way - usually Elladan favoured several narrow braids, while Elrohir would have his hair loose.

When they did this, even he and Celebrían had trouble telling them apart.  Funnily enough, although they had tried, they had never fooled Arwen.  It was degrading to ask such a small child which of his sons he was looking at, but he had had to on occasion. 

It did not bode well for Thranduil.

“I told you, no tricks!” Elrond said now.

“Tricks, father?  We’re not doing anything!  Are we, El?” said - Elrohir? 

He thought so, but could not be certain.  The habit they had of calling one another ‘El’ made it even harder to catch them out.  It was too late now to reprimand them, anyway, as Thranduil himself was waiting on the far side of the bridge that crossed a tributary of the Forest River.

Elrond crossed the bridge and dismounted.  At a nod from their father, Elladan and Elrohir did the same, then bowed. 

“My Lord, King Thranduil, I bring greetings from Imladris.  May I present my sons” - here he took a long look at the twin on the right - “Elladan and Elrohir.” 

He thought he had them the right way round, but it was difficult to be sure.  It did not really matter, anyway - Thranduil would never be able to tell the difference.

The king blinked, a little bemused at the fearful symmetry in front of him.  Beside him, his own son was wide-eyed in astonishment.

“Lord Elrond, Lords Elladan and Elrohir.  Welcome to Greenwood the Great.  This is my son, and my heir, Prince Legolas.  I trust you had a safe journey?”

Beside him, Legolas bowed to Elrond.  “Welcome to our kingdom, my Lords.”

Once the formalities were over, more friendly greetings were exchanged.  Elves from both realms welcomed old friends, some whom they had not seen for many years, and much gossip and news was exchanged.

Legolas escorted Elladan and Elrohir to the room they would use, just down the hallway from their father, then disappeared.  The twins inspected their quarters.  Because of the number of guests, it was necessary for them to share a room.  Elladan immediately crossed to the bed nearest the window, and sat on it. 

“This is mine,”  he announced.

“That’s not fair!  Why do you get first choice?”

“Because.  So you have that bed.”  He pointed at the other one.  “And shut the door.”

“Stop telling me what to do!”  exclaimed Elrohir hotly.

“I’m allowed to.  I’m the eldest.  So you do what I tell you, little brother.”  Elladan knew how much that epithet annoyed his twin.

They were still arguing when Elrond came in, accompanied by Erestor, to inspect their room.

“It’s not fair!  Father, why can Elladan order me around just because he’s the eldest?”

“Well, we think he is the eldest, anyway.” said Elrond absently.  Beside him, Erestor threw him a startled glance.

“What?  Father, what do you mean?”  Elladan sounded worried.

“You two were even more alike when you were first born.  It is possible we got you muddled up.  Things were a little - confused -  at the time.  Perhaps Elrohir was born first.  I  really am not sure.”  Elrond paused.  'Confused' did not begin to describe the circumstances surrounding the twins' birth, though neither of them would ever know of those circumstances. 

Elrohir’s eye were alight with the possibilities.  “You mean I might be the eldest?  Did you hear that, Elladan?” he crowed.

Erestor schooled himself to look very grave.  Internally he was laughing uproariously at Elladan’s stunned expression.

“That may indeed be possible.  I recall Lord Elrond was more than a little flustered then.  He came out of the room with you both and told me your names, but which was which - I really could not say.”   He shook his head sadly.

“But father ...” protested Elladan.

“I am sorry, Elladan, I am really not sure.  Maybe your mother will remember.  I will ask her when we return.  In the meantime, you cannot assume you are eldest.  So stop telling Elrohir what to do!”

With that, Elrond turned, and left the room, leaving the twins staring after him in stunned amazement.

Elladan moved across to the bed he had claimed.  Silently he gathered up his belongings into a bundle. 

“Come on.  You can have the bed.  I’m sorry, El,”  he said quietly.

Elrohir gave his brother a long look.  “No.  You stay there.  It doesn’t matter, does it?  It’s not important. It doesn’t make any difference who’s eldest.  Not to us.”

“Do you think father was serious?”

Elrohir considered the possibility.  “I don’t know.  I think so.  And Erestor wouldn’t make it up, would he?  He just wouldn’t!”

Elladan sighed.  “You’re right.  It doesn’t matter.  I don’t care what mother says when we get home.  It’s not important.”

There was a knock at the door then.  Elrohir, who was nearest, opened it.  Legolas stood there.

“Elladan?  My father sent me to ask you to come down.  We’re meeting in the Great Hall before supper.  Are you ready?”

“Yes, we’re ready.  But I’m Elrohir.”

~~*~~

Downstairs, all was ready for the feast.  The guests gathered in the Great Hall, mingling with the elves of Greenwood.  Minstrels played softly  and sang in the background.  Later, after the meal, the music would become more lively, suitable for dancing and merrymaking.

At the feast, Legolas was seated between Elladan and Elrohir.  He looked at them surreptitiously, trying to work out which was which.  It was no good, they were identical down their straight black hair, their clothing, and even a small enamelled brooch depicting a tiny golden flower.

But then he noticed one tiny difference.  It would be of no use in the long term, but could be useful tonight.  One of the twins had a smudge of dirt on his face.  If he could find out who that was ...

He passed a platter of bread along the table. 

“Bread, Elladan?”

“Thank you.  But I’m Elrohir.”

Legolas gave him a long look.  He could have sworn that the same twin had just claimed to be Elladan.  Come to think of it, every time he addressed either of them, he was corrected.  Surely chance dictated that he would get it right some of the time?

Elrond noticed his frustration, and unobtrusively came to the rescue.  Retrieving a napkin which had fallen to the floor, he returned it to his son.

“Is this yours, Elladan?”

He took it automatically.  “Thank you, father.”

Legolas shot him a triumphant look.  It was Elladan.  That meant Elrohir was the one with the smudge.

There were no problems for the rest of the evening, not even when Legolas left his seat to speak to his father.

“El!  Quick, swap seats!  Before he comes back!”  Elrohir hissed.

Elladan gave a snort of laughter and swiftly moved.  When Legolas returned he resumed his seat, but did not appear to notice anything amiss.  

“My father has suggested that we ride out tomorrow so that I can show you the forest.  Would you like to do that?”

Elrohir nodded enthusiastically.  “That sounds a good idea!  El?  What do you think?”

Legolas turned to the other twin. “Yes, Elladan, do you want to come?”  His tone made it clear he knew precisely who he was talking to.

Elladan gaped at him, but then grinned.  “All right.  It sounds fun.  And no more tricks, I promise.”

This visit could prove to be very interesting.

To Be Continued

Chapter 2 - Ellahir or Elrodan?

The next morning, at breakfast, Legolas met his father.

“I have to go out today, to ride along the borders.  Would you like to come as well?  And perhaps Elladan and Elrohir?  It would be a chance for them to see a little more of the forest.  Do you think it a good idea?”

Legolas considered the proposition.  He had intended to show the twins around on his own,  but did not want to turn down the opportunity to spend the time with his father.  It would be a very good compromise.

“All right.  I’ll tell them.  What about Elrond - Lord Elrond, I mean?”

“He has asked if he can look through my library again.  He thinks there may still be some books he has not seen before.  I cannot imagine how, we had several copies made - made last time.”   There was a slight hesitation in Thranduil’s voice.  The last time Elrond visited had been immediately after Telparian’s death.  Fortunately Legolas seemed to have missed the stumble.

Legolas had arranged to meet the twins in the main hallway, just inside the great doors.  They were not dressed identically today, but still looked uncannily alike.  He approached the nearest one, and made a guess. 

“Elrohir?  My father is going out today, and suggested that we join him.  If you like, we can go partway with him, then come back on our own.  Shall we do that? What about Elladan?”

Elrohir nodded.  “All right.  We’ll do that.  But  I’m  ...”

“Don’t tell me.  You’re Elladan, right?”

Elladan nodded, a little sheepishly.  “Yes.  And I’m sorry about last night.  You did well to work it out.  How did you do it?”

“Never mind.  But from now on, you’re both Ellahir!  That way, I can’t get it wrong!”

~~*~~

They set off, with Thranduil, and followed the course of the Forest River. 

Legolas questioned the twins endlessly about Imladris and their home.

“You’ve got a sister, haven’t you?  Arwen?  What’s she like?”

“She’s a nuisance!”  exclaimed Elrohir promptly.

“Not all the time.”  Elladan was fairer in his assessment.  “But she keeps trying to keep up with us, whatever we do.”

“She keeps wanting to know why she can’t be a twin.”  Elrohir explained.

Thranduil joined the conversation.  “And what does Elrond say to that?”

“He said ...”  Elrohir paused, sounding puzzled.  “He said ‘Never again.’  I’m not sure what he meant.”

Thranduil turned away, fighting the irresistible urge to smile.  “I cannot imagine.”  He recalled the escapades his son had got up to, either with his friends, or entirely unaided.  Some - in fact, most - were hair-raising.  To have that potential for mischief, multiplied by two, did not bear thinking about.  Silently he thanked the Valar that Legolas was not twins.

~~*~~

After they had left Thranduil, the three moved silently through the trees.  Legolas was guiding them to a point deep in the forest, where there was something he wanted the twins to see.  After a while, he turned to them. 

“We’ll have to leave the horses here.  They make too much noise.  You must be quiet!”

Intrigued, Elladan and Elrohir followed him along  the narrow track ahead of them.  At last, Legolas turned, placing a finger against his lips. 

“Sshh!  Be very quiet.  Look here!”

Just ahead of them, beneath a clump of dense bushes, a family of four wolf cubs played.  They watched, entranced, for a while, then Elrohir trailed a spare bow string in front of one of the cubs.

The little creature pounced on the string, batting it with its paws - which seemed far too big for such a tiny cub.

Before long the three were kneeling on the grass as the wolf cubs  tumbled and frolicked about them.  Legolas stretched out one hand to try to stroke one, but it turned and grabbed at him, nipping with very small, very sharp teeth.  He snatched his hand back with a laugh.

“Little beast!  He’ll be one to look out for when he’s older!”

They were still playing with the cubs when Elrohir heard a low rumble.  He looked up, startled.

“Elladan?  Did you hear that?  What is it?”

Elladan and Legolas were staring past him, unmoving.  The cubs still rolled about their feet.  Elrohir turned his head to follow their gaze.

Not five feet away, a large she-wolf crouched, yellow eyes fixed on them.  A low, savage snarl came from her throat, and her lips were drawn back to expose teeth far larger and more lethal looking than the cub’s.

“Oh no.  I think their mother just came to see what’s going on.” breathed Elrohir.

The three elflings, still kneeling on the ground, did not move or take their eyes from the wolf.  Then, as Legolas tried to rise to his feet, the growl intensified, growing in savagery and volume.  He froze.

“Legolas?  I think we’d better keep still.”  Elladan whispered.

“Maybe you’re right.  But what are we going to do?” he asked.  The she-wolf growled again, and he dropped his voice.  “Have you got any ideas?”

“Not yet,” admitted Elladan.  “Have you got your bow?  Elrohir?  Legolas?”

Legolas shook his head minutely.  “No.”  He cursed his stupidity.  His father had many, many times stressed the importance of always having a weapon on him at all times in the forest.  One of the few times he had ever forgotten, this happened.

Elrohir’s voice came, very softly.  “Legolas, can you reach just behind?  My bow is about a foot behind you.”

Cautiously, very slowly, Legolas reached his hand back, groping for Elrohir’s bow.  When he shifted slightly to alter his balance the wolf crouched down more, settling her haunches to leap.  He stopped moving.

He wondered what they could do.  It was clear that any attempt to startle or scare the wolf off  would not work.  She would probably interpret any sudden movement on their part as a threat to her cubs and attack.

Slowly he started moving again as Elrohir directed him. 

“Back a little further - that’s it - now right about an inch - there!”

With relief, Legolas felt his questing fingers close on the end of the bow.  Carefully, infinitely slowly, he pulled it towards himself.

At last he had Elrohir’s bow ready to fire, with an arrow nocked.  But he still hesitated.

“I don’t want to kill her.  She’s only defending her cubs.”  he said softly.  “Have you got any other ideas?”

Elladan sighed.  “ I know. I don’t want to either.  But I don’t know what else to do.”

“There might be something,”  suggested Elrohir.  “Legolas, how good are you with that?  Are you really as good as everyone says?”

Legolas paused.  He hated boasting of his prowess.  But this was not the time for false modesty.

“Yes,”  he said briefly.

“All right.  Do you see, above the wolf’s head, back a little?  There’s a dead branch there.  Do you think you can hit it?  If it drops down behind her, it might distract her.”

Legolas eyed the branch.  It would be an easy shot, but he could take no chances.  Carefully sighting along the arrow, he fired.

There was a sharp crack as the arrow hit the branch, snapping it off.  It fell with a crash to the ground, a few feet behind the she-wolf.  With a startled yelp and a growl, she whipped around, turning to face this new threat.  The wolf stared at the fallen branch for a while, then seemed to decide it was no threat.  With a call to her cubs, a short, sharp, high-pitched bark, she led the way from the clearing, the cubs tumbling and frolicking about her feet.

Long after the family had disappeared from sight, the three stared after them.  Then, at last, Elladan shook himself. 

“That was close.  I think we were lucky.”

“I’m glad their father didn’t show up,” commented Elrohir.

Legolas said nothing.  The encounter had frightened him, especially as he had been warned about the dangers of his forest, and the need to protect himself.  He hoped he would not have to tell his father about it.  One condition of being allowed to roam at will within the boundaries of Lasgalen was that he never relaxed his vigilance.

Legolas had never lied to his father.  If Thranduil asked, then he would have to tell him about it.  However, if he didn’t ask, then hopefully he would never have to know.

“Come on, let’s go,”  he said at last.  “And we’d better be a bit more careful this time.”

When they left the clearing where they had encountered the wolves, they headed back to Lasgalen.  It was still only an hour or so past midday, so the three took the opportunity to range to and fro away from the path, investigating deeper parts of the forest.

At length they came to a long, narrow ravine, where an intermittent stream cut through the rock.  It was uneven, steep and nearly sheer on one side, but more shallow and sloping on the other.  Trees, bushes and brambles grew here, flourishing in the sunlight that slanted down, while on the steeper, rockier side - darker and more shadowed - creepers and stunted growth clung to the rocky cliff.

At the foot of the ravine it was damp, marshy, and black mud was sticky underfoot.

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas slithered and scrambled to the bottom, through thick overgrown plants and shrubs.  Once down, they halted and looked around. 

Although Legolas though he knew every inch of Lasgalen, he could not recall being here before.  The sides rose high above them.  On the gentler side, brambles bore heavy crops of blackberries, ripened in the sun’s warmth.  They ate greedily, hands and mouths stained purple, and still gathered enough to take back to Lasgalen for the evening’s meal.

Leaving the berries they had picked in a cool, shaded corner, they split up to explore. 

Elladan ranged over the bright, sunlit slopes, while Legolas followed the sound of trickling water to a spring at the foot of a cliff.  He looked closely at the thick black mud to see what sort of animals visited this place.  Elrohir scrambled up the steeper slopes, where bare rock was revealed, hidden at times beneath overhanging creepers.

After poking about in the mud, and finding traces of all manner of creatures, Legolas washed off all traces of the thick black mud, then cupped his hands in the spring and drank a little of the icy water.  He looked up as a shadow fell across him.

Elladan stood there, looking searchingly up and down the ravine.

“Have you seen Elrohir?”

Legolas shook his head.  “Not for a while.  He was up there somewhere.”  He gestured vaguely at the cliff face.

“I can’t see him.  He’s not there now.”

“Well, he can’t have gone anywhere, can he?  He’s probably in the bushes somewhere.”

Elladan gazed along the length of the area again, then shouted.

“Elrohir!  El!  Where are you?”  There was no reply.  He tried again.  “EL!”

Legolas added his voice.  “Elrohir!”

At last there was an answering shout, very muffled, but becoming rapidly louder.

“Up here!  Come and see what I found!”

High on the steep slope above, Elrohir had suddenly appeared.  “Come up here!” he repeated.

Quickly, they clambered up to join Elrohir on a narrow ledge.

“Well?”

“Just wait.  Close your eyes a minute.”

Elladan regarded his brother suspiciously.  “Why?”

“Just do it!  Close your eyes, count to ten, then open them again.  Please!”

With a feeling of resignation, Legolas complied, wondering what Elrohir was planning.  It was no consolation to see that Elladan was equally mystified. 

*Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten*  Legolas counted as fast as he could, then opened his eyes, a heartbeat behind Elladan. 

Elrohir had disappeared.  Legolas felt his jaw drop, and quickly shut it.  It was a habit he was trying to break, after his father had once likened him to a stranded fish.

The two stared at each other, dumbfounded.  “Where did he go?”

There was a snort of laughter, and suddenly Elrohir was before them again.  The trailing tendrils of ivy in front of them concealed a small cave, totally hidden from view.  Roughly triangular in shape, it was broad at the bottom, tapering quickly to a narrow crack that ended just below eye level.

“We can go right in!  It’s a bit narrow at first, but then opens out.  It’s quite big further back!”  Elrohir was excited by his discovery.

“Is there anything in there?”  Elladan was more cautious.

“Nothing, it’s empty!  Come on, come and see!”

Without further encouragement, they bent low and squeezed into the cave.

Elrohir’s voice floated back.  “The only thing I could see there was lots and lots of cobwebs.  Lots of cobwebs!”

Legolas stopped dead, so suddenly that Elladan ran into him.  “Cobwebs?”

“Yes.  I’ve never seen so many!”

“Elrohir, come back.  Don’t go on.”  There was a strange note in Legolas’ voice.

“What?  Why not?”  Identical voices came from front and rear.

“Because if there’s cobwebs, it means spiders!”

“Well, of course.  They always spin webs.  What’s wrong with spiders?  There weren’t any in there, anyway.”

“Elrohir, just come back.  We shouldn’t go any further!”  Legolas pleaded.

“Why not?  You sound like you’re scared.  Surely you aren’t frightened of spiders?”

“Come on, El.  We’d better go back.  It’s getting late, anyway.”  As he spoke, Elladan turned and began to head back to the ledge, much to Legolas’ relief.

Out in the open, the twins turned as one to stare at Legolas.

“What was that about?  Why are you scared of spiders?”

Legolas looked at the two identical faces, watching him in puzzlement. 

“Ellahir, didn’t your father tell you about the spiders here?”

Now the twins looked at each other.  “No, what about them?”

“They’re big.  And dangerous.  And we don’t want to provoke them,” explained Legolas.

“What, big?  Like this?”  Elladan made a circle with his thumbs and forefingers.

Legolas was scornful.  “No!  I mean big.  The baby ones are the size of a cat, and the adults are as big a  large dog.  They’re big!”

Elrohir looked back at the cave.  “You mean - they were in there?”  He sounded uneasy.

“Probably not now.  You’d have seen them.  But it must be one of their places.  Come on, let’s go.”

They returned to the bottom of the ravine, retrieved the blackberries, and scrambled back up out of the cleft.

As they rode back to Lasgalen, Elladan moved his horse closer to Elrohir. 

“Do you think it’s true, about the spiders?”

Elrohir looked thoughtful.  “I’m not sure.  They can’t be as big as he says.  There’s no such thing as giant spiders!”

To Be Continued

 .

Chapter 3 - A Midnight Excursion

The wolf was crouching, ready to pounce, sharp eyes fixed on him.  With a tremendous leap, she sprang forward, landing on his chest, and pinning him down.  He could feel hot, slavering breath on his face, and the fetid stench washed over him in a wave.  The sound of harsh breathing echoed in his ears.  The beast’s great jaws were wide open, exposing sharp, savage teeth. 

The creature’s weight crushed down on him, making it difficult to breathe.  With an effort, he pushed at his attacker, trying in vain to fend it off.  It was no use.  He was helpless beneath the huge body.

Legolas awoke with a start.  He blinked several times, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes, and the fog from his mind as he roused from his dream.

But this was no dream, it was all too real.

The creature’s fangs were only inches from his face, and its weight pressed against him. With a gasp, he raised one arm in defence.

“Get off, Huan,” he hissed.  “What are you doing here?  You know you’re not allowed inside!  Go away!”

With a soft whine, Huan gazed mournfully at Legolas, head cocked to one side.  Legolas glared at the great wolfhound in exasperation. 

“How did you get in again?  And how did you get up here?  I suppose I’ll have to get you back to the stables before anyone notices!”

The pack of wolfhounds, kept for helping the elves in hunting deer or wolves, were supposed to live in the stables.  They were absolutely not permitted in the palace itself. 

Huan, though, had other ideas.  As a puppy, he had followed Legolas everywhere, much to his delight, although Thranduil had very strong ideas on what he termed ‘unsuitable’ pets.  And although he had tried - not very hard - to dissuade Huan,  Legolas had not been able to stop the infatuation.

The great hound still had Legolas pinned down, huge paws on his shoulders.  Huan gave him a last friendly lick, then reluctantly moved, leaping off the bed and landing with a thud.

“Sshh!  You’ll wake everyone up!  Be quiet!”

With a sigh of resignation - these nocturnal visits were becoming too common - Legolas pulled on a loose robe, and found a pair of light shoes.  He did not relish the idea of walking across the courtyards and out to the stables in bare feet.

Silently he opened the door, and looked out along the corridor.  It was in darkness, save for a single torch left burning, and all was quiet.  Softly he made his way down the hallway, urging Huan on in a quiet voice.  Past his father’s rooms - all was dark and silence here, too; and then down a flight of stairs.  Along another corridor, then past the guest quarters. 

The sound of a door opening somewhere behind him sent Legolas retreating to the shadows cast by the flickering torch light, pulling Huan with him.  The hound sat obediently as they waited.  A figure appeared at the far end of the corridor, looked around surreptitiously, then made its way towards them. 

Ellahir.  What mischief was he up to at this time of night?  And where was Elrodan?

It was impossible to hope to remain hidden, so Legolas stepped out of the shadows as Ellahir drew near.  He jumped, and gave a muffled oath.

“Valar, Legolas!  You scared me!  What are you doing down here?”  Ellahir’s eyes widened as he noticed Legolas’ companion.  “What’s that?”

“This is Huan.  He’s not supposed to be here.  I’m taking him back to the stables, which is where he should be.  If you breathe a word of this, I’ll tell your father you were -”   Legolas paused, and looked at his friend suspiciously.  “What are you doing, Ellahir?”

“Stop calling me that!  I’m Elrohir!  Can’t you tell the difference yet?”

“Don’t change the subject.  What are you up to?”

Elrohir gave a sudden grin.  “We were hungry.  So we drew lots to see who should sneak down to the kitchens.  I lost.  Look, you won’t tell my father, will you?  Or yours.  I don’t think they’d understand.”

“It’s a deal.  As long as you don’t say anything about Huan.  Promise?”

“Promise.”  They exchanged conspiratorial grins.

“I was going to go out of the back door, anyway.  It’s quicker, and there are always guards on the main doors.  I’ll show you where the back stairs are.  They come out next to the kitchens.  Come on!”

They set off again.  Instead of heading for the front of the palace, and the wide, shallow, main staircase, Legolas let the way down a side passage, then down a steep, narrow flight of stairs.  As promised, when they reached the foot of the staircase, they were next to the kitchen door.

“I never knew this was here!  This is much quicker than the other ... way ...”

Elrohir trailed off at the look Legolas gave him.

“You make a habit of this, do you?”

The cavernous kitchens were in darkness, save for a red glow from the fires, banked until the following morning.  Bread was baking in the ovens, and the aroma drifted across the room.  Elrohir sniffed appreciatively.

“Do you think they’d miss a loaf or two?”

“Yes!  It won’t be ready yet, anyway.  Come on.  If you help me with Huan, we’ll see  what we can find when we get back.  This way.”

Legolas pulled open the kitchen door, and with Huan they slipped out into the courtyard, then across the grass to the stables.  There was a warm, sweet smell of hay and horses, the sound of soft breathing and shuffling hooves.  In a stall at the far end  the wolfhound pack slept, huddled together in the deep straw like puppies.  One looked up and gave a soft whine at the sight of the two elves with Huan.

With a reproachful look at Legolas, Huan joined his pack, and dropped down with a thump into the straw.

“Well, that’s done.  Let’s get back before anyone sees us!”

Back in the kitchens, they prowled around to see what could be purloined without anyone noticing.  There was a nearly full bottle of wine, and in the cold store several cheeses.  An earlier batch of loaves stood cooling on the table, and they took one of these, too.  Then, laden with their booty, they retreated back up the stairs.

“Come back to our room,” urged Elrohir.  “El and I can’t eat all this.  Come and join us.”

“That’s very gracious of you.  Considering it’s my father’s food we’ve just stolen!”

Muffling their laughter, Legolas and Elrohir crept down the hallway that led to the twin’s room.  They had nearly got there when the door to Elrond’s room opened suddenly, and Thranduil emerged, Elrond standing just behind him in the doorway.

It was hard to say who was most startled.  The two elf lords gazed at their reprobate sons in disbelief, and the two elflings stared back with identical guilty expressions.   Legolas and Elrohir retained just enough presence of mind to thrust their ill-gotten gains behind them, out of sight.

Thranduil gave Legolas his sternest look.  “Whatever are you doing?  Wandering the halls at this time of night?”

Legolas gaped at his father, totally lost for words.  “I - I  ...”

Elrond took pity.  “Maybe he could not sleep.  Is that it, elfling?”

Legolas took refuge in the excuse.  “Yes!  I had a bad dream, it woke me up ...”  he paused, hoping against hope that no one would ask what the dream had been about.  Now was not the time to mention Huan.

“I see.  And Elrohir?”  The elf king did not sound convinced.

With relief, Legolas fell back on the simple truth.  Some of it.  “I met him in the hall.  He - he was going the wrong way.”  *Well, he wasgoing the wrong way to get to the kitchens* Legolas thought defensively.

“I see.  So you showed him where to go?”

“Yes!”  Both Legolas and Elrohir nodded eagerly.

“Very well.  Then you had better get back to bed, both of you.”

“Thank you.  Good night, father.  Goodnight, my Lord.”  Elrohir and Legolas spoke in unison, exchanged a glance of deep relief, and fled down the hall, rounding the corner, and falling through the door to the twin’s room.  They both leaned against the closed door in dramatic fashion, panting.

“Do you think they guessed anything?”

“No.  They can’t have.  We’d never have got away with it!”

~~*~~

Elrond and Thranduil watched as the two disappeared from sight.  Hearing a door open and slam, Thranduil finally looked across to meet the other’s gaze.  Elrond pulled him through the still open door, and shut it hastily.  The lord of Imladris was shaking with mirth.

“Whatever do you think they were up to?”

“They had been outside,”  Elrond deduced.  “Their feet were wet.” 

“It must be that wretched hound!  I thought I heard him earlier!”

“Is that all they were doing?  They were hiding something!”

“They came back through the kitchens.  I could smell bread.  And that pungent cheese from Esgaroth.”  Thranduil, too, could spot clues.

“Ah, a midnight feast!”

By now, Thranduil too was laughing helplessly.  “Ai, Valar, did you see their faces?  I have never seen such guilt!”

Erestor, and Lanatus, Thranduil’s steward - who had been inherited from Oropher - were also there, having been sampling a new batch of cordial Elrond had brewed.  It was similar in taste to miruvor, but less potent.

Lanatus looked disapproving.  “Well, I hope you will speak to them severely in the morning.  Stealing from the kitchens!  I never heard of such a thing.”

“Stealing?”  echoed Thranduil.  “From my own kitchens?  A loaf of bread, and a piece of cheese no one else would touch?”

“They also had a bottle of wine,” sniffed Lanatus.

“Which was already opened, and would have been sour by tomorrow.  Stop fussing, Lanatus!”

“At least they had not taken the Dorwinion,” added Elrond, slyly.

~~*~~

Back in the twin’s room, Elladan watched in bemusement.  He had been getting anxious. “I thought you were never coming back!  You’ve been gone ages! Whatever’s the matter?  What do you mean, did who see anything? And where did you come from, Legolas?”  The questions poured from him like a torrent.

Legolas and Elrohir exchanged a glance, then sank to the floor, overcome by giggles. 

“Well - ” began Elrohir. 

Elladan listened in silence to the tale.  He was rather annoyed that his little brother had had an adventure like that without him. 

“But we were very lucky, at least we didn’t see any of the spiders,”  Legolas finished.

Elladan and Elrohir regarded him suspiciously.  They weren’t at all sure they believed in the spiders.  They had spoken to several of the elflings from Greenwood, who had all assured them that the spiders were true, and really existed, honestly,  but in such gleeful tones, the twins were still not convinced.  It all sounded like a trick played on gullible visitors.

“What do you mean?  asked Elrohir, uneasily.

“I told you about the spiders.  They never come near Lasgalen in the daytime, they’re scared of my father, but at night, or in places where it’s dark, they come out, and prowl about.  If they catch anyone then ...”  he shivered expressively.

“What?”  Elladan and Elrohir spoke simultaneously.

“They jump on you from the trees, and they bite you, so you can’t run away. Then they wrap you up in spider silk, only it’s not like silk, it’s as thick as ropes, and then ...”

“What?” they asked again.

“Then they eat you,”  Legolas finished in a whisper.

Elrohir swallowed audibly.  “Were they out there tonight, do you think?”

“Probably.  We just didn’t see them.  A friend of mine says there’s lots on the path that leads around the back of the hill.  But no one knows if it’s true, no one dares go there, not at night.”

“No one?”

Legolas shook his head.  “It’s too dangerous.”

While they had been talking, they had been eating the bread and cheese hungrily, passing the wine back and forth, drinking straight from the bottle. Before long, all that was left was a few crumbs, and some smelly leaves that the cheese had been wrapped in.

Legolas gave a huge yawn, then got to his feet.  “It’s late.  I’d better go back.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight.”

As Legolas made his way back to his own room, he wondered if the twins had taken the bait about the spiders.  If they had, he would have to make plans.

To be continued

Chapter Four - Spider Attack!

The next morning, Legolas was still none the wiser as to whether the twins had believed him, and was unsure of how to find out without being obvious.  He had just finished breakfast when they finally appeared.  He passed them with a nod and a brief word, but did not stop. 

In the doorway, he passed Brethil.  He stopped, then back tracked. 

“Brethil!  I need you to do something for me.”

Brethil looked wary.  “What?”

“You see Elladan and Elrohir over there?  No, don’t look at them!  I want you to sit near them, not too close, but so you can hear what they’re saying.  I need to know what they’re talking about.  Can you do that?”

Brethil was still suspicious.  “I can, it’s easy, but I’m not sure I want to.  I expect you’re up to something again.  You are, aren’t you?  You’d better be careful, you know what your father said last time.  Why do you want me to listen?  What are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to do anything, trust me!”

“Why won’t you tell me?” Brethil sighed.  “You never tell me anything.  Why not?  You know I can keep a secret!”

Trying not to snort in disbelief, Legolas put on his most pleading look.  “Please?”

Brethil felt resigned.  Why did  his friends always manage to talk him into things? “Well - I suppose sitting next to them will be safe enough.  Your father won’t mind if I ...”

“No!  Not next to them!  I said near them, just so you can overhear.   Thank you!”  With that, before Brethil could argue,  Legolas was gone.  He had a lot of thinking to do.

The path that led around the back of the hill which housed Thranduil’s palace was remote, little used, and narrow.  Gloomy even in the daylight, at night it was pitch dark, the trees clustering too close for moon or stars to shine through. Among the younger elflings, legend told of giant spiders that lurked here, spinning impenetrable  webs across the path, concealing themselves in the thick branches.  It was considered a rite of passage to brave the path, alone, at night.

Legolas, goaded by his friend Alfiel, had finally ventured down the Spider Path the year before.  The normal night time noises of the forest had been magnified by his own fear and imagination into the creaking and hissing of the spiders, their scuttling and rustling.  He had completed the last mile of the  challenge at a dead run, to be greeted at the end of the path by a chorus of cheers and whistles, led by Alfiel himself.

Later that morning, he found Brethil in the stables, helping the grooms.  Offering to help, they worked side by side for a while, until Legolas broached the subject uppermost in his mind.  “Did you get to hear anything?”

Brethil looked puzzled.  “I’m not sure.  It sounded like they were talking about the Spider Path, but how would they know about that?”

“Oh?”

“Then one of them - I’m not sure which one - said ‘If we’re going to go, we have to go tonight.’  What do you think he meant?  Do you think he meant going along the Spider Path?  But why would they do that?  It’s very dangerous, especially at night.  Whoever would have told them about it?”

“Ah.”

Exasperated, Brethil straightened, and glared at his friend.  “Legolas!  Are you listening?  Who do you think would have told them about the Spider Path?  I think Lord Elrond will be very cross if they go there at night.  Maybe they don’t realise about the spiders?  Do you think I should tell them?  Maybe we should both tell them about it.  They might listen to you.”

“No!”

Brethil stopped grooming the horse, and looked at Legolas.  “Why not?”  He realised that Legolas was being even more evasive than usual.  “Why don’t you want to tell them?”

“Because - because ...”  Legolas was hit by a sudden brainwave.  “You know, Brethil, you’re right.  You’re absolutely right. I think you should tell them.  Tell them about the spiders, and how dangerous the path is at night.  Warn them that they mustn’t go there!  I think they’d be frightened.”

After making sure that Brethil would warn the twins - and therefore guarantee they would brave the path - Legolas, endlessly inventive, began plotting.  In the stables he had found an old waterskin, intact, but long since discarded, due to a flaw that tainted the water.  Half-filling it, he found it fell with a most satisfactory ‘splat’ when dropped.  Then he went in search of one of the maids, who he recalled had worn a lacy black shawl at one of the feasts.

“Mireth, you know that shawl of yours?  The black one?  I wondered if I could borrow it.”  He gave her one of his breath-taking smiles.

“Why?  What do you want it for?”  she asked suspiciously.  She knew the little prince well.  He would never intend to damage it, but things - happened - when he was around.  He was always profusely apologetic afterwards.

“I just need it to wrap something in!” he explained.

Mireth was still suspicious.  It sounded innocent enough, and she knew he would be telling her the truth - but probably only a small part of it.  Looking at his pleading expression, she relented.

“All right.  But not my new one.  I have another you may use.  You can keep it, if you like.”  It would probably not be returned in any case, or at least not in any condition fit to wear again.

His face lit up.  “Thank you, Miri!”  He turned and dashed off.

“Stop calling me that!”  she shouted after him.

His voice floated back to her. “Sorry, Miri!” 

Mireth sighed in exasperation, then went to find the shawl.  Taking it to his room later that day, she opened the door to find Legolas standing on top of a chair, which had been placed on top of a table.  The chair, which had a rickety leg - Legolas’ first attempt at woodwork - wobbled precariously as he straightened, startled by her appearance.

To Mireth’s amazement, it looked remarkably as if he was practising dropping an old waterskin on the floor.

“What are you ...”  she stopped, shaking her head.  “No.  Keep quiet.  I really do not want to know.  That way, when - whatever it is happens, I can swear to your father that I knew nothing about it!”

The chair wobbled again as he dropped lightly to the floor.

“Don’t worry, Miri.  Nothing’s going to happen,” he reassured her glibly.

“Stop calling me that,”  she began automatically, then finished:  “Oh, I give up!  Here – take the shawl.  I have no intention of asking what you are going to do with it!”

Mireth closed the door behind her, and paused outside, running the whole scene through her head.  She realised she had a broad grin, and tried to sober.  Legolas had that effect on everyone.  Irritating, exasperating and exhausting, no one ever remained annoyed with him for long.

Not even Thranduil.  The elves of Greenwood had a healthy respect for their king, but they all knew his bark was worse than his bite - although his bark could be formidable indeed.  She just hoped that whatever the prince was planning would not get him into too much trouble.

In his room, Legolas inspected the shawl carefully.  It was thick, made of loosely woven strands of  black wool, and edged with a long fringe.  It would be perfect.  He plaited some of the threads of fringe together, to make thicker, longer pieces.  Then he wrapped it around the waterskin, and looked at it critically. 

Too small. 

He unfastened the package again, and padded it out with some old, outgrown clothes.  Then he retied the bundle, arranging the fringe around the outside.  He sighed with frustration.  It would never fool anyone.  He could only hope that Elladan and Elrohir would not take the time to stop and look too closely.

It was now nearly dusk, and he would have to act quickly.  He had no idea when the twins would set out, but had to be in position before then, and had yet to choose his vantage point.

Slipping quietly out of the back doors, Legolas crossed the courtyard towards the stables. The Spider Path branched off  the main track, and led around the back of the stables, and behind the hill which housed the palace. 

About halfway along the length of the path there was a tall beech, with a thick, sturdy branch   jutting out over the path.  Scrambling up into the tree, Legolas positioned himself on the branch, and waited.  And waited.

The darkness became thicker.  There was no moon, and a cloudless sky revealed the stars in all their glory.  Here, high in the tree, he could look up through the branches at them.  Hours passed.  He was hungry, and began to regret that he had not picked up something from the kitchens as he passed through.  He had certainly missed supper.

Waiting alone, in silence like this, was rather eerie, and he also began to regret not having asked Brethil, or Tirnan to join him.  Or maybe Alfiel, but Alfiel was older, and would have little time for pranks. 

Legolas was just beginning to feel that he was on a fool’s errand, and that the twins were never coming, when he heard soft voices approaching.  He listened carefully, and peered down through the concealing branches.

Elladan and Elrohir were walking slowly, warily, looking around with every step.  They were very close together, their shoulders almost touching.

A slight breeze sighed through the trees, and Elladan stopped.  “What was that?”  His voice sounded tense.

“Just - just the wind.  I think.”  Elrohir did not sound too sure.

“Come on.  Let’s keep going.”

“It wasn’t me that stopped,”  Elrohir murmured.

With a grin, Legolas reached out and shook one of the smaller branches.  The leaves rustled gently.

Elladan stopped again.  “Are you sure it’s only the wind?” he asked, seeking reassurance from his twin.

“Yes!  Come on!”

Legolas shook the branch again, harder this time.  The rustling of the leaves did not sound like the wind this time.

Both twins stopped.  By now they were directly beneath Legolas.  They looked all around, and up at the tree above them.  Legolas kept very still, but knew they would not be able to see him, he was too well camouflaged.

“El?  That wasn’t the wind, was it?”  This time, Elrohir spoke, his voice very quiet.

“N - no.  It didn’t sound like it.”

“What do you think it was?”

Elladan considered.  “It’s ... probably nothing.  I think we’d better go.  We should get back soon, we must be near the end of the path.  Brethil said it wasn’t that far.”

“He thought we’d be too scared to come here!”  Elrohir sounded indignant.

Legolas stifled a snort of laughter.  Of course, the twins did not sound in the least bit scared.  He shook his branch again, and then made a soft hissing sound.  Elrohir gave an undignified squeak, and grabbed at his brother’s arm, who had moved just in front.

“El!  Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.” Elrohir sounded abashed.  “But did you hear that?”

“No,”  said Elladan, firmly and unconvincingly.  “I didn’t hear anything.”

Legolas bounced slightly on the branch he was on, and hissed more loudly.  He also made a clicking noise with his tongue. 

The loud rattling of the leaves, combined with the hissing and clicking, unnerved the twins.  “El, there’s something up there!  Something big!  It’s true, what they said about the spiders!  They’re here!”

“I - I think you’re right.  Come on, let’s go.  Now!”

They continued along the path, walking very rapidly.  Elrohir gave a final glance over his shoulder at the tree where the spider lurked, and saw something moving in the branches.  “El!  I saw something!  There is something there!”

Elladan turned, just in time to see a large, shapeless, black - something - drop from the trees.  It landed with an unpleasant splat and quivered.  “Oh, Elbereth, it’s coming after us!  Run!”

They ran. 

Legolas, still perched on his branch, moved back against the trunk, and leaning against it, laughed until his sides ached.  The whole thing had worked far better than he had hoped.  No more would they scoff at the stories about Lasgalen’s giant spiders.

He looked down through the branches, but the twins were long gone.  And it was time he got back, too.  He could get away with missing supper, but if he wasn’t in bed when his father looked in when he retired, there would be trouble.  Thranduil would want to know where he was.

The hissing and clicking sounds he had made echoed in his head, and he laughed softly again.  Then, turning to climb down the tree to return to Lasgalen, he realised the sounds weren’t inside his head. 

They were above it. 

Very slowly, he looked up into darkness, and saw the dull reflection  of his face in  two many-faceted eyes.

To be continued

(Brethil appears courtesy of Treehugger Enterprises.)

Chapter Five - Escape

Legolas stared at the bulbous eyes in total disbelief and shock.  For a moment he was unable to move, frozen in place, but all the while his mind raced.

Everyone knew the spiders didn’t come this close to Lasgalen.

Everyone knew that the Spider Path was just a scary story to frighten your friends with.

Everyone hadn’t told the spider that crouched a few feet above him.  He could see a thick, sticky strand of web beside the creature.  It swayed slightly from side to side, rocking gently on its hideous, hairy legs.

Legolas could feel his heart pounding.  What could he do?  Escape?  That would not work.  The spider was between him and the trunk.  To climb down the tree he would have to move closer to the spider, then turn his back on it. He had no intention of taking his eyes off it, or of getting any nearer.

Perhaps he could jump?  He glanced very quickly downwards.  The ground was a long way down, too far to jump, and there were no branches close enough for him to use.

Try to fight it?  Ever since the incident with the wolf, a few days ago, he had taken to carrying a knife, sheathed, and attached to his belt, which could not be left inadvertently lying out of reach.  But he did not know how to avoid the creature’s fangs, or where it would be most vulnerable.  He did not think he could move quickly enough to kill it before it seized him.  But what other option was there?  Fleetingly, he wished his father was there with him.  Thranduil would know what to do, would know how to kill the spider. 

His hand crept towards the hilt of his knife.  He had to do something.

Mouth dry with fear, he tensed, wondering what would happen if the spider attacked. No one knew where he was.  No one knew he had come here tonight.  No one would know where to look, if he disappeared.

His father would never know what had happened to him.

That thought alone made Legolas determined.  He would not give in without a fight.  Straightening, he gripped the haft of his knife, and glared at the spider.

It eyed him back, then opened its mouth and hissed again, showing its fangs.  For all his determination, it startled him.

Involuntarily, Legolas took a step back, forgetting he was in a tree.  His foot met nothing but empty space.  He wavered for a moment, and tried to grab at the nearest branch.  His flailing hand met only leaves and twigs, which ripped through his grasp, leaving him with just a handful of mangled leaves.  Then, with a sharp cry,  he fell off the branch, hitting the ground far below with a thud and a gasp.

For a long moment he lay there, winded, flat on his back, utterly dazed, and trying to breathe.  He was aware of nothing but the desperate need to draw air into his lungs.  Finally, with a great gasp, he succeeded, and the red haze faded from his vision.

He decided he was still alive, and slowly sat up.  To his horror, he felt hot tears prick at his eyes.  Angrily he brushed them away and sniffed hard.  With an effort, he managed to control himself, and very carefully got to his feet.

Cautiously he peered upwards through the branches, and all around.  There was no sign of the spider.  There was no way he was going back up to look for it, so slowly, limping slightly, and aching all over, he made his way back to Lasgalen.  The ‘spider’ he had made for the benefit of the twins, lay abandoned, forgotten, on the path behind him.

By the time he reached Lasgalen he was as jumpy as a frog, and tense with fright.  The Spider Path had never seemed so long, or so dark, but at last he saw a gleam of light from an open door ahead.  He finally felt safe when he passed the stables and crossed the courtyard.

Stealthily, Legolas crept in through the kitchen door.  The kitchens were nearly deserted, with just the sounds of splashing and clattering coming from the scullery.  He did not want to meet anyone, not in his current state. 

There were bits of leaves, twigs and bark on his clothes, and moss and grass in his hair. His hand was scratched and bleeding where he had tried to break his fall.  He brushed at himself, rather hopelessly, and tried to pick off the worst of it.

Just outside the kitchen, he crept up the narrow side stairs, and had nearly reached the sanctuary of his room when he realised something.  Something unpleasant.

He would have to warn his father about the spider.  That meant admitting where he had been, and why.  A small voice at the back of his mind argued the necessity for this.  Surely there was no need?  If the spider stayed in the vicinity, someone else would see it and raise the alarm.  If it disappeared again, well, no one need ever know.

It was very tempting to listen to this line of reasoning.  Perhaps he should keep quiet?  After all, he did not want to get Elladan and Elrohir into trouble as well.

But after a moment’s deliberation, Legolas knew he had to tell his father.  He could never keep such a secret to himself.  And he had to do it now, before he changed his mind.

Thranduil’s bedroom was closest, so Legolas knocked on the door, then opened it.  Nothing.

He went back down the stairs to his father’s library, and knocked again.  There was a voice inside.

“Come in.”

Legolas went in, and very nearly retreated again.  Elrond was there.  Legolas had no wish to explain what he had done in front of the lord of Imladris.  He would surely be furious at the trick played on his sons.  But it was too late now to change his mind.  His father looked up at him with a smile.

“Legolas, come in.  I wondered where you were.  You were not at supper.”

Elrond also turned and smiled at him.  “Good evening, elfling.”

Legolas nodded at him.  “Good evening, Lord Elrond.  Ada?  I - there’s something I have to tell you.”

Thranduil regarded his son solemnly, taking in his bedraggled appearance, though that in itself was not so unusual.  But the hesitancy, the downcast gaze - this was clearly no simple ‘goodnight’ visit.  There was a confession in the air.  He resisted the strong temptation to bury his head in his hands.  *Now what?  What had he done thistime?*  Aloud, he said simply, “Well?”

“I - I went out this evening.  Along the Spider Path.”

“I see.  Why did you do that?”

Legolas glanced at Lord Elrond, wishing he would remember an urgent errand.  But he appeared to be studying the book shelves.

“I - it was a joke.  To play a trick on - on Elladan and Elrohir.”

Elrond’s hand, drifting along the spines of the books, froze, and he turned away.  He was furious.  Legolas’ heart sank.  He did not want to upset the elf lord, who had always been kindness itself to him, especially during the horrible months following Telparian’s death.

Legolas ploughed on.  “They didn’t believe in the spiders, so I pretended there was one on the Spider Path.  To scare them.  But - the thing is - there really is a spider.  I saw it!”

Thranduil’s attention sharpened.  “What?  Are you sure?  Where?”

“It was on the Spider Path.  Around the back of the hill.  It was hiding in the tree, just above me.  I saw it!”

“All right.  Just tell me.  Did it touch you?  No?  Are you all right?  Are you sure?  Did you see what sort it was?”

Legolas found he could only respond by nodding or shaking his head.  Then he elaborated.  “I couldn’t see what sort it was.  I think it was one of the black ones.  But I’m not sure.”

It was a little known fact, but there were two species of Greenwood spider.  The black, more common variety, was fortunately less dangerous.  Their bite was venomous, but not deadly. It simply caused drowsiness and sickness.  But they could still kill, especially when they chanced on a lone victim.  They simply wrapped their prey in spider-silk - as thick and tough as rope - and left them until needed.

The other species was smaller, and reddish brown in colour, with dark markings.  Much rarer, it was far more dangerous.  Its bite resulted in agonising pain, fever, and hallucinations.  It had often proved fatal.  If one of these was loose near Lasgalen ...

“I will send out a hunting party tomorrow.  We will find it, have no worry.  Now, tell me, what happened?  When did you see it?   Where?”

Legolas responded to his father’s questioning as best as he could.  Reaction was setting in again, and he began to tremble.  As he related his tale, Elrond came over, and gave Thranduil an unreadable look. 

“I will go now.  I want to make sure Elladan and Elrohir got back safely.”  He left, without another glance at Legolas.

“Father?  Is he very cross with me?  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get them into trouble.  I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“Hush.  Do not worry.  Everything will be fine.  But please do not ever do that again!” 

Legolas, Thranduil reflected thankfully, had completely missed the wink Elrond had given Thranduil as he left.

As he spoke, the elf king put an arm around his son’s shoulders and pulled him close, hugging him tightly in relief.  Legolas flinched slightly, and drew back. 

“What is it?  What is wrong?”

“My back.  It hurts.”

“Let me see.  What did you do?  Take off your tunic, let me have a look.”

Legolas complied, wincing, and feeling stiff.  His voice was muffled as he pulled the tunic over his head.  “I didn’t tell you how I got away from the spider.”

“No, you did not.  I thought you must have fought it off with your knife,” remarked Thranduil lightly.

Legolas hung his head, feeling slightly ashamed.  “No.  I - I fell out of the tree.”

“You fell?  Legolas, you could have been killed!”

The tunic was off by now, and Thranduil ran gentle fingers over stiff muscles, grazes, and a spreading bruise along one side, which had taken the brunt of the impact.

He sighed.  “You could have broken your back, or your neck.  Never do that again!”

“I’m sorry, father,” said Legolas, very quietly.  “It was silly.  I won’t go out again, not on my own, not at night.  I promise.”

Thranduil looked at him.  “Legolas, you should never make promises you cannot keep.  Just - just be careful.  And do try not to go out alone, at least.”

He took a final look at the bruising.  “Go and have a hot bath.  It will help a little.  But you will be sore tomorrow.  Are you hungry?  You missed supper.”

Legolas looked up hopefully, and nodded.  “Ada?  Thank you.  For not being cross.”

“I should be.  You deserve it.  But I think you have had enough of a fright tonight.  Go on now.  I will come up to your room in a minute, and put some ointment on those scratches.”

Legolas gave his father a sudden hug, then left.  Thranduil gazed after him, even after the door closed behind his son.  Legolas was like all elflings.  He had no concept of his own danger, and still did not realise fully the peril he had been in this evening.  It could so easily have turned out differently.

Legolas had been the only reason Thranduil had been able to cling to his sanity when Telparian and Lissuin died.  Consumed by grief, he would have sought the sanctuary of the havens, regardless of his obligations to his people, to Greenwood, if it had not been for his son.  Without Legolas, there was nothing to keep Thranduil in Middle Earth.  If anything happened to him ...

Thranduil sighed.  Legolas appeared to possess the luck of the Valar.  He just hoped that luck would never desert him.  Legolas would need it, all of it, when Elladan and Elrohir found out what he had done.

To be continued

Chapter Six –Lessons Learnt?

As he left Thranduil’s library, Elrond closed the door behind him.  He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  The trick Legolas had played on the twins, especially the spider he had made, was masterly, worthy of Elladan and Elrohir at their very worst.  But when he thought of the three foolish elflings running around, with a real spider on the loose, his blood ran cold.  He had suspected the twins were up to something that evening, but had never dreamed it was something like this excursion in the dark.

He was a little surprised at the close friendship that was developing between the three.  Elladan and Elrohir did not lack for companionship in Imladris, but had always been content with each other’s company most of the time.  Having found a kindred spirit, their capacity for mischief was finding a new lease of life.  Thranduil would find Greenwood a quieter place when their visit ended.

He would not tell his sons the whole story.  Let them think they had indeed seen the spider.  They would be hell-bent on revenge otherwise, and he rather felt that Legolas had learnt his lesson – in this, at least.  He had certainly had a bad fright.

Elrond reached the twins’ room, and quietly opened the door.  They were sitting together on one of the beds, engaged in an earnest, whispered conversation.  They looked up guiltily at his appearance, and sprang apart.

“Father!  We – we were just going to bed.” Elrohir had clearly said the first thing that came into his mind, judging by the look Elladan gave him.

“Really?  It seems a little early, I would have thought.  You must be tired.”

“Yes!  It’s been a long day.”  They both gave huge, false yawns.

“Well, I will not keep you up.  But I came to warn you.  I was with Thranduil just now.  Apparently a spider has been seen, very close to Lasgalen.  They are usually kept clear from the immediate area.  He said he will be sending out a hunting party tomorrow.  But I want you both to stay inside until it has been found.  Do you understand?”

He gave them both a very stern look, noticing that both twins had gone very pale.  Very meekly, they both nodded.

“Yes.  We’ll stay here,” promised Elrohir.

“Do you think they’ll find it?” Elladan added.

“Yes.  I am quite sure they will. And look for any others that may be there as well.  So there is no need to worry.”

After saying goodnight, he left them.  The intense whispering started before he had even closed the door.

“Did you hear what he said?  It’s true!  I was beginning to think you were right, that it was something Legolas did.  But if Thranduil said it …”  Elladan paused, thinking hard.

Elrohir was silent.  He had almost convinced himself, and his brother, that it was some sort of trick, something Legolas had done – somehow.  It seemed he’d been wrong.  They really had seen a real, live, Greenwood spider.

“El?  It’ll be something to tell Arwen when we get home!”

~~*~~

When Elladan and Elrohir went for breakfast the next morning, the halls were a hive of activity.  Warriors bustled here and there, before moving off to the armoury.  Thranduil himself was giving orders to the captains, telling them where to search.  After eating as quickly as they could, the twins found an out-of the-way corner, and watched with great excitement.  This was the hunt for ‘their’ spider. They were half wishing they could take part, half glad that they would not have to go anywhere near it again.

In another corner of the hall, Legolas had found Brethil and Tirnan.  Talking even faster that Brethil could, he told them about the trick he had played on Elladan and Elrohir, and its aftermath, or at least a version of it.

“You made a spider?”  Tirnan was intrigued.  “Where is it?  We could scare lots of people with it!”

“I lost it,” sighed Legolas.  “In the forest somewhere.  I left it behind when I saw the real one.”

“But Legolas,” began Brethil.  “If you left it behind, and they’re going out on a hunt, they’ll find it.  Then everyone will know it was a trick.”

Legolas was thunderstruck.  That hadn’t occurred to him at all.  “Oh no,” he moaned.  “I’ve got to find it, try to get it back.”

Tirnan and Brethil both jumped on him in unison.  “Don’t you dare,” hissed Tirnan.  “You know we’re not allowed out until they catch it.”

“You promised your father, remember?”  added Brethil.

Legolas sighed again.  “I know I did.  But … oh, well, I just hope no one realises what it is.”

Tirnan doubted that. The way Legolas had described it, it was a masterpiece of spider-building, indistinguishable from the real thing.

“Let’s hope they think it’s real,” he said, in an attempt to comfort his friend.

Brethil joined in.  “Come on, Legolas, tell us again about how you fought the spider,”  he urged.

“Well, you remember I told you about the wolf last week,” he started, cheering up. 

Tirnan and Brethil nodded.  They had heard about the wolf, both from Legolas, and also from Elladan and Elrohir. 

“Well, after that, I made sure I always had my knife.”  He touched the hilt of the knife in emphasis.  “So, when I looked up and saw the spider, I thought ‘I may not have my bow and arrows, but I can still stop you!’  It was huge, the biggest spider I’ve ever seen!”

“You’ve never seen a spider before,” interjected Tirnan.

Legolas ignored him.  “So I pulled out my knife,” -  he demonstrated the move -  “and held it up, so the thing could see I had a sting too!”

“What happened then?” asked Brethil.

“Well, I pointed my knife at it,” – he pointed it at them both – “then moved forward, and it backed away from me!  Then I stabbed at it, and tried to kill it, but it was very fast, and it ran away.  It was frightened of me!”  he finished in triumph.  While speaking, he had been showing Brethil and Tirnan all the moves he’d imagined himself making, while in the safety of his bed the night before. 

It was how he wished the fight had gone.  Falling out of a tree was so – humiliating.

Tirnan and Brethil were both properly impressed.  “So it was you that raised the alarm about the spider?” asked Tirnan.

“Yes!  I knew I had to tell my father about it, because it was dangerous.  It’s my duty to protect the realm,” he added, self-importantly.

“Wasn’t your father cross?  I remember him saying that the next time you went out at night, there’d be trouble.”  Brethil reminded him.

“Well, he said he should be cross, but because I’d been so brave, he’d forgive me.  This time.  He said I’d had enough of a fight tonight.”

~~*~~

Elrond came in through the main doors, and took advantage of the mass of people to keep out of sight.  He could see Elladan and Elrohir on the far side of the hall, watching proceedings avidly, and used their distraction to slip down a side passage.  He did not want them to see what he carried.  Glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was not observed, he did not look where he was going, and walked into Lanatus.  The steward took a step backwards, and gave him a look full of disapproval.  It deepened as he saw the bedraggled bundle the elf lord held.

“Lord Elrond?”

“Lanatus!  My apologies.  I should take more care.  I should look where I am going.”  Apologising the whole time, Elrond edged around Lanatus and continued down the hallway without stopping.  He felt a fleeting sympathy for Thranduil, who must find life very difficult with Lanatus at times.  He needed someone like Erestor, who would be unfailingly supportive.  Life would be so much simpler …

Lanatus gazed after Elrond as he made his way down the passageway and rounded a corner.  Then he shook his head.  He would never understand the Noldor, never.  He sighed.  Life with Thranduil could be very difficult at times. He wished the king would be more supportive. Life had been so much simpler under Oropher …

By a circuitous route, Elrond came back into the Great Hall at the far end, close to where Legolas was in deep discussion with two of his friends.  As Elrond watched, the prince was brandishing his knife, demonstrating some complicated move.  Then, with a flourish, he sheathed the knife again.

Elrond breathed a sigh of relief.  He did not want Legolas to inflict damage on himself, or his friends.  He approached the group.  Some imp of mischief – the twins must be rubbing off on him – prompted him to speak very formally. 

“Prince Legolas?  I went out into the forest this morning.  I found something.”

He gave a slight bow, and presented the wet, soggy bundle he carried.  “I think this is yours.”  Elrond left, hastily, before he could spoil the effect by laughing.

Brethil and Tirnan looked on with great interest.  “Well?  What is it?”  asked Tirnan at last.

Legolas looked up, his eyes gleaming.  “It’s my spider!” he said joyfully.

To be continued

Chapter Seven – The Tapestry

From their corner, watching the progress of the spider hunt closely, Elladan and Elrohir continued their discussion of the night before, one that had never really ended.  Elrohir was teasing his brother.  “Go on, El, admit it, you were scared!”

“I was not!”  Elladan denied the accusation furiously.

“Yes, you were.  You screamed.”

“I did not!”  Elladan was aware that he had given a very embarrassing squeal when Elrohir had suddenly clutched at him.  He was not going to admit it, though.  “Anyway, what about you?  You made a funny noise as well.  Why did you grab my arm like that?”

“I – I thought you were going to trip.”  Elrohir, too, did not want to admit how terrified he had been, not even to himself, let alone his twin.  He would never hear the end of it.  But it was pointless for Elladan to deny he had been frightened.  Elrohir always knew exactly what his brother was feeling.

He thought about the worst part of the night’s events.  “What about when the spider jumped on us like that?  Were you scared then?”

Elladan turned his head and met his brother’s eyes.  “I’ll say it if you will, El,”  he allowed.  Elrohir nodded suddenly in agreement.  “All right, then.  Yes, I was scared.  I have never been so frightened in my life,” he admitted.

Elrohir looked very relieved.  “Me neither.  When it leapt out from the trees, and then chased us down the path – I thought it was going to kill us.  I was terrified!”

“I hope they find it.”

“Me too.”

The last of the patrols had gone now, and it would probably be some time before any returned.  The hall was quieter now.  The twins finally stirred from their vantage post, and made their way to Thranduil’s library.  Elrond had told them that there were some books there describing the spiders, and they wanted to find out all they could about the beasts.  There would be a lot to tell Arwen when they returned to Imladris.

~~*~~

After Elrond had left, Tirnan and Brethil looked at the spider doubtfully. 

“It doesn’t look very realistic,” said Tirnan at last.

“No, it doesn’t,” Brethil agreed.  “I thought you said no-one could tell the difference?  I thought you said it looked like a real spider?  It’s just an old shawl.  And I can see one of your old tunics, look, there!  I don’t think it looks very good.  I think …”

“Shut up, Brethil!”  Legolas did not need Brethil to point out the faults in his spider.  “It got wet.  That’s all.  It looked better last night – well, a little bit better,” he added honestly.  He had to admit, it did not look very realistic.

“It’s just as well Elladan and Elrohir didn’t stop to look too closely at it.  Do you think they know?”

Legolas considered Tirnan’s words.  “I suppose they must.  Oh no!  If Elrond knows, he’ll have told them, won’t he?  They’re going to kill me!”

“Keep out of their way for a while,” advised Brethil.  “That’s what I do when my mother’s cross.”

Tirnan look sceptical. “Does it work?”

“Not very often,” he admitted.

Legolas looked worried as he considered the twins’ likely reaction.   “Maybe the spider hunt will take their minds off it,” Tirnan suggested reassuringly. 

“Yes, it might.  But I need to hide this.  If they see it, they won’t forget about it!  Come on, I’ll hide it in my room.”

The three made their way to Legolas’ room.  He looked around for the best place to put it.  “It’s wet, so I’d better let it dry.  In here.”

Legolas carried his soggy armful into the bathing room, and dropped it into an out-of-the-way corner on the stone floor.  “There!  It will be safe here.  No one will see it.  Come on, I want to find out what happened on the spider hunt!”

~~*~~

A little later, Mireth went to his room with an armful of clean laundry.  The clothing had been washed and mended – only the Valar knew how he tore everything – and she put it away carefully.  Then she turned to the bathing room with some towels.

As she put the towels on a shelf, she noticed something from the corner of her eye.  Something that had not been there before.  Turning for a better look,  she gave a muffled shriek, and dropped the last towel on the floor.

In a corner of the room a large squat shape crouched.  She realised it looked very bedraggled, and a trickle of water ran from it across the floor.  And surely that was her shawl …?

“The little monster!  I could kill him!”

Downstairs, she found Lanatus supervising the cleaning of the silver plates.

“Do you know what that little monster has done now?” she raged at him.

Lanatus looked disapproving.  “Control yourself, Mireth.  Do you mean Prince Legolas?  You really should not speak of him in such a disrespectful way.”

“I mean that little monster, the king’s son!” she fumed.  “He – he ...”  as she began to speak, she could see the funny side of  the situation.  And she did not really want to get the ‘little monster’ into trouble.  Not with Lanatus, who had no sense of humour whatsoever.

“Oh, never mind.  I can sort him out!”  she said grimly.

Lanatus watched as she left in search of the prince.  He shook his head sadly.  Such incidents were by no means uncommon in the household.  He longed for the quieter times with Oropher.  He wondered idly what the prince had done now.  His father the king was far too lenient with him, the child needed discipline.  Thranduil had done nothing about the stolen bread, cheese and wine.  And one of Lord Elrond’s sons had been involved the theft, too.  He was just as bad.

~~*~~

In the library, Elladan was growing restless.  “I want to do something.  I wonder where Legolas is?  Let’s go and find him.  Maybe he knows something about the spider hunt.”

Elrohir agreed readily.  They had just reached the hallway, when they saw Legolas and two of his friends coming down the stairs.  Legolas immediately moved behind his friends.  It looked as if he was trying to hide.  As he was taller than both of his companions, hiding did not work very well.

Elrohir called to him.  “Legolas!  Do you know if the spider has been found yet?”

“Spider?  What spider?” he asked warily.

Tirnan kicked him.  “The real one, you idiot!” he hissed.

“Oh!  The spider!  No, I don’t think so.  Not yet.  It might take a long time, if they don’t know where to look.  And it’s a very big forest.  There’s lots of trees.  I hope they do find it, we can’t go out until they do.  I think …”

Tirnan kicked him again.  “Shut up, Legolas!”

Legolas shut up, wondering what had come over him.  He was getting worse than Brethil.  He watched the twins carefully, wondering what they would say to him about the trick he had played on them.  To his surprise they said nothing; they did not even hint at it.  That made him uneasy.  They were obviously biding their time, and would take their revenge later.  He would have to be very careful and be alert at all times.

“Legolas, since we can’t go outside, we wondered if you know something we can do inside.  Is there anywhere we can go?  Will you show us the rest of the palace?”  Elladan sounded bored.

Legolas was about to think of an excuse – he would still rather avoid the twins for the moment - when Mireth came along a passageway.  She looked furious.  He wondered who had upset her.

“Legolas!  Just you come here!  I want a word with you!”

He gulped.  What he done?  There was nothing he could think of, not this time.  He looked round for an escape route, and saw it, standing in front of him.

“Sorry, Miri!  I can’t talk to you now, I must show Elladan and Elrohir around the palace!”

He shot off down a side passage, followed by the others.  When they were a safe distance from the hall, and there was no sound of pursuit, he stopped.

“Well?  Where do you want to go?  The caverns?  The cellars?  The storerooms?  The treasury?”

The twins glanced at each other.  “Everywhere!” they chorused.

Legolas led the way along the passageway and down a flight of steps.  At the bottom he stopped and turned to his companions, remembering his manners.  “Oh – do you all know each other?  This is Tirnan, and this is Brethil.  And this is Elladan, and that’s Elrohir.”

Brethil looked at the twins, then leaned closer to Legolas.  “How can you tell?” he asked in a loud whisper.

Legolas shrugged.  “They just are,” he explained.  He had not realised until then that he could finally tell them apart.

They explored as much of Lasgalen as they could, starting with the storerooms that lay below the palace.  Delving in a storeroom that looked as if it had not been touched since Oropher’s time, they came across some tapestries, thick with dust.  Legolas picked the top one up, brushed off the worst of the dust, then shook it.  A thick cloud enveloped all five, and Elrohir sneezed. 

“Valar, Legolas!  Don’t do that!”

“Sorry!  But look at this!”  He held up the tapestry he had found.  It was clearly old, highly detailed, and richly embroidered with beautiful, glowing colours. It depicted a battle scene with many people escaping from a burning city, fleeing down a narrow mountain path, and a mighty duel between a tall, golden-haired elf warrior, and a hideous monster, winged with flame and darkness.  “Where do you think this was?  When was it?”

Elladan and Elrohir grabbed it in excitement.  “It’s Glorfindel!  Look!”

“Glorfindel?  Who’s that?”

Legolas pondered Tirnan’s question.  The name was vaguely familiar from his lessons, but he could not recall how.

“He lives with us at Imladris.  He teaches us sometimes,”  Elladan explained.

“But look!  What’s that horrible creature?”

“That’s Glorfindel!  I told you!” Elrohir was in a silly mood.  Elladan slapped at his brother.

“It’s a Balrog.  Glorfindel said that he fought with one, long ago.”

Legolas thought about his encounter with the spider.  The Balrog looked far more terrifying than the fiercest spider.  “He must be very brave!”

“He is,” said Elrohir, serious now.  “He told us about it once.  It gave me nightmares.  But he saved all those people!”

“Gondolin!” said Brethil suddenly.  “It was Gondolin.  I remember hearing about it.”

Legolas too now recalled the tale.  But it had been a boring account and he had paid scant attention to it at the time.  The battle on the tapestry made him wonder what else he had missed during Lanatus’ interminable history lessons.

They were so engrossed with their discovery that they nearly missed hearing the gong that signalled lunch.  Elladan looked up with a start.  He had not realised how long they had been there.

Legolas muttered a curse.  “Valar, we’re late!  Look at us!  We can’t go in like this, my father will have a fit!”

All five were grimy, dusty, and dirty.  Elrohir’s hands were black from the ink on an old parchment, and Brethil had several small cobwebs in his hair.  Tirnan’s attempt to brush them out simply made matters worse, by spreading them further.

Carrying the tapestry between them, they made their way up from the storerooms and dumped it in an alcove.  They washed hurriedly in a small room near the kitchens,  then went swiftly into the great hall for the meal.

One of the leaders of the spider hunt had returned.  They watched avidly as he made his way to report to the king.

~~*~~

The patrol captain bowed low before Thranduil, then straightened.  “We found the spiders, Sire.  Exactly where we were told.  There were two of them.”

“Two?”  echoed Thranduil.  Legolas, it seemed, had had a narrow escape.

“Yes, a male and a female, and a nest of spiderlings,”   the guard elaborated.  “We killed the adults, and burned the nest.  We were only just in time, the young would have left the nest in a few days.  We searched the whole area, it is clear.  I also sent out patrols to inspect the perimeter, to ensure there are no more in the vicinity.”

“Good.  We cannot be too careful, not this close to Lasgalen, not even with the black ones.”

“But Sire – did I not tell you?  The two we killed were the red spiders, the gorliante.”  Thranduil, the guard reflected, had suddenly gone ashen pale.  “My Lord? Are you all right?”

Thranduil nodded, rather absently, then dismissed the guard.  The more he heard of the previous night’s escapade, the worse it got.

To be continued

Chapter 8 – Messages From Home

Elrond was just making his way to Thranduil’s study to find out about the progress of the spider hunt when Lanatus hailed him.

“My Lord Elrond!”  As always, the steward sounded irritated.

Elrond turned, waiting for the steward to catch up.

“Lord Elrond, a messenger has arrived from Imladris.  He is waiting for you in the Great Hall.”  Clearly, Lanatus thought it beneath his dignity to bear such tidings.

Elrond thanked him, and retraced his steps.  He had been expecting a messenger sooner or later, as he had been away from Imladris for some time.

The messenger sat at one end of the long tables, eating a very late lunch.  He stood as Elrond approached.  “My Lord, it is good to see you again.”

“And you, Teiglin.  You have news for me?”

“Aye, my Lord.  I bear messages and letters.”  Teiglin sat again, and Elrond settled himself on the other side of the bench.

The first was a short dispatch from Glorfindel, which the messenger recited verbatim, followed by an even briefer message from Celebrían.

“Look after the boys.  Do not let them get into trouble.”  Elrond grinned wryly at that, wondering how much he should tell his wife of the spider incident.

“Thank you, Teiglin. Was there anything else?”

Teiglin laughed.  “Yes, one from the Lady Arwen.  ‘I love you Ada’.  She also gave me a kiss to give you …?”

Elrond laughed too.  Teiglin had been with the family for a long time, and was not in the least abashed at such messages.  “I think we will consider that delivered.  Send her one back.”

Teiglin smiled.  “Of course, my Lord.  I have letters as well.”

He handed over the bundle of parchment.  There were several letters, including one from Glorfindel which would be more detailed than the verbal message, and another from Celebrían.  Elrond put that aside to read later, in the privacy of his room.  He knew he had a tendency to wear a foolish smile as he read his wife’s letters to him. She had also written to both Elladan and Elrohir.

There was even a letter from Arwen, marked ‘Ada’ in careful, though slightly wobbly letters.  And what was this?  A second letter for Elrohir, in unfamiliar writing.  He sniffed it disbelievingly.  It was scented.  He looked at Teiglin questioningly, one eyebrow raised.

The messenger shook his head.  “My lips are sealed.  I was sworn to secrecy.”

Well, well.  It appeared his younger son had an admirer.  He would have to ask Celebrían about it when he returned home, she knew everything that went on in Imladris.

There were letters for Erestor and other members of the Imladris party.  Teiglin excused himself and went off to deliver them.  He would stay overnight at least, before journeying  back to Imladris with return messages.

As Elrond turned his attention to the letter from Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir came into the hall.  They had met Teiglin, and come to hear the news from home.

Elrond gave them their letters.  “Here is another one for you, Elrohir.  I am not sure who sent it.”

Elrohir flushed slightly as he took the letter.  Elladan snatched it from his brother, and backed away, waving it mockingly.  “El!  Look at this!  Someone sent you a love letter!  Who’s it from?  You never told me about her!”  His voice was taunting.

Elrohir’s flush deepened.  “Never mind who it’s from.  Just give it back!”

“Tell me!  Who is it?  Tell me, or I won’t give it back!”

“Elladan, give it to me!”  Elrohir snapped.  He was clearly annoyed. He hardly ever used his brother’s full name.

“Elladan.”  Elrond spoke mildly, but Elladan stopped teasing, and gave the letter back to Elrohir with a flourish.

“Here you are, little brother.”

Elrohir glared at his twin, thrusting the letter into the front of his tunic.  “Thank you,” he said with exaggerated politeness.

Elrond had watched the exchange with interest.  It appeared that not even Elladan knew the identity of the mysterious admirer.

Elladan, having decided to stop tormenting his brother, changed the subject. “Father, we just saw Legolas.  He said the hunters caught the spiders, that we can go outside.  So may we?”

“He said it was safe?”

Elladan nodded.  “Yes.”

“Very well. Yes, you can go, both of you.  What about you, Elrohir?”

“I – I think I’ll go upstairs.  I might go out later.”  He was fingering his letter as he spoke.

Elladan rolled his eyes, but made no comment.  The twins made their way out of the hall to go their separate ways.  Only seconds later, there were sounds of a scuffle, followed by Elrohir’s voice raised in fury, swearing vengeance on his brother.  Elrond sighed.  Look after the boys?  He could not even keep them safe from each other.

~~*~~

Thankful that he was finally permitted outside, Legolas crossed the bridge in front of Lasgalen,  and drew a deep breath of the clean, earth-scented forest air.  It was a relief to be out in the open again.  He turned, and saw Brethil following him out.  His friend was deep in conversation with Thranduil, which surprised Legolas, as normally Brethil avoided the king if at all possible.

Thranduil had his head bent to listen more closely, and occasionally nodded, or shook his head. At last Brethil finished what he was saying, and ran off into the trees.  Thranduil looked up, and saw his son watching.  He beckoned Legolas to come closer.  As he ran to join him, Thranduil looked at  Legolas sternly.  “What is this I hear about last night?”

Legolas looked at his father in surprise.  What had Brethil been saying …?

“Apparently there was an epic battle with the spider.  You scared it away, I understand,”  Thranduil elaborated.

Legolas smiled.  “Yes!  I told Brethil and Tirnan I frightened it, and it ran away.”

“Why did you tell them that?”

Legolas’ smile broadened.  “Well, I didn’t want to tell them how scared I was, or that I fell out of the tree!  They would have laughed!”

“So you lied to them,”  said Thranduil flatly.

His smile suddenly froze.  “No!  I didn’t lie, I just pretended.”  *Surely that wasn’t telling lies?  Telling lies was wrong!*

His father frowned. “Was it the truth? Did it really happen?”

Legolas hung his head, beginning to feel ashamed.  “No,” he mumbled.  He had not realised that telling tall stories to his friends was the same as telling lies.  He had just told the story as he wished it had happened, if only he had been brave enough …

Thranduil sighed.  “Then it was a lie.  You know that.”

“I’m sorry, Ada,”  he whispered.  “You won’t tell them, will you?”

“No.”

Before Legolas could begin to feel relieved, Thranduil added:  “You must tell them yourself.”

“But Ada …!”

“Legolas, you must never lie to your friends.  How will they ever trust you?”

Legolas was silent.  Confess to Tirnan and Brethil that he hadn’t fought the spider?  Admit that he had been so frightened he had fallen from the tree?  How could he do that?  They would laugh at him!

“Well?”  Thranduil was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, Ada.  I will.  I promise.”  Legolas sounded very subdued.

Thranduil watched as Legolas walked, very slowly, in the direction Brethil had taken.  He felt great sympathy for his son.  It was a hard lesson he had to learn, but necessary.  He was a prince, and the people had to be able to follow him without question, and trust him completely. 

~~*~~

Legolas followed the route Brethil had taken into the forest.  He soon caught up with his friend, and took a deep breath.  He wanted to get it over with. 

“Brethil?  Do you know where Tirnan is?  I need to say something to you both.”  If he had to say this, it would be better to say it to both at once.

“I think he went to the stables.  Shall we go and see?”  Brethil could sense that his friend was troubled about something.  He and Tirnan could usually manage to cheer him up.

They had not gone more than a few steps when Elladan shot past, waving something high in the air.  Elrohir raced after him, hurling insults and blood-curdling threats at his brother.  Elladan veered off into the trees, followed by Elrohir.  Their progress could easily be followed from the shouts and curses that drifted back.

Legolas and Brethil looked at each other in astonishment.  “Come on!  I want to see!”  Brethil nodded, and the two ran after the twins. 

It seemed as if Elrohir was gaining, when Elladan suddenly leapt high into the air and grabbed at a branch overhanging the path.  He swiftly scrambled up into the tree, and from his vantage point looked down and jeered at his brother.  “El, do you still want this?  Come and get it!”

Elrohir stood on the path and glared upwards.  “Elladan!  Give it back!  I’ll tell father you took it again!”

“I think I should open it first.  I ought to see who is writing to my little brother.”

“Don’t call me that!  Elladan!  Come back down!  Give me back my letter!”

Elladan simply retreated further up into the tree, and brandished the letter again.  With an inarticulate bellow of fury, Elrohir followed him.  The two were soon high in the branches, but Elrohir was no nearer catching his brother, or retrieving the letter.

With a sudden laugh, Legolas jumped up into the branches after his friends.  He began to urge them on impartially. “Elrohir, go on!  You can do it!  Elladan!  Hurry up, he’s going to catch you!”

Brethil stayed on the ground, watching the other three in disbelief.  “I hope you’re going to be careful.  Elladan, you’re getting very high up.   Legolas, I thought you wanted to find Tirnan?”

“In a minute!  Just wait!  You worry too much, Brethil.”  Legolas was still in the lower branches, and Elrohir by now was about half way up.  He was still shouting threats at Elladan, but was some distance below him.

Elladan climbed still higher, finally pausing to look down again.  He waved the letter mockingly, his eyes widening in surprise as it slipped from his fingers.  He made a sudden wild grab to catch it,  but his foot skidded on the wet bark.  With a cry of fear, he fell, crashing through the branches to hit the forest floor so far below.  His descent ended with a sickening thud and a sharp crack.   

The horrified silence that followed was broken as Elrohir’s anguished cry echoed through the trees.

“EL!”

To be continued

Chapter 9 – Elladan

Legolas scrambled down from the tree faster than he thought possible, faster than he ever had before, with the possible exception of the previous night.  He did not even see Elrohir pass him, but by the time he reached the ground, Elrohir was already kneeling next to his brother.

“El?  El?” Elrohir whispered, his voice shaking.  “El, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry. It was Athela.  The letter was from Athela.  I’m sorry, El, please wake up.”

Legolas ran to his friend’s side, and knelt next to Elrohir.  Elladan lay motionless, face down, with his head turned slightly to one side.  His face was covered with scrapes and scratches from his fall.  One arm was trapped under his body.

Legolas felt utterly helpless.  He had no idea of what to do, how to help Elladan.  He glanced sideways at Elrohir.  He was trembling slightly, and held one arm as if it pained him.  “Elrohir?  What should we do?  Do you think we should turn him over?”

Elrohir looked up.  “No!  No, we mustn’t move him.”  He tried to remember what his father had told him.  “Don’t move him,” he repeated.  “He – he may have hurt his back, or his neck.”  His voice quavered again.  Trying to recall what Elrond had said, he felt again for Elladan’s free wrist, and sighed with relief. 

A shadow fell over them as Brethil approached.  He looked down with a horrified fascination.  “Is he dead?” he asked.

“Brethil!”  Legolas snapped at him in exasperation.  “Go and get help. Find my father, or Lord Elrond.  Tell them what happened.”

Brethil nodded once, glanced again at Elladan dubiously, then ran back towards Lasgalen.  Legolas watched him go, almost with relief.  Comments like that would not help Elrohir, who already seemed to be close to panic.  When Brethil had passed out of sight, Legolas turned back to Elrohir, still crouched over his brother, and talking to Elladan in a vain attempt to rouse him.

“Elrohir?  What was all that about?  Why were you chasing him?  What had he taken?”

Elrohir looked up at Legolas.  It seemed so long ago that Elladan had snatched the message from him.  “It was a letter,”  he said at last.  “Just a letter.  El wanted to know who it was from.  I was teasing him … I should have said!  Then none of this would have happened.  It’s all my fault…”  Elrohir trailed off, utterly miserable.

Legolas wished he did not feel so useless.  He did not have enough medical knowledge to be able to help Elladan, and did not even seem to be able to console Elrohir.  He looked around for inspiration, and spotted the letter, lying on the ground.  Reaching across, he picked it up and offered it to Elrohir, who shook his head, and pushed it away.  Legolas pushed it into a pocket for later.  “Who is she?  This Athela. You said the letter was from her.”

“Oh.  She’s a friend of mine from Imladris.  Her mother is a healer.  She – she said she would write while I was away, but she wanted it to be a secret.  I didn’t tell El about it …”

ven seem to be able to console Elrohir.  He tried again.   enough medical knowledge to be able to help Elland, and did not even

~~*~~

Brethil raced back to Lasgalen.  He crossed the bridge, and shot past the startled guards.  In the entrance hallway he saw Mireth, and skidded to a halt.

“Miri, I need to see the king, or Lord Elrond.  Where are they?” he demanded breathlessly.

Mireth was startled.  “Brethil?  What is it?  Has something happened?”

“Just tell me!”

“In the library, both of them.  I just came from there.  But you cannot …”  She was talking to herself; Brethil had already fled up the stairs towards the library.  Something was clearly wrong; Brethil would never normally act in such a precipitous manner, or actively seek out the king, for whom he had a very healthy respect.  She hoped nothing had happened to the young prince.  Despite her frequent annoyance with him, she was very fond of Legolas.

Running down the hallway, Brethil flung open the door to the library and burst into the room.  Thranduil and Elrond were drinking rosehip tea and both looked up, startled, at Brethil’s unceremonious entrance.

“Brethil?  What the Valar …” Thranduil began, but then he stopped.  “Is there something wrong?  What happened?”

“You’ve got to come with me, both of you,” Brethil panted.  “I – I think he’s hurt.”

“What?  Who? Who is hurt?  Brethil, what happened?”  Thranduil attempted to calm him enough explain events.

“It’s Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir.  They were climbing a tree.  I said he was too high up!  Oh, please, you must come with me!”  Brethil pleaded, turning to leave.  When he reached the door he glanced over his shoulder.  “Come on!”

Thranduil tried one last time to establish facts.  “Brethil, calm down.  Just tell me what happened!”

“I’ll tell you on the way.  I told you, they were climbing the tree, but he fell, and I thought he was dead, but he said he wasn’t, and then he told me to find you both and get help.”  Brethil’s breathless, rambling words spurred both fathers into action.  They followed Brethil as he ran back down the stairs, and out through the heavy doors.  Elrond paused briefly to collect a pouch of medical supplies,  while Thranduil directed several of the guards to accompany them, and sent another to find Calmacil, or one of the other healers.

As Brethil retraced his steps through the trees, Elrond and Thranduil kept pace, still attempting to determine exactly what had happened – and to whom.  Brethil’s sense of urgency was palpable, but his frantic explanations were not exactly coherent.

The journey took only minutes, but it seemed as long as an age of the sun.  Thranduil and Elrond ducked beneath the branches as Brethil finally announced “Here!”

The two elflings kneeling on the ground looked up with identical expressions of relief as they saw help approaching.  Their relief was matched by Thranduil’s silent prayer of thanks as he saw Legolas, immediately swamped by guilt as he saw Elrond’s anguish.

As the lord of Imladris knelt next to his motionless son, Thranduil went to the other two.  He looked at them both closely.  “Are either of you hurt?  No?  What happened?”

Elrohir answered the question.  “It was my fault,” he whispered shakily.  “It’s all my fault.  I was chasing him.  It didn’t matter about the letter!  It was my fault, and now El’s hurt …” his voice broke off, perilously close to a sob.

 Thranduil knelt between Elrohir and Legolas, and placed an arm around each.  He could feel the tenseness across Elrohir’s shoulders, and the odd way he placed his arm.

“Elladan will be all right,” he reassured the younger twin.  “Your father knows what to do.  Do not worry.”

“But it’s my fault …”  Elrohir repeated.

Thranduil looked at him questioningly. “Why?  Did you push him?”

“No!  No.  I would never do such a thing!  I didn’t push him, I didn’t …”

“Father, stop it!”  Legolas interrupted Elrohir’s desperate denials.

“I was wondering why he felt it was his fault,” Thranduil explained mildly.

Belatedly, Elrohir realised Thranduil had been teasing him.  He managed a shaky smile.  “I didn’t push him, but I was chasing him when he fell.  He dropped the letter and tried to catch it.”  His gaze had flickered to Thranduil as they spoke, but now reverted to watching his father and brother.

Elrond examined Elladan carefully, feeling along his legs and right arm for any sign of broken bones.  The left arm was hidden, and would have to wait until he could turn Elladan onto his back.  But first he had to check for further injuries.  Drawing a sharp hunting knife, Elrond swiftly slit the back of Elladan’s tunic and undershirt, then running gentle, probing fingers down his neck and back, along the length of his spine.

“What’s he doing?” asked Legolas, curiosity overcoming his concern.

“You remember what I told you last night?  Elrond needs to be sure that he did not hurt his back.”  Thranduil ran a finger down Legolas’ spine in illustration.

Apparently satisfied that there were no spinal injuries, Elrond gently turned his son over, tenderly brushing away leaves and dirt.  His face was grazed and scraped, but there did not seem to be any serious cuts.  As Elladan’s left arm shifted slightly, Elrohir flinched and held his own arm more tightly, cradling it against his chest.

“I thought you said you were not injured?” Thranduil asked.

“I’m not,” said Elrohir softly.  “But my arm hurts – here, and here.  I can’t move it.”

“Let me see. Does this hurt?  Or this?”  Thranduil gently felt Elrohir’s arm where he indicated the pain.

Elrohir shook his head.  “No.” 

Thranduil was puzzled.  There was no visible injury, and Elrohir did not react to movement of his arm.  Yet he was clearly in pain.

As Elrond moved Elladan’s arm again, Elrohir winced, and gave a gasp of pain.  From what Thranduil could see from his position, Elladan’s arm was clearly broken, and his shoulder probably dislocated.  He turned to look at Elrohir again, wondering.  Twin empathy.  He had heard of such a thing, but had never witnessed it.  Could it be?

“Elrond!” the elf king called softly.  “I think Elrohir can feel Elladan’s injuries.  Is that possible?”

Startled, Elrond looked up at his younger son, considering.  Although he had never experienced that particular phenomenon himself, he and his brother Elros had often known exactly what the other was feeling.  And the bond he had had with his twin had never been as strong as that shared by Elladan and Elrohir.

Moving slightly so that Elrohir could not see his actions, Elrond touched Elladan’s arm lightly.  Elrohir tensed, and drew in his breath sharply, biting his lip.  Elrond sighed in frustration.  This complicated things.  He had intended to reposition Elladan’s shoulder, and set and splint his arm while he was mercifully unconscious, but if Elrohir was feeling the pain vicariously … 

He felt in the pouch which contained his medicinal herbs, and removed two peles leaves which he passed to Elrohir.

“I want you to chew these.  I need to reset Elladan’s arm, and at the moment you can feel everything that I do to him.  This will help.”

Elrohir shook his head obstinately.  “No!  It’s my fault he was hurt.  I deserve it!”

Elrond frowned.  “Elrohir, stop being foolish.  This will not help Elladan.”

“No.  I don’t want them.” 

Elrond suppressed another sigh of frustration.  Elrohir possessed an unexpectedly stubborn streak, which sometimes manifested itself at the most awkward moments.  Ruthlessly, he resorted to emotional blackmail without a qualm.  “Elrohir, if you do not take these, I will have to wait until we return to Lasgalen to treat Elladan.  He will probably be awake by then.  Do you really want to do that to him?”

With a furious glare at his father, Elrohir took the peles leaves without another word.  He chewed the leaves quickly, grimacing at the bitter taste.  The drug was fast acting, and after a few minutes his eyes were slightly glazed and dilated.  He blinked several times.

While waiting for the leaves to take effect, Elrond continued his examination.  He called Legolas to assist him. 

“I need you to help me.  I want you to stand here.”  He indicated the spot.  Legolas’ shadow fell across Elladan’s face.  Elrond leaned closer, and looked carefully at Elladan’s eyes.  The pupils looked normal.  “Legolas?  Stand back now.”

Legolas complied, and as he moved the afternoon sunlight shone down.  “Good,” murmured Elrond as both pupils contracted.  At least that was one relief.  He glanced across at Elrohir.  The peles leaves he had given his son had a dual effect.  Elrond was not sure if the pain-killing properties would have any result, as the pain Elrohir was experiencing was not real, but phantom; but the soporific effects would certainly calm and soothe him immediately, and quickly make him sleep.

Elrond rummaged in his pack, and found two short, smooth pieces of wood, each about ten inches long.  Elrohir was leaning against Thranduil more and more heavily, but still struggling to keep awake, fighting the effects of the peles.  Before long, however, he lost the battle, and Thranduil gently eased him down onto the ground.

Able to work swiftly now, Elrond splinted and bound Elladan’s forearm.  It was a clean break, and the bone did not appear to be displaced. The dislocated shoulder would be more difficult. Elrond felt the injury carefully,  then held Elladan’s arm just above the elbow.  Calmacil, who had just arrived, held Elladan while Elrond pulled and twisted, until he felt the shoulder joint move back into position.

One of the guards, not knowing from Brethil’s incoherent words who was injured, had had the wit to bring two litters.  Elladan and Elrohir were both moved onto the litters,to be displaced. The dislocated shoulder would be more difficult. Elrond fe then the party went swiftly back to Lasgalen.

 By the time they reached the room which the twins shared, Elladan was stirring.  He slowly opened his eyes, and blinked owlishly as Elrond leaned over him.  “Father?  What hap – oh.  What have I done?”

“You have a broken arm and dislocated shoulder,” Elrond explained gently.  “You were lucky.  You could have been killed.  Does it hurt?”

“A little.  It aches, but not much.  I thought I was going to die,”  Elladan whispered.  He felt he would never forget the moment of terror as he had slipped and fallen.  “Where’s Elrohir?  I want to say I’m sorry.”

Elrond moved aside so Elladan could see his brother, still asleep on his bed.  “What’s wrong with him?  El?”

“Nothing is wrong.  He is just asleep.”

“Asleep?”  Elladan sounded faintly put out that his twin was sleeping while he lay injured.

“He can tell you why himself.”  Moving to the other bed, Elrond shook Elrohir gently.  “Elrohir.  Wake up now.”

The first thing Elrohir saw as the sleep haze cleared from his eyes was Elladan, propped up on pillows with his arm bandaged and in a sling,  watching him anxiously. 

He sat up, but when he tried to stand, Elrond pushed him back down. 

“What about your arm? Does it still hurt?”

Elrohir flexed it experimentally, then shook his head.  “It still aches a little, but it feels better than it did.”  Released, he crossed to Elladan’s bed, stumbling slightly from the effects of the peles.  “El?  Are you really all right?  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the letter.  It was from Athela.”

“Idiot!” replied Elladan good-naturedly.  “I was the one who took it.  I shouldn’t have teased you.  I know you’d have told me about it later.  But why was Father asking about your arm?  What’s wrong with it?  And why were you asleep?  Did you faint?” he added slyly.

“No!” Elrohir protested indignantly.  “I’ll tell you what happened.  And I’ll read the letter to you.  But I’m not sure where it is.”  He looked up in surprise as Elrond handed it to him.

“Legolas found it, and gave it to me to pass on to you.  Please tell your brother what this girl has to say, she has caused quite enough trouble for one day!”

“But it wasn’t Athela’s fault!”  Elrohir began to protest, then looked sheepish as he caught his father’s smile.  He wasn’t normally so slow when it came to teasing.

When Elrond left them, Elrohir was sitting cross-legged at the foot of Elladan’s bed, reading the letter to him, and at the same time explaining animatedly how he had experienced the effects of Elladan’s broken arm.  It seemed that any temporary rift had been more than healed.

To be continued

Author’s Notes:  peles leaves are my own invention.  Peles is an anagram of ‘sleep’.

 .

Chapter 10 – The Enchanted River

Supper that evening in Lasgalen was a rather subdued affair.  Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir were conspicuous by their absence.  Elrond had forbidden Elladan to get up until the next day, Elrohir refused to leave his side, and Elrond had stayed with them both to ensure that his orders were followed.

Legolas was also rather quiet.  He had just realised that despite his promise to his father, he had still not told Brethil and Tirnan the truth about the spider.  Events had rather got in the way of his confession.  He spotted them both, seated at one of the tables, deep in conversation, and steeled himself. 

Thranduil saw his son’s sudden resolve, and took pity.  “Legolas?  You have done enough for today.  I quite understand if you talk to your friends tomorrow.”

Legolas was determined, however.  Having made up his mind, he did not want to put it off until the next day.  He made his way to the lower tables, and sat down opposite Tirnan and Brethil.

He took a deep breath.  This was not going to be easy.  “Tirnan?  Brethil?  I – there’s something I have to say to you.”  He paused, hoping for inspiration.

Tirnan looked at him questioningly.  “Yes?”

“Well – what I said to you this morning, about the spider.”  He stopped again.

“Yes?”  Tirnan and Brethil spoke together this time.

Legolas sighed. “Well – it wasn’t quite what happened, exactly.  It – wasn’t exactly true.”

“What did happen, then?” Brethil wanted to know.

“Do you mean you didn’t scare Elladan and Elrohir with it?”  Tirnan sounded disappointed.

“Oh, yes, that bit was true!  I scared them both!  You should have seen them run!  Then I dropped my spider on the path behind them, and they ran even faster!”  Legolas began to cheer up as he recalled that part of the previous night’s adventure.

Brethil began to understand, but couldn’t believe it.  “You mean there wasn’t a real spider?  Legolas, you told your father that there was!  He sent out search parties, and hunters, and everyone!  You’re going to be in so much trouble when he finds out!  Are you going to tell him?”

“Shut up, Brethil!”  Legolas was impatient.  The constant interruptions did not make his confession any easier.  “There was a real spider, I wouldn’t make that up!  The thing is – well – I didn’t exactly fight it.”

“So what did happen, exactly?”  Tirnan asked.

“Well – I looked up, and I saw the spider.  It was just above me.  I could see its eyes …”  he stopped and shivered at the memory.   “I couldn’t get down; it was between me and the tree!  And I was trying to think what I could do, and I was going to fight it, I really was, but then …”  he stopped again.

“Yes?”

“Then it hissed at me.  And I thought it was going to attack me.  And I was so scared that – that I fell out of the tree,”  Legolas finished lamely.  “So when I told you that I fought it, it wasn’t exactly true.”

“So that’s how you got that bruise!” exclaimed Tirnan triumphantly.

“Bruise?  What bruise?”  Legolas sounded puzzled.

“Legolas!  Today, when we had to wash before lunch.  You pulled up your tunic, and I saw a massive bruise on your side!  We wondered what had happened.  We knew you hadn’t fought the spider, after all.”

Legolas looked astounded.  “You – you knew I hadn’t fought the spider?  You knew it wasn’t the truth?  That I – I lied to you?”

“Well, of course we knew you didn’t fight it!  If you fought off a spider, on your own, it would be all over Lasgalen!  You’d be a hero!  Your father wouldn’t have been able to stop telling everyone about it!”  Tirnan’s logic was faultless.

“You know what he was like when you won that archery contest in the spring,” Brethil added.  “He talked about it for days!”

“I thought you’d hate me for telling you lies,” Legolas admitted.

Brethil snorted. “It wasn’t telling lies, it was pretending.  That’s different.”

“My father doesn’t think so.  He says it’s the same.  ‘If it’s not the truth, or it didn’t really happen, then it’s a lie.’ ”  Legolas quoted.

“That’s rubbish,” said Tirnan bluntly.  “Besides, you never tell lies.”

“It’s why you keep getting into trouble,” Brethil pointed out.  “If your father ever asks you what happened, you always tell him the truth!”

~~*~~

Upstairs in the twins’ room, Elrond and his sons were having a quiet supper.  Elladan was still confined to bed, despite his protestations that he was perfectly well.  But because he had been unconscious for some considerable time, Elrond was taking no chances.

With his arm splinted, bandaged and in a sling, sporting a large bruise and a spectacular black eye, Elladan certainly did not look well.  But his eyes were bright, and he wore his familiar grin as he argued with Elrohir about what to tell their mother about the accident.

Elrond was writing a letter for Teiglin to take back to Imladris for Celebrían.  He wanted to reassure her that Elladan had no lasting injuries, and would make a full recovery.  Elladan did not want to say anything at all, arguing that by the time they returned home he would be well, his arm healed, and there was no point in worrying their mother.  Elrohir, while finally relinquishing sole responsibility for what had happened, nonetheless wanted to explain everything in full.

While Elladan and Elrohir continued their bickering, Elrond quietly finished the letter, sealed it, and left to find Teiglin, who would be leaving the next day.  When he returned, the twins were laughing together as Elladan read out some of Athela’s declarations of undying love for Elrohir – who had a definite flush to his cheeks.

When Elrond suggested an early night, they made only a token protest. Both of the twins were yawning, an effect of the crushed peles leaves Elrond had furtively added to their meal.  Elladan was clearly still in some pain, and beneath the colourful bruising he was very pale.  Elrohir at times unconsciously still rubbed his arm and shoulder.  A good night’s sleep would do them both good.

~~*~~

Two days later, Legolas suggested an expedition.  Although Elladan still had his arm in a sling, he had otherwise fully recovered, and the bruises were fading.  Alfiel was taking a small group of novices on a walk through Lasgalen as far as the Enchanted River.  As it was a familiarisation exercise, identifying potential hazards, there would be no problem with a few additional members.

“It sounds safe enough,” Elrond admitted, when he heard of the plans.  “And Alfiel will be in charge?   Then I suppose you may go.  Elladan, be careful.  Elrohir, look after your brother.  Legolas – have fun.”

In the end, there were ten in all – Legolas and the twins; Tirnan and Brethil;  Alfiel and  four novices.  They walked in single file, Alfiel at the front, with Taniquel, the most experienced of the novices, at the rear.  The objective was to walk silently.  If Alfiel heard a single footfall, leaf rustle or twig snap, there would be trouble for the culprit.

Legolas was quite impressed with how well Elladan and Elrohir performed.  Unused to the ways of Sindarin or Silvan elves, they nevertheless moved nearly as quietly as the wood elves. 

The day was warm, and sunlight shone down between the trees, which grew thinly here.  Squirrels scurried along branches, leaping effortlessly from tree to tree.  Somewhere behind him, Legolas heard a faint crack as someone stepped on a branch hidden in the grass.

Alfiel spun around.  “Brethil!  Was that you?” he snapped.

“Sorry!” he whispered.

“Think yourself lucky you are not one of my novices!  You could be a guard duty for the next three nights!  Be more careful.”  Alfiel looked around at their surroundings.  “We can stop here for a while.”  He looked appraisingly at his novices, and the five additions.  “You did well, all of you,” he allowed.  “Especially you two.”  He indicated Elrohir and Elladan.

They settled on the grass, but were not permitted to relax.  Alfiel scanned the group.  “Now, who can tell me what dangers you can see here?”

“Wolf tracks!” said Eléntia promptly, pointing them out.

“I can see an old spider web up there,” added Taniquel.  “No sign of spiders now, but they have been here.”

“Snakes, possibly.  On those rocks in the sun.”

“Those ‘mushrooms’ are poisonous.”

“That plant over there,” said Elrohir unexpectedly.  “It looks like athelas, but it isn’t.  If you used it on a wound, it would go septic.”

Alfiel nodded approvingly at each comment. “Good.  Anything else?”

“Yes!” warned Tirnan.  “That spider over there!”

They all turned to where he pointed.  It was some distance away, but moving in their direction.  Alfiel drew an arrow, and felled the spider in one shot.

“Well spotted,” he praised.

They continued on their way without further incident.  They reached the banks of the river by midday, and paused to eat.  This was a popular place to visit.  Generations of elflings had dared each other to cross the river without getting wet, and a rope swing had been constructed, tied securely to a high branch that overhung the river.

The Enchanted River was an oddity of Greenwood.  Legolas knew that his grandfather had done something to it as a means of protecting his realm when he had left for the battles of the Last Alliance.  But no one knew precisely what he had done, not even Thranduil – who had been unable to remove the spell. As a result, the waters caused deep sleep and forgetfulness to any who drank it or fell in.

Swinging from one side to the other was easy.  The best challenge was to see how many times one could cross the river on one push, without becoming stranded, suspended above the water as the rope finally stopped moving.

Discipline was relaxed over lunch, and one by one all the elflings, and even Alfiel, had crossed to the far side.  Elrohir, thinking Elladan would be unable to manage, had declined, only to see his brother swoop past, clinging to the rope with one hand. 

“El, be careful!  You’ll hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!”  Elladan winced a little as he stepped from the rope, the impact jarring his arm slightly.  “Come on, your turn!”

The next part was more challenging.  Tirnan clung on for too long, barely making it back to the bank he had started from on his fourth swing.  Most settled for three crossings, landing back on the bank on the Lasgalen side of the river.  Legolas also tried for four, but had to leap for the bank when it became clear he would be stranded.  His heel splashed into the water.  He jumped back, shaking his foot quickly. 

Several other crossings were made, until finally only Elrohir and Alfiel were left on the far side of the river.  Elrohir, showing off,  tried to be clever and swing five times, but ended up stranded helplessly, dangling above the river, unable to reach the bank.  He was laughing so much he could barely hold on to the rope.

Elladan echoed the laughter. “El, you idiot!  Now what are you going to do?”

“No problem.  This happens a lot,” explained Alfiel calmly.  “Use that branch there to hook the rope.”

Legolas took the branch indicated.  As he glanced back at Alfiel, he tensed.  “Spider!” he shouted.  One lurked several yards behind Alfiel.  Legolas reached for his bow, but then stopped.  He could not fire; Elrohir was directly between him and the spider.

There was a sharp twang behind him from one of the novices.  But the shot missed the spider completely, and instead sliced neatly through the rope.  With a yell, a dreadful curse and a splash, Elrohir dropped straight into the Enchanted River.  Alfiel knelt at the water’s edge, and was shouting something.  “Elrohir, get out, quickly!  Hurry!”

Elladan was almost doubled up with laughter at the look of surprise on his brother’s face.  “Don’t worry!”  Elladan gasped.  “He’s not hurt.  He can swim!”

“Not in this, he can’t!” retorted Legolas.  “It’s enchanted, remember?  Elrohir, get out of there!”

Elrohir surfaced, gasping at the unexpected chill of the water.  He turned to float on his back, laughing up at his twin.  He could see both Legolas and Alfiel shouting at him, but could not hear their words.  He shook the hair out of his eyes and the water out of his ears, but was hit by a sudden wave of dizziness.  He shook his head again and blinked, suddenly feeling a little confused.  Turning, he began to swim slowly to the bank.  It was strange, it now seemed very far away, and he was unsure if he could swim that far …

Elladan’s laughter evaporated very rapidly.  Elrohir’s movements had become strangely lethargic and uncoordinated.  He seemed to have lost the ability to swim.  Elladan looked across the river to Alfiel. 

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked in panic.

When he looked back at his twin, Elladan’s heart nearly stopped.  Elrohir was motionless, floating face down in the water, drifting gently with the flow of the river.

To be continued

Chapter 11 - Elrohir

“El?  Elrohir!”  Elladan’s cry was full of panic.  “Help me get him out!” he pleaded.

Legolas still held the branch he had intended to hook the rope with.  He turned to Elladan.  “Grab hold of my wrist.  Don’t let go!”

With Elladan holding his wrist tightly, Legolas leaned over the water as far as he could.  Stretching out with the branch he managed to snag Elrohir’s belt, and pulled him back to the bank.

Several eager pairs of hands pulled Elrohir out and up onto the bank.  He was limp, unmoving and unresponsive.  Frantically, Elladan felt for a pulse.  He found it, but then looked up in horror.

“He’s not breathing.  He’s not breathing!”

Taniquel pushed Legolas aside, then knelt next to the twins.  “I know what to do.  Move back, and let me help him,” she said softly to Elladan.

Swiftly she checked Elrohir for herself.  He was very pale, and his lips had an alarming bluish tinge.  Carefully she tilted his head back, and pinching his nose firmly closed, exhaled into his mouth – praying that this would work.

Nothing happened.  Desperately, she repeated the procedure.  Still nothing.  *Dear Elbereth, please!*

Elladan knelt beside her, stroking Elrohir’s head.  The combination of his own accident only days before; and the sudden switch from farce to tragedy was too much, and tears streamed down his face.  “Don’t die, El,” he whispered.  “Please don’t die.”

~~*~~

Alfiel felt a deep sense of frustration.  Stranded here on the wrong side of the river, he was powerless to help Elrohir.  The novices, and Legolas, Tirnan and Brethil stood watching the three on the ground in total silence, shocked by what had just happened. And before he could begin to work out how he would get back to them, there was a spider to deal with. 

He turned to see where the spider Legolas had seen was.   It was moving rapidly towards him, using his distraction to scuttle closer.  Thankfully he still had his bow, and several arrows.  The way this expedition had gone so disastrously wrong, it would be just his luck to have left his weapons on the other side of the river.

He drew an arrow and aimed at the spider.  It was fairly low in the tree and fell from its branch just five feet away from him.  There was a second one higher in the tree, and again he killed it with a single shot.  Warily he scanned the forest all around, looking up at the trees above his head.  There was no sign of any more of the beasts.  Turning, he examined the trees on the far side of the river for the creatures.  The last thing the others needed was more trouble.  Thankfully, the area was clear.

There was only one way he was going to be able to get back.  He would have to take his chances, and jump.  The nearest alternative crossing point was the bridge, three miles downstream.  He could not abandon his trainees like that, and by the time he got back Elrohir could be dead.

Alfiel called across to one of the novices.  “Eléntia!  Eléntia!  I shall have to jump across.  Be ready to catch me!”

She dragged her attention away from Elrohir.  “Are you sure?  It looks too far!  If you fall in too …”

He was afraid of that, too.  But there was no choice.  “Then you pull me out.  But I have to try.  I think it the only way.  Are you ready?”

She nodded.  Alfiel moved several feet back from the bank, then ran.  At the edge of the bank he took a mighty leap, and nearly managed to clear the river.  One foot came down in the water, but his boot prevented him getting wet.  He stumbled forward, and Eléntia caught his arm to stop him falling.

Regaining his balance, Alfiel moved over to where Taniquel still crouched over Elrohir.  On her fourth attempt, Elrohir finally took a harsh, gasping breath, and began to cough weakly.  She turned him over onto his side, and watched him anxiously.  He was breathing more normally now, but was still unconscious.  His face was ashen, and damp tendrils of hair clung clammily to his skin.

Taniquel sat back on her heels in relief.  She realised she was shaking with reaction.  Theory was one thing, but it was the first time she had actually done this for real.  She looked up as she felt Alfiel’s hand on her shoulder, then stood.  “Well done,” he said simply.  “Very well done.”

He drew her away from Elladan, and spoke very quietly.  “For how long did he stop breathing?  Do you know?”

Taniquel though hard, looking back over that eternity.  “I – I’m not sure.  A minute?  Two?  No more than that, I think.”

“I hope not,” Alfiel said soberly.  “You did well today.  I shall tell Lord Elrond, and the King of your actions.”

“No!”  she protested.  “You would have done the same.  And Elladan, I think, if he had not been so worried.”

“He was right to be worried.  Taniquel, Elrohir nearly died.  You saved him.”  Alfiel turned then to find Hirilornë, the novice whose wild shot had cut the rope. 

The youngling stood, still clutching his bow, staring in horror at Elrohir.  He looked up, startled, as Alfiel rounded on him.  “You!  What were you thinking of!  You could have killed him!”  Alfiel was white with fury at Hirilornë’s stupidity.  It had been more than carelessness, it was the utmost negligence.  Hirilornë’s arrow had cut the rope only two inches above Elrohir’s head.  A little lower, and there would have been nothing any of them could have done.

“Legolas!  Why did you decide not to shoot at the spider?”

Legolas gaped at Alfiel, wondering why he had been singled out for failing to kill the creature.  “I – I was going to,” he stammered defensively.  “But – but Elrohir was in the way.  I didn’t have a clear shot!”

“Precisely!”  Alfiel turned back to Hirilornë  “Legolas is not even a novice yet.  But he shows more sense than you!”

His anger still at white heat, Alfiel snatched the bow from Hirilornë’s unresisting hands.  “You are not fit to carry this!  Come to see me in the morning!”

Alfiel knew not to impose any penalty while he was so furious.  The way he felt now, Hirilornë would be removed from the ranks for good.  Tomorrow they would both be calmer.

Hirilornë was very subdued.  The enormity of his miscalculation was sinking in.  “Yes, sir.  I’m - I’m sorry, sir.”

Alfiel glared at him one last time. “So you should be.  Think about it tonight.  And remember, I want to see you in the morning.”  He turned his back on Hirilornë and went back to Elrohir and Elladan.  Elladan, reassured that his brother would live, was calmer now.  Elrohir was still unconscious – or, to be more accurate, asleep.  The waters of the Morn Nen had that effect, and none of the usual revival remedies seemed to work.  Elrohir would probably awaken some time the next day, but until then there was nothing to be done.  He stared down at the twins, his anger draining away.  He should not have lost his temper like that.  Hirilornë had made a bad mistake, a potentially fatal mistake,  but he was only a novice. 

What had made matters worse was Alfiel’s sense of helplessness and frustration when he had been unable to do anything, and the horrifying vision he had had of carrying Elrohir’s body back to Elrond.

Drawing a deep breath, Alfiel looked around at the forlorn group.  “Come.  We need to go back to Lasgalen.  Are you all ready?”  He knelt next to Elrohir.  As he pulled him up into a sitting position, Elladan leaned forward and enveloped his brother in a fierce, one-armed hug.  Then he released his brother, and got to his feet, brushing away the traces of tears that still glistened.

“I’m ready.”

Alfiel carried Elrohir, wrapped in a dry cloak against the chill of the river. His head rested against Alfiel’s shoulder.  Elladan walked as close to Alfiel as he could, his gaze rarely leaving his brother’s face.  At times he stumbled over roots or branches.  At last Alfiel stopped.

“Elladan, will you please look where you are going!  I have no wish to return two casualties to your father!”  They were drawing near Lasgalen now, and Alfiel knew he should send warning to Elrond.  He looked at the very subdued party.  “I need someone to run ahead to Lasgalen, to tell Lord Elrond – no, not you, Brethil!”  He had heard of Brethil’s panic-stricken message – was it only two days before?  “Legolas, you go, and Eléntia.  But be careful.  For now, just tell Lord Elrond that Elrohir fell in the Morn Nen.  No more than that.  Do you understand?”

Legolas and Eléntia both nodded, then ran in the direction of Lasgalen.  The remnants of the expedition set off again more slowly.

~~*~~

Thranduil and Elrond were again in the study, poring over an account of the battle of Dagorlad, and a volume of diaries kept by a foot soldier in Isildur’s army.  The minutiae of everyday life was fascinating, even to those who had been there themselves. Their attention was diverted by the sound of light steps running up the stairs, and voices calling. 

“Your Majesty!  Lord Elrond!”

Thranduil and Elrond exchanged glances.  What had occurred this time?  The voices were not as frantic as before, so presumably the matter was not as urgent. 

“Which one do you think it is this time?”  Elrond queried.

Thranduil shrugged.  “I dread to think.”

“Father!  Lord Elrond!”  So, presumably Legolas was alive and well.  At least this time they would get a coherent explanation.

“Not Legolas, clearly.  Elrohir, at a guess.  It must be his turn, surely.”  Elrond sounded resigned, rather than worried.

The study door burst open, and Legolas and one of the trainee warriors stepped hastily into the room.  She looked awed at her proximity to the King, in his personal quarters.

Legolas stopped abruptly, looking from his father, to Elrond, and back again. “Father!  Lord Elrond!  We – we have a problem.  It’s Elrohir.  He fell into the river.”

“He fell in a river?  Then I imagine he is rather wet.  Is that a problem?  He has fallen in the Bruinen many times at home.” Elrond sounded unconcerned.

“He – it was the Morn Nen.”  Legolas stopped, as if that was all the explanation needed.

Elrond was unfamiliar with the name. “Morn Nen?”  he questioned.

“It is also known, to outsiders, as the ‘enchanted river’ ” Thranduil explained.  He watched Legolas carefully.  There was something he was not saying.

Elrond nodded in understanding. “Ah.  I see the problem.  He fell asleep?   You need someone to bring him back?”

“Alfiel is bringing him back.  But we – we thought you should know.”   Legolas and his companion exchanged a worried glance.

Elrond patted Legolas on the shoulder.  “Do not worry, elfling.  Shall we go to meet them?”

Eléntia bowed, then led Elrond down the stairs.  When they were out of sight, Thranduil held Legolas back.  “What is it you did not say?  What else happened?”

Legolas felt relieved to tell his father.  “I told you he fell in the river.  We didn’t get him out in time.  He – he stopped breathing.”

“Dear Valar!” exclaimed Thranduil in shock.  “Is he dead?  But you told Elrond …”

“No!  Yes, he stopped breathing.  But Taniquel – oh, Father, she was marvellous, she saved him, and he’s all right now, but we thought it best not to tell Elrond everything, not at once, we didn’t want to worry him.”

‘Worry’, reflected Thranduil, was scarcely the right word to use.  If he had known the whole story, Elrond would have been more than worried, he would be beside himself.  They caught up with Elrond and Eléntia by the bridge, and had not gone far before they met Alfiel’s group.  Elrond immediately went to Alfiel’s side, taking Elrohir from him, and looked at him carefully.  He somehow managed to find a spare arm to hug Elladan as well, before lifting Elrohir again.  Reassured that there did not appear to be anything obviously wrong, they returned to Lasgalen.        

Thranduil had sent a messenger to find Calmacil, who knew the effects of the Morn Nen well.  There were one or two victims every year, usually over confident elflings who, having been dared to swim, jump or swing across, found out their limitations the hard way.  They all recovered, with nothing worse than a long sleep, a slight headache, and some odd gaps in their memories of the incident.

It was not until Elrohir was in bed, stripped of his wet clothes, and warmly wrapped in blankets, that Alfiel admitted to Elrond the true seriousness of what had happened.  Elrond was shocked, and questioned Alfiel closely.

“You say he stopped breathing.  How long for?  Do you know?  What happened then?  Do you know if he breathed in any water?  Are you sure?”

Alfiel attempted to answer Elrond’s frantic questions. “I’m not entirely sure how long he stopped breathing.  The others said it was ‘forever’, but I think only one or two minutes.  No more.  And because of that, I do not think he inhaled any water.  But Taniquel can tell you more.”

Taniquel was a little embarrassed at the close attention she was receiving.  “I did nothing that Alfiel could not have done.  We all learn it during our warrior training.  I did nothing special.”

“Lady Taniquel, you saved the life of my son.”  Elrond’s expression was sombre.  “That is very special.  You have my eternal, undying thanks.”

“And mine,” added Elladan.  To her surprise, and his own, Elladan leaned forward and kissed Taniquel on the cheek.  She blushed scarlet. 

“I – I was glad to help.”

Finally left alone, Elrond sat on the edge of Elrohir’s bed, Elladan opposite him.  Elrohir slept peacefully, but would not awaken, Calmacil assured him, until the next day.  Until then, there was nothing they could do but wait to see if Elrohir had suffered any more serious effects.  It was simply a matter of time.

Long after Elladan slept, Elrond gazed down at his younger son.  What had happened could so easily have had a very different outcome.  And it was not the first time he had feared for Elrohir’s life.  Even at birth, his survival had been in doubt.  It was another stark reminder of the fragility of life, even an immortal one. 

To be continued

Author’s notes:  Brethil and the ‘Morn Nen’ are Treehugger’s.  Many thanks for the loan.

Chapter 12 - The Sweet Forgetfulness of Sleep

Elrond was wakeful all that night, watching over his son as he slept.    There was a slight possibility that Elrohir had inhaled some of the river water.  It seemed unlikely, but if he had, it could still cause serious complications.

The night passed uneventfully, but Elrond was alert to every slight sound that Elrohir made, every small movement, every tiny irregularity in his breathing.  By the time dawn finally came he was tense as well as tired, and was grateful to see Calmacil enter.

“How is he?”  the healer enquired.

“Sleeping peacefully.  Which is more that I have been able to do,”  admitted Elrond.

Calmacil checked Elrohir for himself, gauging his level of consciousness.  “I think he should awaken in a few hours.  Remember, he will have some loss of his short-term memory, but you must not be alarmed.   Neither should he.  Most of it will return over the next few days.  But you should be aware that there is the possibility that some memories, particularly of yesterday itself, will never return.”

“Never?”  Elrond looked down at his son.  Would Elrohir suffer from a permanent memory loss?

“The hours immediately before falling into the river tend to be lost for ever.  But it varies so much.  It can be a whole day, or just a few minutes.  Sometimes there is no permanent loss at all.”

“What else can you tell me of the memory loss?”  Elrond felt he needed to know as much as possible if he was to help Elrohir through this.

Calmacil frowned. “It tends to be - erratic.  Elrohir may remember nothing of the journey here, but will recall events that happened after you arrived.  There may even be some patchy memory loss of things that took place in Imladris, although that is unlikely.  Most of those memories will return, in full.  You must reassure him.   It can be very - distressing - at first to realise that so much has been lost.”

Elrond was now looking even more alarmed than ever.  Calmacil hastened to reassure him.  “There are no serious, long term effects!  There are many here who have fallen in, with no permanent consequences.”  Calmacil decided it was time to change the subject a little, and lightened the tone of the conversation.  Elrond had been looking far too drawn and worried over the last few days. “How much will you tell him of what happened?”

“The truth.   All of it.  It would be better for him to hear it from me, rather than an exaggerated, garbled version from anyone else.  He will not be the first or the last foolish elfling to fall in!”

“Yes.  I think you are right.  You should not try to hide it.  And  ...  no, perhaps I should not tell you this.”

Elrond was curious now. “Tell me what?” 

“Well ... it is not always just elflings who fall in.  Others have, as well.”  Calmacil smiled, as if at an old memory.

“Like who?”

Calmacil had a definite glint in his eyes.  “You must promise never to say where you heard this.”

“You have my word.  Who was it?”  Elrond sounded intrigued.

“Thranduil.”

“Thranduil fell in?”  exclaimed Elrond in amazement.

“It was a few months after he was crowned.  He and the Queen went to the river to see if the enchantment could be lifted.  Whether he thought he had been successful, whether he fell, or there was some other cause, we never knew.”

“Why not?”

“He was never able to remember!” said Calmacil with a chuckle.

Elrond gave a shout of laughter, which he hastily stifled, with a guilty look at his sons.  He did not wish to disturb them.  And it was not really funny ...

“There were some who claimed that Telparian had pushed him in,” added Calmacil.

“And did she?”

“We never found out.  She never said, and he could not remember!  Or at least, he claimed he did not remember.”

Elrond laughed again.  He wondered if Legolas knew the story.  He would have to remember to tell Elladan and Elrohir - though it might be best to wait until they had left Lasgalen.

Calmacil left then, leaving Elrond to his lonely vigil - but his heart was much lightened by Calmacil’s reassurances, and by his story. 

Elrohir finally  began to stir at about mid morning.  He stretched and yawned, blinking sleepily - exactly as he had done when very young, awakening from an afternoon nap.  Elrond watched him anxiously.  At last Elrohir opened his eyes, an expression of surprise crossing his face as he saw Elrond peering at him.  “Father?  What is it? Is something wrong?”  His gaze went past Elrond to the window.  The sun was high, he could tell.  “What time is it?  It seems late.”

“About four hours after dawn.  Elrohir, how do you feel?  Do you know where we are?”

Elrohir have his father a strange look.  What odd questions he was asking.  “Where are we?  In Lasgalen, of course!  We arrived here the day before yesterday.  And I feel fine.”

“The day before yesterday.  I see.  And can you remember what you did yesterday?”

Elrohir glanced at Elladan, hoping for support from him, but he was asleep in a chair, covered with a light blanket, which was strange as well. There was no help there. Deciding it would be best to humour his father, Elrohir explained what had happened patiently.  “We rode through Lasgalen with Thranduil and Legolas.  Then we played with - with some wolf cubs, and explored a small ravine.  We found a cave there.”

Elrond had not missed the slight hesitation on ‘wolf cubs’, but it seemed as if Elrohir was hiding something, rather than not remembering.  “I see.  What about the next day?”

“Father, this is the next day!”  Elrohir looked at Elladan again, wondering what was wrong with him -  and with their father.  At the sound of their voices, Elladan awoke, shifting slightly. 

As Elladan turned his head, Elrohir noticed that his brother’s face was bruised, and his arm was in a sling.  “El!  What’s wrong?  What happened to you?”

“Don’t you remember, little brother?  You pushed me out of a tree!”  Elladan declared with a wicked grin.

Elrohir gaped at him, but before he could say anything, Elrond interrupted.  “Elladan, would you please go down to the kitchens and ask for some food to be sent up?  Now?”

Elladan, with a glance at his father, stood, and departed hurriedly.  Elrohir watched him go with a bemused expression.  He was beginning to feel confused.  “Father? What is it?  What’s been going on?”

Elrond hesitated, wondering where to start.  Elrohir had lost nearly a week of his time in Lasgalen.  “Elrohir, yesterday there was - an accident.  Do you remember me telling you about the enchanted river?”

Elrohir nodded.  “Yes, of course.”

“A group went there yesterday, and one of them - fell in.”

“Fell in?  That could be serious.  If they were unconscious, they could drown!  Who was it?  I bet it was Brethil!  It sounds just like him!  Is he all right?”  Elrohir was concerned, and also a little puzzled.  What had this to do with anything?

“El, it was you!  It was awful, I thought you were dead!”  Elladan had reappeared, still hovering in the doorway.

“Me?”  Elrohir echoed in disbelief.  “El, what are you talking about?  We never went near that river yesterday!  You know that.  We were with Thranduil, then just Legolas.”

“Elladan, I thought you were going down to the kitchens?” Elrond asked pointedly.

When Elladan had finally gone, Elrond turned back to his younger son.  Elrohir was thoroughly confused, and a little worried.  He had the uneasy feeling that something was wrong, but he could not say what.  The ride with Thranduil and Legolas somehow seemed much longer ago than yesterday.  And what on earth had Elladan been talking about?  Both his father and brother were acting very strangely.

Elrond sat on the edge of the bed again, and took Elrohir’s hand between his.  He wanted to keep this short and simple.  Elrohir had to know, but he did not want to terrify him.  He recited the stark facts as dispassionately as he could.  Elrohir listened to his father in disbelief, silent for once, his eyes wide.

“But - you mean - I -” he said at last.  He stopped, shaking his head in frustration.  “I can’t remember!  I don’t remember anything about it!  The last thing I can remember is the day El, Legolas and I went out with Thranduil. Then we split up.  Legolas showed us some ... wolf cubs, and we found a cave in a tiny valley.”  His voice fell, and he added quietly, “I thought it was yesterday.  You said it was a week ago?”

There was that odd hesitation on ‘wolf cubs’ again.  Elrond wondered what had happened. “Yes.  It was a very - eventful - week.  Calmacil said your memory will return, some time over the next few days.  It will not be permanent.  Do you want to talk to him?  He knows far more about the effects than I do.”

Elrohir considered this.  “No.  Not yet.  Maybe later.  And I don’t want you to tell me what happened since we came here, either.  I want to see what I can remember on my own.”

Elrond wondered at times who Elrohir had inherited his iron will from.  His stubbornness certainly did not come from either his father or mother, who were both far more amenable to suggestions.  It was, however, a trait shared by Oropher and all his descendants.  If he had not known better, he would have looked hard in Thranduil’s direction for parentage of the twins, or Elrohir at least .

“Very well,” Elrond agreed.  “I shall tell Elladan, too.  But you must promise to tell me when you remember something, or if you are worried.  Promise me?”

Elrohir nodded.  “Yes, father.”  He sounded rather subdued.

The door, which Elrond had closed after Elladan’s departure, began to open slowly.  Elladan came in, precariously balancing a laden tray while he manipulated the door handle - entirely one handed.  He deposited the tray on a table, and straightened triumphantly.  “I knew I could do it!  I told that old fool I could!”  His voice took on a portentous tone: “ ‘But master Elladan, you cannot possibly do it like that!  You will drop everything!  Think of the mess!  You will not be able to manage!’  Ha!  I knew I could carry it without dropping everything!”

Elrond managed to look stern.  “Elladan, you should not be so disrespectful of the servants here.  You should apologise.”  However, he was unable to suppress a grin at Elladan’s wickedly accurate imitation of Lanatus.  It could be no one else.  Elrohir, though, was looking rather puzzled. 

“Who are you talking about?”  he asked blankly.  “And El, I still don’t know what happened to you!  Don’t tell me that I pushed you out of a tree, I know I didn’t!  I told Thranduil that.”  Elrohir stopped, as surprised by his words as the others were.  There had been a swift flash of memory, as brief, fleeting and illuminating  as lightning at midnight.  It was gone again just as quickly.

“You told Thranduil?”  asked Elrond carefully.

Elrohir nodded, startled.  “Yes.”  He could recall himself kneeling next to Thranduil, the king’s hand on his shoulder, seeing his father bent over Elladan, who lay motionless on the ground.  He could hear himself, protesting indignantly: “I didn’t push him!  I didn’t!”  There was nothing else.  The brief memory both startled and alarmed him; and oddly, reassured him.  It alarmed him because it confirmed that he had indeed lost so much.  It reassured him because the memories were still there, and would presumably return in full.

He shook his head, then grimaced as an unpleasant smell came to him.  He seized a lock of his hair and sniffed. It was lank, limp, and smelled foul.  “I need a bath,” he muttered.

Elladan was trying, not very hard, not to laugh.  “You fell in the river, little brother,” he said in explanation.

Elrohir slid out of bed, and headed for the bathing room.  To be honest, he needed the time alone to think about what his father had said.  It was difficult to know which was most unsettling; the fact that he had clearly nearly died, or the fact that he could not remember.

Equally uncomfortable was the thought that Taniquel - whoever she was; a novice warrior - had saved his life.  He would have to thank her - somehow.  What, in the name of Elbereth, did one say in such circumstances?  ‘Thank you’ hardly seemed enough.

After a hot, leisurely bath, Elrohir felt a little more relaxed.  He came back into the main room, and eyed the tray Elladan had brought in hungrily.  It was piled with fresh bread, fruit, butter, cheese, honey and a pitcher of creamy milk.

“El, how did you manage to get so much?” he asked at last.  There was a vague memory of illicit visits to the kitchens, taking a single loaf, or wedge of cheese.

“I remembered what Legolas told me,” Elladan explained.  “I asked Mireth if you could have some breakfast.   She wanted to know if it was enough!”

Both Elrohir and Elladan ate hungrily, and Elrond joined them.  He had been too anxious to eat anything the evening before, and welcomed the meal.  As they were finishing, there was a knock on the door, and Legolas entered. He looked delighted to see Elrohir  awake and alert.

“I came to see if you were feeling better,” he explained.  “We were all worried.”

Elrohir glanced first at his father, then at his brother, with a puzzled expression.  Then he looked up at Legolas blankly. “Who are you?” he asked.

To be continued ...

 .

Chapter 13 - Mornenitis

Legolas stopped dead just inside the door, staring at Elrohir in disbelief.  “Elrohir?”  he said uncertainly.  “You know me!  You must remember!”

Elladan swallowed hard, trying desperately not to laugh.  But the innocently bland expression Elrohir turned on Legolas was almost too much.   He knew, beyond doubt, that his brother was perfectly well aware of who his visitor was - though he could not have explained how he knew.   However, it was clear that their father had not caught on yet.

Elrond was looking at Elrohir in concern, wondering what had happened.  Surely he must know who Legolas was?  He had been talking about him only minutes before. But Calmacil had warned that the effects could be erratic.  Elrond had simply not realised just how erratic that could be.

Elrohir was still regarding Legolas blankly.  He was enjoying himself immensely.  He frowned, as if trying to recall who this was.

“Brethil?” he said at last, sounding very unsure.  “Are you Brethil?”

“No, I’m not!” exclaimed Legolas indignantly.  “Are you out of your mind?”  Immediately, he bit back the words guiltily.  Maybe Elrohir was out of his mind?  He certainly seemed to have been far more badly affected than Legolas had feared.  “I’m Legolas,” he added, more gently.  “Don’t you remember?”

Elladan dropped his knife onto the floor, and ducked down behind the table  to retrieve it, unable to contain his laughter any longer.  He had never suspected his brother was such a fine actor.  He spent a long time searching for the knife, his shoulders shaking as he giggled helplessly.

He took a deep breath and finally straightened.  Legolas was still speaking to Elrohir soothingly, reminding him of some of the things they had done. His concern was very touching.

“You remember Legolas, brother,” Elladan said calmly.  “He calls us Ellahir.  He can’t tell the difference between us.”

Now Elrohir turned his bemused gaze on his twin.  “But why not?  Your arm ...”

“That happened later.  It’s something else you don’t remember yet.” Elladan spoke reassuringly.

Legolas watched the conversation with a growing concern for Elrohir’s state of mind.  Finally he turned to Elrond.  “Shall I send for Calmacil, Lord Elrond?”

Elrond nodded distractedly.  “Yes.  Thank you.  I think you should.”  He sounded flustered.  As Legolas shut the door, Elrohir and Elladan could contain themselves no longer, and fell across the bed, laughing helplessly. 

Elrond sighed wearily.  He should have realised, especially as Elrohir had mentioned Legolas only moments before.  Elladan, with that odd telepathy the twins shared, had known precisely what Elrohir was doing.  It was just another twincident. 

With their uncanny ability to read each other’s minds, Elrond  had found himself their unwitting victim on several occasions.  There had been many such twincidents over the years at Imladris - enough that he should have recognised the signs immediately.  He glared at his sons.  “That was rather unfair.  Poor Legolas was most concerned, Elrohir.  I think you both owe him an apology.  And Calmacil too, as he will have been dragged down here unnecessarily.”

“We’re sorry, father,” they said simultaneously.  That was another bad sign, Elrond reflected.

“It was just his face -” Elrohir began.

“When El said ‘Who are you?’ ”  Elladan finished.

They both had broad grins, recalling Legolas’ dumbfounded expression.  Then, exchanging yet another look, both said “Are you Brethil?” and began to laugh again.

Reluctantly, Elrond found himself smiling, then laughing with the twins.  Their mirth was infectious.  And it was a relief to see Elrohir in such high spirits.

~~**~~

As the door closed behind him, Legolas leaned against the wall, deep in thought.  Part of him wondered if Elrohir’s confusion was genuine, or if it was some sort of twin conspiracy.  But then he dismissed the thought as unworthy, telling himself that he had a suspicious mind. Just because he would have done something similar himself, it did not mean that Elrohir had.  And his friend’s expression of utter bewilderment could surely not have been feigned?

Elladan, too, had been behaving very oddly.  After dropping his knife, he had been very red in the face, and his eyes were suspiciously bright.  Legolas wondered if he had been crying, and trying to hide it. He must be extremely worried about his brother, after all. 

The sooner Legolas found Calmacil, the better, he decided. 

He found the healer in the infirmary, checking stocks with Tirana, a newly qualified healer, who had just completed her training.  “Calmacil?  Lord Elrond asked me to find you.  It’s Elrohir.  There’s something wrong.  He - he didn’t recognise me.”  Legolas explained hesitantly.

“Then I shall go and see him.  I warned Elrond that this could happen.  You need not worry, this is quite normal.  Elrohir will remember soon.”  He spoke to reassure Legolas, who seemed rather worried.  It was easy to forget that the family or friends of one who fell in the river could be upset by the memory loss too. 

“I know that.  But Calmacil,  he stopped breathing.  It seemed so long.  I wondered if - if that was what was wrong.”  Legolas knew he would never forget the horror of those endless minutes when he thought Elrohir was dead, or dying.  “I know it could have affected him.”

“How do you know so much about this, little one?  I spoke to Alfiel and Taniquel.  They were both certain it was no more that two minutes - though it must have seemed far longer to you, and especially for Elladan.  But it was not long enough to cause any harm.  Elrohir will remember, in time.  But why did you think that was what was wrong?”

Legolas hesitated.  This was something he had only ever told his father before.  But who better than Calmacil?    “Well - I thought if I’m not good enough to be a warrior when I’m older, I want to train as a healer, like you, and Lord Elrond.  Like my mother.”

Calmacil was initially surprised, but then, after a moment’s reflection, decided this was not altogether unexpected.  Legolas had a great deal of compassion and concern for others, like Telparian, who had reluctantly decided to abandon her training when she married Thranduil.  What was perhaps more surprising was Legolas’ fear that he would not be a warrior.  Young as he was, he was undoubtedly the best of his generation.  Having Thranduil’s best archers and swordsmen teaching him helped, but there was an innate ability that was most unusual. 

He smiled down at the young prince. “I think you would make a very fine healer.  But somehow I think you will be an even better warrior - perhaps even Army Commander one day?”

“Army Commander?  Like Orionë is?”  Legolas was incredulous.  “I’ll never be that good!”

“No?  Who won the Spring contest this year?”

“Well, yes, I know, but that was just a game.”  Legolas was dismissive of his achievement.  “But Army Commander?  Don’t be silly!  But please, Calmacil, will you go and see Elrohir?  What’s wrong with him?”

When he reached the twin’s room, Calmacil was very much on the alert.  He not only had a great deal of experience with the effects of the Morn Nen, he had also seen all the different and varied reactions to the loss of memory.  Some were distraught and upset, while many others realised the huge potential for mischief they were offered - by ‘forgetting’ lessons, promises made, inconvenient arrangements, and friends.

As he entered the room, Calmacil watched Elrohir carefully, and did not miss the flicker of guilt in his eyes.  It was mirrored by Elladan.  So, he had known Legolas, as suspected.

Calmacil was a little surprised that Legolas had been taken in by the twins, as surely he knew only too well what they were like.  Calmacil also knew with certainty that it was exactly what Legolas himself would have done if the roles had been reversed.

“Lord Calmacil, it is good of you to come.  But I think I should tell you ...”  Elrond began.

Calmacil gave a minute shake of his head and winked, gesturing for  Elrond to take Elladan out.  Alone in the room with Elrohir, the healer turned to look at him with an expression of concern.  “Legolas tells me that you did not recognise him.  Usually the effects of the river only affect memories for a few days previously, but I know you met Legolas before that.  So I think I must look for other reasons.”

Elrohir began to look even more guilty.  “Well, really, I ...”

Calmacil would not let him finish.  “Hush, young one.  Let me think.  When you awoke, did you know where you were?  Did you know your father?  Your brother?”

Elrohir nodded to each question, and tried again to explain.  “But you see, I didn’t really ...”

“I said no talking.  Do you have a headache?”

“A bit.”  Elrohir admitted.  “But I ...”

“Sit down.  Let me have a look at you.”  Calmacil knelt before Elrohir.  “Now, follow the movement of my finger.”  He moved his long forefinger from left to right, watching as Elrohir’s eyes tracked it.  “Hmmm.  I see.  Very well, now this.”

Starting at arm’s length, Calmacil slowly moved his finger towards Elrohir until it touched his nose,  Elrohir going completely cross-eyed as he watched.  “Oh.  So that means … oh dear,” Calmacil muttered to himself.

As the examination progressed, Calmacil’s expression of concern deepened, until he looked very grave indeed.  By now Elrohir was very worried.  Calmacil was obviously extremely troubled by what he was seeing, and at times sighed and shook his head.   He was not as good a healer as his father was, Elrohir decided.  Elrond always kept a neutral expression, reassuring a patient all the time, no matter how worried he was really.  He would never have murmured ‘Oh dear’ as Calmacil had done several times.

Every time Elrohir tried to explain that he had not really forgotten Legolas at all, Calmacil hushed him.

At last Calmacil sat down on the bed opposite.  “Elrohir.  I know what it is that affects you.”  He paused, searching for words.  “Do you want me to get your father?  Perhaps I should talk to him first?  I think it would be better.”

Elrohir, his mouth dry, shook his head, and swallowed.  “No,”  he whispered. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”  Despite the denial, he wished desperately that his father or Elladan was with him.

“We call it Mornenitis,” Calmacil began.

“Mornenitis?  What does that mean?”

“It means -”  and Calmacil began to smile - “It means elflings who try to fool their friends, and worry them by ‘forgetting’ who they are, get what they deserve.”

“You - you mean ...”  Elrohir’s face flooded with relief.  “Calmacil, that wasn’t fair!”

“It was as fair as worrying Legolas and your father with that trick was,”  Calmacil replied.

Elrohir looked up at him.  “How did you know?”

“I have seen many elflings who have fallen in.  Nearly all of them have done the same thing!”  *And not all of them were elflings*  Calmacil reflected.

“Will you tell Legolas?”

Calmacil smiled. “I rather think that depends on you.  But he is no fool, and will probably work it out for himself.”

Elrohir hung his head. “Calmacil, I’m sorry.  It wasn’t fair to Legolas, and I shouldn’t have wasted your time.”

Calmacil smiled again.  “It was not wasted time, I escaped a very uninteresting stock take of my medicines. By now, someone else will have done it for me!  Now, I think it must be nearly lunch time.  I expect you are hungry again?”

“Well ... yes.”

“Then shall we go?”

~~**~~

By the end of the next day, Elrohir had recovered nearly all his memories of Lasgalen, including the midnight excursion with Legolas and Huan, the subsequent feast; and the terrifying spider hunt at midnight with Elladan.  They had both been so scared, Elrohir wondered how he could possibly have forgotten that walk.   He had also recalled the letters which had arrived from Imladris  - and his letter from Athela - Elladan’s teasing, and the awful moment when Elladan had fallen.  He had already remembered odd snippets of that, when he was speaking to Thranduil, and although there were still some odd gaps in events, he was confident that he had remembered most of what had happened, and what he had lost.

At supper that day he sat near Legolas again.  They had not seen much of each other that day, as Legolas had been out with his father.  As usual, Legolas wanted to know what else Elrohir had remembered since the morning.  “Do you remember when we went back to the stables with Huan?  And the food we took from the kitchens?  And that horrible, smelly cheese?”

Elrohir nodded. “Yes, and when we went past my father’s room he opened the door, and your father was there too, but they didn’t guess!”

“Do you remember when we had to stay in all morning because they found a spider, and we went exploring?”

“Yes, and we found a tapestry, and it had Glorfindel on it!  Legolas, you have to come to Imladris one day, and you can meet Glorfindel, and my sister, and my mother!”

Legolas nodded enthusiastically.  “That would be wonderful!  I’ve never been outside Greenwood, only to Laketown.  Do you remember that afternoon when  we went to the bathing pool, you and Elladan and Brethil and me, and Brethil fell in?”

Elrohir hesitated, looking at Legolas a little uncertainly.  “I’m - I’m not sure.  When was that?” 

“Four days ago! Do you remember?”

“We - went swimming?”

“That’s right!  You do remember!”  Legolas was enthusiastic, but Elrohir was less so.  He could recall absolutely nothing about a bathing pool, or swimming, or Brethil falling in anywhere.  It was rather a blow.  He had thought his memory had very nearly returned in full, but here was a whole afternoon that was still missing.

There was clearly still a long way to go before he was fully recovered.

To Be Continued

Chapter 14 - Homeward Bound

After supper, Elrohir left Legolas, and went to find Elladan.  He found his brother talking to Tirnan and sat down with them, feeling rather dejected.

Elladan noticed his sombre mood, and broke off the conversation.  “What’s wrong with you?”  he asked in surprise.

“Nothing,” Elrohir replied morosely.

Elladan looked at him more closely.  “What is it?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing, really.  I just ...”  he stopped.  Elladan and Tirnan both waited expectantly, but Elrohir said nothing more.

Elladan sighed, then got to his feet.  “Excuse us,” he said briefly to Tirnan.  “Come on, El.”  He pulled Elrohir up, then turned and led the way out of the hall, and through the main doors.  He did not cross the bridge, but instead turned to the left. Between the palace and the forest stream that formed a moat around Lasgalen, was a narrow strip of land, only a few feet wide.  After a few hundred yards the track curved around the hill and petered out.  The banks of the stream met the hill here, and they could go no further.  The path had widened slightly, and formed a secluded, grassed area, partly screened by bushes.  It was a place that  Legolas had told them he used when he wanted to be alone, but had to stay close to Lasgalen, as it was out of sight, but within earshot of the doors.  Elladan hoped Legolas would not mind them using his secret place.

“Sit down,” Elladan ordered.  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to get Father?  You know you promised to tell him if there was anything the matter.”

Elrohir sighed.  He knew better than try to avoid what was worrying him when Elladan was like this.  “Oh, El.  It’s just ... I thought I was getting better.  I thought I’d remembered most of what happened this week,” he explained slowly.

“You have.  I know you still don’t want me to tell you about the parts you’ve forgotten, but you have remembered most things.  So what’s the problem?”  Elladan sounded rather puzzled.

Elrohir hesitated for a long moment.  “I was talking to Legolas tonight.  He wanted to know what else I’ve remembered.  So we were talking about the food we took from the kitchens and shared, and that tapestry of Glorfindel and the Balrog - I’ve asked Legolas to come to Imladris one day, he wants to see Glorfindel - and when you and I went along the Spider Path.”

“Legolas wasn’t supposed to know about that,”  Elladan interrupted.  “We didn’t tell him we went.”

“Oh.  I thought he seemed surprised.  You see, that’s another thing I’ve forgotten!  I remembered that we went, but not that he didn’t know!”  Elrohir was frustrated at this reminder of yet memory he had lost.

Elladan waited for his brother to continue, then prompted, “Another thing?  What else was there?”

“It was something we did, one afternoon.  I don’t remember any of it, El!  Not even little bits.  I know there are things I’ve forgotten, there are still some gaps, but I’m getting used to that, and mostly I know the gaps are there.  This time, I didn’t even realise that there was anything missing.  It’s a whole afternoon, El, and I can’t remember anything about it!  How much more is there I just don’t know about?”  Elrohir paused for breath, then looked at Elladan quizzically.  “Does any of this make any sense to you?”

Elladan nodded slowly.  “Yes.  Yes, it does make sense.  I think I know what you mean.  But what was it you can’t remember?  You have remembered most things.”

“Legolas told me about when we went to the pool, and going swimming, and Brethil falling in.  I - I don’t remember it at all, not anything.”  Elrohir sighed again, finally voicing his deepest fear.  “El, I sometimes wonder if my memory’s ever going to come back properly.  It - it scares me.”  He glanced at his twin, somehow relieved by the confession.  He was surprised to see a growing anger and indignation in Elladan’s expression.

 “Legolas told you that?  That we went swimming?  El, there’s a very good reason why you don’t know about that afternoon.  It never happened!  He’s trying to make you think it’s something you’ve forgotten!  How could he do that?  It’s not fair!”

Elrohir gazed at his brother, astounded.  “It never happened?  That’s why I don’t remember?  It’s not because of what happened at the river?”  Immense relief swept through him.  His apparent relapse had worried him even more than he had let on to Elladan.

“No, it never happened,”  Elladan repeated grimly.  He was furious on his brother’s behalf, indignant at the trick that had been played on him.  Didn’t Legolas realise the effect it had had on him?  But then, to his amazement, Elrohir began to laugh.

“He made it up?  All of it?  I wondered when he’d get revenge for me pretending I didn’t know who he was!  Oh, El, admit it, it’s even better than one of our jokes!”  The relief had made him light-hearted.

“A joke?  Is that what it was?”

“Well, you must admit, it fooled me.  It fooled me completely.  And let’s face it, El, it really wasn’t fair to make Legolas think I’d forgotten who he was. You saw how worried he was, when he went to find Calmacil.  I think this makes us even!”

Elladan was still not satisfied. “Well, I don’t think it was fair of Calmacil, either, scaring you like that.  He’s a healer!  I don’t think Father would do such a thing.”

Elrohir tried to imagine their father leading a patient to jump to conclusions as Calmacil had done, but failed utterly.  “No, maybe not,” he admitted.  “But El, I don’t want you to say anything to Legolas.  He was only getting back at me for what we did.  I think we deserve it, don’t you?”

He did not wait for Elladan to answer, but let the way back along the path to the doors of Lasgalen.   “Come on.  I want to see if Taniquel’s back yet.”  Elrohir had not yet had the opportunity to thank Taniquel for himself.  She had left the previous morning on an overnight patrol, and was not due back until evening.  He had thought very carefully about what he was going to say, though it was difficult to find the right words.  But it was still not going to be easy.  And there was an initial hurdle before he even started, one that he needed Elladan’s help with.

He stopped as they entered the great hall, catching Elladan’s arm.  “El?  Can you tell me if she’s here?  I - I don’t think I’ll be able to recognise her,”  Elrohir admitted, cursing his unreliable memory.

Elladan briefly considered pointing out someone else instead, but decided it would be too cruel, especially as he had just criticised Legolas for playing tricks with Elrohir’s mind.  In any case, he did not think their father would see the funny side of it.  He scanned the hall and spotted Taniquel with a group of novices who had just come in.

“Yes, over there.  Come on.”  Elladan led the way across the hall. 

As they approached the group, Elrohir stopped his brother again.  “It is Taniquel, isn’t it?  Not one of her friends? You’re not playing games?”

“Of course it’s her!  Would I try to trick you, El?”  Elladan demanded indignantly.

“Yes!”

“Well, I did think about it,”  Elladan admitted with a grin.  “But you’re safe, it is Taniquel, I promise.”

When they reached the small group of novices, Elrohir spoke hesitantly.  “Taniquel?”

She turned and gave him a wide smile.  “Elrohir!  It’s good to see you.  You look a little better than you did the other day!”

Elrohir shuffled his feet, feeling awkward again.  He felt uncharacteristically hesitant and tongue-tied.  Stumbling a little, he began his speech.  “Yes.  Thank you.  My father told me what happened at the river.  He told me what you did.  He told me that - that you saved my life.  I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Your father already has.  And your brother. And like I told them, there’s no need.  I’m just glad I could help.”  Taniquel seemed self-conscious at the looks she was getting from her companions.

“Well, thank you anyway,” Elrohir repeated.  “I won’t forget it.”

“You already have,” Elladan pointed out helpfully.

“Shut up, El!  You know what I mean!” 

Elrohir felt in his pocket, and found a small carving he had made.  He had been working on it for some days, planning to take it home for Arwen. He would have to find something else for his sister now, but had decided Taniquel was a more deserving recipient.  During the course of the day he had finished it, finally staining the wood with a dark dye. 

It was a squirrel, black like the creatures native to the Greenwood.  It sat on its haunches, nibbling a nut held between its forepaws, bushy tail erect, and pricked ears slightly tufted.

He held it out to Taniquel now, the little creature sitting on the palm of his hand.  “I made this for you.”

She took it and looked at it carefully, at the nut it held, at the details Elrohir had carefully carved, then looked up with a smile.  “Elrohir, thank you!  It’s lovely!”

To his embarrassment and pleasure, she lent forward, and gave him a swift kiss.  Elladan looked on, staring at his brother in amazement.  How did he do it?  First Athela, now Taniquel.  How many others were there?

Taniquel moved up slightly on the bench.  “Sit down and join us.  Tell me about Imladris.  I’ve never been there.  What’s it like?”

Elrohir began to describe their home, the valley, the Bruinen, the waterfalls along its length, the ford.  “On the far side of the ford there’s a wood, the Trollshaws.  But my father  says it’s dangerous, so we’re not allowed to go there. Elladan keeps trying to talk him round, though!”

“Why is it dangerous?”

“There are trolls there!”  they chorused.  Taniquel suppressed a smile at this latest example of ‘twinspeak’, an expression she had heard Elrond use. He swore they did it on purpose.

Elrohir flushed slightly.  It was rather embarrassing that they still did this.  It was a different matter when it was deliberate, usually done to annoy someone like Glorfindel or Erestor.  But all too often, it was unintentional.  They would finish each other’s sentences, or say the same thing at the same time.  Or worse.  On far too many mornings, he had dressed hurriedly, selecting clothes at random, only to arrive for breakfast - late - to find Elladan dressed identically.  He often wondered if they would ever grow out of it.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he could be just ‘Elrohir’, not ‘Elladan and Elrohir’ or ‘one of the twins’.  But he could never say that to Elladan, it would hurt him too much.  He felt guilty acknowledging it, even to himself.  And equally, he could not imagine life without his brother.

“Do you do that a lot?”  Taniquel was asking.

“Do what?”  Elladan sounded puzzled.

“Talk at the same time.  Say the same things.”

Elladan sighed.  “We try not to.  Sometimes it just - happens.”

“Really?  I was there when you first arrived here.  Did that ‘just happen’ ?”

“Oh.  That.”  Elladan recalled how they had deliberately dressed alike, down to identical hairstyles, for the benefit of Thranduil and Legolas.

“And that evening?  When Legolas couldn’t work out who was who?”

“That was deliberate,”  Elrohir admitted.  “It didn’t fool him for long, though.  I still don’t know how he worked it out!”

Taniquel shook her head.  “I pity your parents,” she commented.  “In fact, I feel sorry for everyone in Imladris.  I thought Legolas was bad enough, but at least there’s only one of him!  He’ll miss you when you go back home.  I  think we all will.”

“You’re not going home already, are you?”  Legolas had approached, unseen.  He looked dismayed, but had other things on his mind.  “Elrohir, you know what we were talking about earlier?”

“What about it?”  Elladan answered, sounding suspicious and protective.

Legolas continued to address himself to Elrohir.  “Well ... I told you we went swimming.  We didn’t.  I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair to make you think it was something you couldn’t remember.  I realised that I shouldn’t have done it.  I’m sorry.”  He looked rather shame-faced.

Elrohir grinned.  “That’s all right.  It doesn’t matter.  But yes, we’re going home soon.”

“But don’t worry, you can come to see us at Imladris.”

“Yes, I want to see Glorfindel, and your mother, and Arwen!”

“And we’re going to come back here, one day.”

“Maybe we can go and look for some spiders!”

“So you won’t miss us too much.” 

Now all three were talking simultaneously.  It was clearly infectious.  Taniquel sighed.  Lasgalen would definitely be far quieter when the twins had departed.

To be continued .... in Imladris

Chapter 15 - Journey to Imladris

Legolas missed Elladan and Elrohir intensely at first, and moped visibly for at least two days.  While it was true that he still had Brethil and Tirnan, the twins had had so many ideas - and because they were unfamiliar with the forest, it had been easy to play tricks on them; to tease them about creatures like the spiders.

A few weeks after their departure, a messenger arrived bearing a letter of thanks from Elrond.  There was also a note from Elrohir, which Thranduil handed to Legolas.  He read it quickly.  Elrohir wrote that on the journey home, he had made a spider for Arwen, to replace the squirrel he had given to Taniquel.  Arwen was delighted with it.  Legolas read a little further, then laughed.

“Elrohir says that she keeps putting the spider in their parents’ bed!  He says his mother has to scream when she sees it.”

Amongst the other letters and messages, there was a package for Taniquel.  Thranduil called her into his study to collect it - he wanted to see what it contained. 

She opened it curiously.  There was a small, engraved wooden box, filigreed and inlaid with gold leaf.  Inside, she found a cloak clasp of mithril, shaped like a beech leaf and enamelled in green.  There was also a matching buckle for her belt, and a very simple note:  ‘Thank you’, signed by the whole family, even Arwen.

She stared at it for a long time, open mouthed.  “They should not give me this - they cannot! This is far too valuable.  What did I do to deserve it?” she said at last, bewildered.

“Do you plan to return the gift, then?” Thranduil asked dryly.

“No!  Of course not!  Oh, what am I going to do?”  she asked in despair.

“Accept it graciously,” he advised her.  “You think it too valuable?  What price do you think Elrond and Celebrían would put on Elrohir’s life?”  Thranduil’s eyes flickered towards Legolas as he spoke.

Taniquel looked at the clasp and buckle again.  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“Then wear it, and remember.”  Thranduil took the clasp from the box and carefully pinned it to the collar of Taniquel’s tunic.  “Remember that you showed the courage and presence of mind I expect from one of my best warriors.”

Such high praise from the King was rare indeed, and Taniquel felt herself redden.  The words meant even more to her than Elrond’s gift.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” she managed.  She glanced down at the brooch again.  “Thank you,” she murmured.

“I just wish I knew why the rope broke like that,” Thranduil continued.  “It should be checked to prevent this sort of thing happening!”

There had been an unspoken agreement among those present not to mention the precise cause of Elrohir’s accident to Thranduil, Orionë or Elrond – the novice responsible, Hirilornë, was feeling guilty enough as it was.  Alfiel had sentenced him to retake the most basic archery course - but as tutor, not pupil.  Hirilornë would be far more likely to remember the basic principles of safety in the future if he taught them to others - and humiliating him would be in no one’s interests. Orionë and the elf lords had been left with the impression that the rope had simply snapped through wear.

“I - ah -  believe Alfiel is dealing with the problem,”  Taniquel explained carefully.

“Good,”  Thranduil nodded in satisfaction, then added:   “Tell, me how is Hirilornë enjoying his role as tutor?”

Legolas’s head snapped up, and he stared at his father in horror.  Taniquel looked equally aghast.

“I believe he is doing very well,” she said weakly.

“Excellent!  I am sure he will learn from this.  In fact, I am sure you will all learn a lesson from this - is that not right?  Would you please tell Alfiel I enquired after Hirilornë’s progress?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”  It never paid, Taniquel realised ruefully, to underestimate the King.

~~**~~

It was in fact not until some two years later that Thranduil and Legolas were able to make their visit to Imladris.  It was Elrond’s turn to host the Ten Year Council of the elf lords, and Legolas was naturally included in the invitation.

There was much to do before Thranduil could leave his realm, although he had full confidence in Tionel’s capabilities as steward.  Thranduil had finally had enough of Lanatus’s dour attitude and pedantic manner, and replaced him.  Lanatus in fact seemed far happier with his new role in charge of maintaining the archives, where his insistence on accuracy could be of use.

Tionel relished his new responsibility, and looked forward to Thranduil’s imminent departure with thinly-veiled enthusiasm.  “My lord, Lasgalen will be quite safe.  I will send a messenger every week, to keep you informed of matters.  Go, and enjoy Elrond’s hospitality!”

Thranduil viewed his friend’s impatience with amusement.  “Perhaps I should ask Lanatus to help you.  Or perhaps he should oversee things during my absence?” he mused.

“No!  Thranduil, you cannot do that to me!  If you knew how difficult it was to work with him ...”  he stopped as he saw Thranduil’s broad smile.

“Peace, my friend.  I would not do that to either of you!  Now, if all is ready, we will depart in the morning.  We leave at dawn.” 

The party travelling to the Council assembled on the green in front of the main doors in the grey dawn light.  As well as Thranduil and  Legolas, a few advisors and a detachment of warriors, a small group of apprentice healers were to journey to Imladris.  They would study with Elrond, and stay on there for at least a year, in an exchange programme set up by Calmacil and Elrond over the last two years.  During Elrond’s last visit the healers had discovered that each had developed new techniques and medicines that were  unknown to the other, and they had decided that such valuable knowledge should be shared.  A group of apprentices from Imladris would make the return journey with Thranduil after the Council.

The proud families of those chosen to attend had gathered to watch the departure.  They spoke in low voices, bidding fond farewells to their sons or daughters.  The harness straps on the laden pack horses jingled loudly in the pre-dawn quiet.  The warriors, well used to being away from Lasgalen on patrol, travelled light, carrying everything they needed themselves.

Tirnan and Brethil were also there, yawning, bleary eyed, having got up early to say goodbye to Legolas.

“Don’t forget to say hello to Elladan and Elrohir from both of us,” Tirnan reminded Legolas.

Brethil chipped in too. “I thought last night that it might be nice if we sent them a present, but it’s a bit late now.”

“That would have been a wonderful idea!”  Legolas was enthusiastic.  “What sort of present did you have in mind?”

“A spider!” exclaimed Brethil promptly.  “Just a baby one.  I thought you could make a cage for it for the journey, and feed it with flies and things, or whatever it is spiders eat.  Then you could give it to them when you get to Imladris!”

“Brethil!”  said Legolas, aghast.  “Are you seriously suggesting that I find and catch a spider, a baby one,  and take it all the way to Imladris with me, and give it to them as a pet?”

“Yes,”  he said simply.  “I think they’d like it.”

Legolas sighed.  “Oh, I wish I could!  I wish there was time.  Brethil, that must be the most brilliant idea you’ve ever had!  You don’t suppose ...”  He stopped and turned round, gazing up at the trees surrounding the area speculatively.

“No,” declared Tirnan firmly.  “Legolas, you can’t!  Can you imagine what Elrond would say?”

“Oh, yes,” Legolas sighed happily.  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”

“All right then, can you imagine what your father would say?”

Legolas’ face fell.  He could imagine it only too well. “Oh.  Perhaps it’s not such a good idea after all,” he admitted.  “But maybe next time!”

Thranduil approached them then, his gaze fixed on Tirnan and Brethil.  “I hope you two will manage to behave yourselves while we are away,” he told them sternly.  They both nodded, rather wide-eyed.

“Good.  Because I would hate Legolas to return home to find that he has missed any excitement!”  He turned to his son.  “Are you ready?”

Legolas nodded.  “Yes, Father.”  The pack containing his personal belongings lay on the ground near his feet.  He picked it up, slipping the straps over his shoulders, and turned to mount Dorlath, his horse.  They were ready to go.

As the party moved slowly off, Tirnan and Brethil walked alongside for a short distance, calling reminders to Legolas.

“Ask Elrohir if he remembers anything else about the day he fell in the Morn Nen!”

“Tell Elladan not to fall out of any more trees!”

“And don’t forget to remind them about the Spider Path!”

“Look out for those trolls Elladan told us about!”

Legolas turned with a laugh.  “All right!  I will.  Have fun!”  With a final wave, he moved Dorlath up to the front of the procession, and rode into the forest.  It felt rather childish to admit it, but he was quite ridiculously excited about the trip.  The furthest afield he had ever been before was on several two-day excursions through Greenwood, and he had made a handful of visits to Esgaroth.

On this journey he would leave the Greenwood completely, cross the River Anduin, and the Misty Mountains, and travel to a totally new land.  He wondered what adventures would befall them, both on the journey, and when they finally got to Imladris.

~~*~~

Meanwhile, in Imladris, Elladan and Elrohir were telling Arwen again about their visit to Lasgalen two years before, the many adventures they had had, and the people they had met.   With the exception of Thranduil and Legolas, they did not know who else would arrive, although Elrohir rather hoped that Taniquel would be there. 

The three were laying on one of the many lawns surrounding Imladris, basking in the early summer sun.  Arwen was picking daisies, and weaving them into a long chain to wear in her hair, while Elladan was giving his sister some instructions on how to behave when she met their guests.

“Now Arwen, you must remember that King Thranduil is - well - a king,” he explained.  Arwen did not bother to answer such an obvious statement.  “And that makes Legolas a prince.”

She gave him a look full of exasperation and rolled her eyes.  “I know that, Elladan!  Does it mean he’s more important than you two?” she added slyly.

“Well, no, not exactly,”  Elladan said hurriedly.  “But Ar, the thing is, Thranduil - King Thranduil, I mean,” he amended “he’s - not as easy going as Ada.  So there are some things you have to remember.  I wouldn’t want him to shout at you if you say the wrong thing,” he warned her.

Arwen looked rather worried.  “Why would he shout at me?” she asked in alarm.

“He won’t,” Elrohir reassured her.  “Not if you remember what we tell you.”  He sat up, and patted the grass next to him.  “Now come here, and listen carefully.”

To be continued

Author’s Notes:  Brethil, of course, is Treehugger’s, and so is his idea of sending a spider as a present to Imladris.  Fortunately Tirnan has the sense to talk them out of it!

 And before anyone tells me that the twins were adult by the time Arwen was born:  I know they were; but for the sake of this story I’ve moved her date of birth forward by 100 years.  She is 11 years younger than her brothers, rather than 111.  In this and subsequent chapters Arwen is 8, Legolas 14, and the Els are 19.  So yes, it’s AU, or non-canon, in that respect. 

Chapter Sixteen - Many Meetings

Because of the meandering route of the river, and the path they followed, it was not until the end of the first day that the delegation crossed the Enchanted River,  a long way upstream from the ill-fated rope swing.   As this was a main path between Lasgalen and the Anduin, a bridge had been built across the river, and they crossed easily.  Legolas glanced down into the dark waters as Dorlath’s hooves thudded over the bridge.  He had never felt quite the same about the river since Elrohir’s accident, and had rarely been near it since then.

They camped that first night on the path.  Legolas took the opportunity to search for strong, straight branches – as he had every time they had halted that day.   He had been gazing hopefully at the trees as they rode, but realized that if he did manage to catch a spider - or maybe a squirrel? -  he would need a cage for it.   If necessary, he could make one from the branches he had collected, and in the meantime, everyone thought he was being helpful by gathering wood for their campfires.  So far, he had been unsuccessful with either spider or squirrel; but there was always tomorrow.

Fires had been lit on the perimeter of their camp, and most of the party settled in the central area.  Guards were posted, although the only dangers likely in the forest were spiders or wolves, and neither were likely to attack such a large group.  However Aderthad, the warrior commander, was taking no chances, not when both the King and Prince were among their company.  The night passed uneventfully, and Legolas, surprisingly tired after the early start and the dullness of the journey so far, slept deeply and dreamlessly.

The second day of the journey was equally uneventful and, if Legolas was honest, equally dull - and just as lacking in interesting wildlife.  His excitement and anticipation had faded in the reality of a long, arduous trip.  On the third day they reached the edges of the forest and began to strike southwest across the plains and water meadows towards the Anduin.  This was new territory, unseen, exciting – but unsettling too.  As they drew away from the Greenwood, Legolas turned for one last look.  It was a strange feeling, to be leaving his home for the first time like this.  While he had been to Esgaroth on occasion, that was very nearly on the eaves of the forest, and the trees were never truly out of sight.  This would be very different.  His father, he noticed, seemed equally melancholy.

“Father?  Don’t be sad, it won’t be long before we come back,”  Legolas  reassured him.

Thranduil’s reflective mood was in fact for a very different reason.  He was sharply reminded of the last time he had taken this journey, on the way to Lothlorien for the last Ten Year Council.  Telparian had been at his side then, while Legolas, a very lively four-year-old, but far too young for the arduous travelling, had been left safely at home under the watchful eye of Mireth.  The memory was bittersweet.  It was painful to recall – it had been his last journey with his wife – but there had been such laughter and happiness on that journey, it brought a smile to his face.

“And don’t worry about things at home,”  Legolas was saying.  “Tionel is looking forward to being in charge at last, I heard him say so.  And Mireth will help him.”

“Mireth?”  Thranduil wondered what Mireth had to do with this.  With Legolas away, she would probably have a little time to herself for once.

“They love each other.”  Legolas sounded faintly disgusted.  “I’ve seen the way they look at one another!  I’m glad you made Tionel your steward, though, he’s much better than Lanatus was.  He was always so miserable!”

“I think there is something I should tell you about Lanatus.”  Thranduil said slowly.  “Something to help you understand.”

“Understand?  Understand what?”

“What rules have I made about the Enchanted River?”  asked Thranduil inconsequentially. 

“Rules?”  Legolas sounded faintly puzzled.  “None really.  Just that we can never go there alone.”

“Why do you think that might be?”

Legolas thought for a moment, then shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It’s just a rule.”  Another incomprehensible rule, he thought.  Like ‘remember to say please and thank you’,  like ‘don’t speak with your mouth full’, and ‘wash your hands when you come in from the stables!’

Thranduil expanded on his thoughts.  “Well, what do you think would have happened to Elrohir if he had been on his own?”

Legolas considered the idea.  “He might have drowned!”  He looked up at his father.  “I never thought about that,” he added solemnly.

Thranduil shook his head.  “Not ‘might’.  He would have drowned.  It happened once before.”

“Somebody drowned in the river?  Who?  When?”

“It was a long time ago, before you were born, just after I came back from the war.  There was an elfling, he was not allowed to go to the river at all, his father thought it was too dangerous.  But being an elfling,  he went anyway, of course.  But he could not go with his friends, or in the day, because people would know.  So he went at night, on his own.  One night, something happened, and he fell in.  And he drowned.”

Legolas stared at his father wordlessly.  “Ada, that’s awful,” he whispered at last, unconsciously slipping back into the childish expression.  “But why ... oh.  His father was Lanatus, wasn’t he?”

Thranduil nodded sadly.  “Yes.  Do you understand now, why Lanatus is like he is?”

“Yes.  Oh, how terrible for him!”  Legolas was silent for a long time, thinking.  “What was he like?  His son?”

“He was called Lebethron.  He was ten.  He was a happy child, but very disobedient.  He had promised not to go to the river, but he did.”

Legolas looked stricken.  “Ada, I know I don’t always do what you tell me, but if I promise something, I do it!  Or I don’t do it.  Oh, you know what I mean!”

“Yes, I know.  You would never break a promise, or tell lies.  I know that.  I trust you, little one.  But Lebethron broke his promise.  Apart from that, he was very like you.  He looked a little like you, too.”

Legolas considered this information.  “Is that why Lanatus doesn’t like me?  Because I remind him?”  He could be very perceptive at times.

Thranduil sighed.  “Legolas, I sometimes think Lanatus does not like anyone anymore.  But yes, you do remind him of Lebethron.  Do you understand now, why he is like that?”

“Yes,”  Legolas nodded.  “No wonder he’s so sad.  Oh, poor Lanatus!”

“So no more complaints about Lanatus.  You know why, now.”

“No more complaints.”  Legolas gave a slight smile.  “But Father, I’m still glad Tionel is your steward!”

~~*~~

Desperate to escape the frantic, last minute preparations before the first of the guests arrived, Elrohir agreed to his mother’s suggestion that he keep an eye on Arwen.  “And remember, she has her best dress on!  Do stop her playing by the river, or visiting the stables!”

“Yes, Mother.  I know!”  *Or at least, I’ll try*  he thought.  Looking after Arwen was never an easy option.  He managed to persuade his sister that picking flowers for the displays in the library, or the feast hall would be helpful to their mother, and followed her down to the gardens.  Before long he had an armful of tall flowers in  a rainbow of colours; brilliant scarlet, deep blue, vivid purple, or glowing orange.

Exhausted, he collapsed onto the grass with a groan.  “Arwen, isn’t this enough?  I can’t carry any more!”

“Oh, El!  Don’t be so silly!  Why don’t you take those back to the house, and then come back here?  I can pick some more!”

“Oh, no!”  Elrohir protested vehemently.  “I promised Mother that I’d look after you.  I’m not leaving you here on your own!  Do you remember what happened last time?”

Arwen scowled at him.  “It was only a little mud!  Why did everybody make such a fuss?”

“Come and sit down, Ar, please!  We can take these back in a minute.”

Even seated, she was not still.  The grass of Elrond’s private lawns was studded with daisies, and before long she had picked enough to make a long chain that trailed across both her lap and Elrohir’s.   Carefully, she plaited it together, making a thick coronet with two long tassels.

“El, come here,” she commanded.  Arwen had long ago adopted her brothers’ habit, and referred to them both as ‘El’.  She, and they, always knew instantly which twin she meant. They in turn tended to call their sister ‘Ar’, much to Celebrían’s disappointment.

(“Listen to them!” she had cried in despair once to Elrond, when it had become clear that the habit was far too deeply entrenched to break.  “We chose such beautiful names for our children.  Now they sound like an alphabet!”)

“Ar, no!  Not another daisy chain, please!”

“Sit still,” she instructed, not listening to Elrohir’s protests.  Carefully she arranged the flowers on the top of his head, leaving the tassels hanging down at the back.  Satisfied, she sat back, looking at him critically.  The bright white and yellow of the daisies showed up vividly against his dark hair.

“There!”  she declared, pleased with her handiwork.  “You look like a prince!”

“Can we go back, now, Ar?  I think we should put these in water.”  Elrohir indicated the bouquet he carried.  They made their way back to the house.  Nearly halfway there, Elrohir could hear Elladan calling.  “El!  Ar!  Come on, they’ll be here in a minute!”

They arrived back in the courtyard just as the sentries signalled that Thranduil and his escort were ten minutes away.  Hastily thrusting the flowers into the arms of  a servant, Elrohir brushed himself down, grabbed his cloak from Elladan and draped it across his shoulders, then turned to Arwen.  He studied her carefully.  No mudstains this time, and against the green of her gown, the grass marks hardly showed at all.  He picked a leaf out of her hair, and dusted some moss off the seat of her dress.  “You’ll do.  For an orc, you look almost presentable!”

“For a pair of trolls, you two don’t look that bad either!”  Arwen had always been quick to respond to her brothers’ jibes.

“Children, stop it!” murmured Celebrían automatically.

By the time Thranduil’s party arrived Elrond and his family all stood decorously on the steps of Imladris to greet them.  Elrond was flanked by the twins, while Arwen stood next to Elrohir.  He was giving his sister a whispered commentary on the identity of their guests as they rode through the archway.

Arwen glanced up at her tall brother, pleased to see that he still wore the crown of daisies she had made  for him.  Usually the twins ‘lost’ such adornments very quickly.  How nice of Elrohir to wear it to greet their visitors!

On Elrond’s far side, between his parents, Elladan had also noticed the daisies.  They were a little lop-sided now, and a long, loose strand trailed fetchingly just behind Elrohir’s left ear.  He saw no reason to remind his twin about them though; no doubt Elrohir would realise soon enough.  From the look of it, Legolas, who had just dismounted, had seen the daisy crown too, as he was trying very hard not to laugh.

As all the guests dismounted, Elrohir’s soft comments continued, some making Arwen giggle.  “That’s Thranduil and Legolas, of course.  Do you remember what we told you to say?  And  - oh no, I hoped Aderthad wouldn’t come, he’s really miserable.  Do you see, the one with a face like a dead fish?  I hope Lanatus isn’t here as well, now he’s really boring!  That’s Alfiel over there, on the black horse, and I can see Tirana at the back, in green, do you see?  She’s a healer, so I suppose she’s going to stay here.  And  - Arwen, look!  At the back!  That’s Taniquel!”

Arwen looked with interest.  “Is she the lady who saved you?”

“Yes.”  Elrohir sighed in delight.  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Elrond had been ignoring the whispered conversation beside him, but now the formalities were about to begin.  “Elrohir!  Arwen!  Be quiet!” he whispered.

“Sorry, Father.”

“Sorry, Ada!”

As Thranduil himself approached, Arwen curtsied nervously, a little wary of the fierce-sounding King.  Her brothers had warned her of his short temper and insistence on protocol at all times, but she watched his son approach with interest.  She had heard a great deal about the adventures he and her brothers had had in Lasgalen.  Her parents exchanged formal greetings with Thranduil; and then his son, obviously drilled in exquisite manners, executed a perfect bow.  “Lord Elrond, Lady Celebrian, I am honoured to meet you,” he said formally.

At last it was Arwen’s turn, and she also had  been taught how to behave.  She curtsied again, welcoming first the King, then his son.  However as she straightened, Legolas caught her eye and winked.  Startled, she stumbled over her words of greeting.

“Your majesty, you are most welcome to our house.  Prince Leg’as - Legolas - I bid you welcome, your highness.”

She was furious at herself, and him, for the slip, but thankfully no-one seemed to notice.

When the formal greeting had been exchanged, Elrond’s family moved down off the steps to mingle with the new arrivals, and to welcome old friends.

Elrohir wandered, very casually, straight to where Taniquel stood.  She was gazing in wonder at the valley and its buildings.

“Taniquel, it’s good to see you again.  Elladan and I wondered if you would be here.  Did you have a good journey?”

She nodded, smiling.  “It was a long way, but we had no problems.”  Her smile deepened.  “I see you have a lady admirer.  I like the flowers.”

Puzzled, Elrohir looked at her questioningly, then raised his hand as she indicated.  *Oh no!  Arwen’s daisy chain!*  Caught up in the flurry of last-minute panic, it had completely slipped his mind.

Flushing a little, he explained with a weak grin: “My sister.  I - I humour her sometimes.”  He caught sight of Elladan, watching the exchange with a broad grin.  “El, you could have warned me!” he hissed.

“Warned you, little brother?  What about?”  asked Elladan innocently.  “Oh, you mean the flowers?”  His gleeful expression changed to one of great concern as he turned so that Taniquel could see him.  “What’s the matter, El?  Are you forgetting things again?”  he asked solicitously. To Taniquel, he added:  “His memory’s never been the same since he fell in that stream, you know.”

“Shut up, Elladan!”  whispered Elrohir furiously.  “You know that’s not true!”  He was scarlet with embarrassment now, and wondered desperately how he could redeem himself.

Taniquel could be very tactful.  She glanced at Alfiel, nodded, then said:  “If you will excuse me, please, I have to go.  We have to get the horses settled.  Perhaps I will see you later?”

Elrohir nodded, beyond speech for the moment.  It was left to Elladan to say graciously, “Of course, Lady Taniquel.  At the evening meal, tonight.  We will look forward to your company.”

Elrohir controlled himself until Taniquel had moved out of sight, then glared at his brother.  “Elladan, I’m going to kill you.  And Arwen!”

Would he ever be able to face Taniquel again?

To be continued

Chapter 17  - A Warm Welcome

Now that the formalities were safely over, Legolas took the opportunity to look properly at his surroundings.  The valley of Imladris - or Rivendell, as he had also heard it called - was breathtakingly beautiful, but totally different to his beloved Greenwood.

He was overawed at the splendour of the place; the river foaming over moss covered rocks as it tumbled through the ravine, the trees clinging to the steep sides of the misty valley and Imladris itself; the walls, arches and walkways a seamless merging of living stone, wood and nature.

He glanced around to see where Elladan and Elrohir had gone, but they had disappeared somewhere in the crowd thronging the courtyard and his father was deep in conversation with Elrond.  Celebrían however gave him a friendly smile, and came down the steps to join him.  “Well, Legolas, welcome to Imladris.  I am pleased to meet you at last!   I heard a great deal about you from my sons when they returned from their visit to Lasgalen.”

Legolas stared at her.  He had never seen anyone like Celebrían before.  She was very beautiful, with hair of pale silver, unlike anything he had seen before in an elf.  But it was not grey with age, like some of the people he had seen on the few times he had been to Esgaroth.  It was the colour of moonlight, or starlight, the colour of the purest mithril.  He realised that he was staring, and shook himself, managing a smile in return.   This was not how he had been taught to greet the rulers of other realms. “Thank you, Lady Celebrían.  They got back in one piece?  There were no more - accidents?”

Celebrían  shook her head. “No, no more accidents, but I believe there was something about someone falling in the Anduin.  I decided I did  not want to know the details.”   She paused, and then added,  “But that reminds me, there is one member of your party I would very much like to meet.  Can you take me to the lady Taniquel, please?”

Legolas walked up two steps so that he could look out over the courtyard, scanning the crowd.  He saw the Lasgalen warriors near the back, under the archway, but there was no sign of Taniquel.  Then he spotted her with Alfiel, leading the horses off to one side, presumably towards the stables.  He nodded.

“This way!”  He led her through the elves still crowding the courtyard, angling so that they intercepted the path Taniquel and Alfiel took.  “Lady Celebrían, may I introduce Alfiel and Taniquel, warriors in Lasgalen’s army.  Taniquel, this is Lady Celebrían. She asked if she could meet you.”

Taniquel looked at Legolas in surprise.  She was no fool, and could easily guess why Celebrían wanted to meet her.  But how had the lady of Imladris known she was here?  However that question was soon answered.

Celebrían greeted her warmly. “Taniquel?  I am so pleased to meet you at last, my dear.  I asked Thranduil to ensure that you were included in his party, so that I could thank you personally.  You know why.”

Taniquel was amazed.  She had had no idea that the King had been involved in selecting her to join his company.  She made a curtsey.

“Thank you, my lady.  I feel greatly honoured to be here.  This is a lovely place.”

Celebrían smiled at her.  “Thank you.  Now, as you can imagine, we are holding a feast tonight to welcome you all.  Elrond and I would be greatly honoured if you would join us this evening on our table.”

Taniquel opened her mouth to reply, but found that she had no idea what to say.  The lord and lady of Imladris wanted her, a novice warrior,  to join them and the King, on the high table?  Surely not?  She began to protest, but Celebrían stopped her.

“My dear, I will not take no for an answer.  Will you join us?”  She smiled again.  “I see you still wear the brooch we sent you.”

Taniquel touched the cloak clasp she wore.  “Yes.  I always wear it, it’s so beautiful.  Thank you.”

“Then I shall see you tonight?  Goodbye.”  Celebrían turned to Legolas.  “Thank you, Prince Legolas.  I see my sons over there, perhaps you would like to join them?  Elrohir can show you where you will be staying.”  She pointed back across the courtyard, then she was gone, off to greet her other guests.

Taniquel hurriedly followed Alfiel towards the stables, before she could have any more surprises.  The invitation was undoubtedly a great honour, but the prospect terrified her.

Back by a corner of the steps, Legolas could see Elrohir speaking heatedly to Elladan and Arwen about something, although his brother and sister were both laughing at him.  Elrohir’s daisy crown was missing, and Legolas could make a shrewd guess what the argument was about.  He crossed the courtyard to join them.

Arwen saw him first, and hurriedly made a curtsey.  “Prince Legolas, your Highness,” she murmured.  Legolas was a little surprised at her use of the honorific.  His title was very rarely used normally, except on the most formal occasions.  It had been expected during the ceremonies as they arrived, but now?  But perhaps things were done differently in Imladris.  In any case, Arwen seemed to be a little nervous around him, so he did not think it would be fair  to correct her - especially not in front of her brothers, who would no doubt tease her about it.

Mimicking the earlier formalities, Elladan bowed to him.  “Hello, Leg’as, welcome to Imladris.”

“Yes, we are pleased to meet you again, Leg’as,”  Elrohir joined in.

Arwen was furious with her brothers for teasing Legolas with her inadvertent nickname, and for risking his father’s wrath.  Legolas, however, did not seem to notice anything amiss.

Instead, he gave the twins a bright smile.  “Ellahir, it’s wonderful to see you both again.  Thank you for the welcome to your city.”

Arwen blinked in surprise, and stifled a giggle at the expressions on her brothers’ faces.  Ellahir.  She must remember that name.  It was rare that the twins’ sharp humour was matched.  They exchanged a look - twins’ glances, her father called it - and suddenly all four were laughing.

“Legolas, I wish we could show you around the valley.  We will later, but first we have to do escort duty.  All of us!  Showing people where their rooms are, and where the hall and library are, things like that.”  Elladan sounded resigned.  “I have to take the healer apprentices to the infirmary, to meet Raffael.  I’ll see you later.”  He departed to meet Tirana, and round up the rest of the apprentices.

“Come on, Legolas, I’ll take you to your room, and show you where things are,”  offered Elrohir.  “Have you got everything?”

“Yes, for now.”  He slung his pack across his shoulder and followed Elrohir, up the steps, through a great doorway, and along a wide, airy passageway.  They went up another flight of steps, then Elrohir opened a door.

“This is your room.”

Legolas stepped inside, then stopped in wonderment.  The room was not particularly big, about half the size of his quarters in Lasgalen.  But there seemed to be no end wall.  Instead there was a vast open space, the carved frame arching delicately, framing the trees outside.  Light, filmy curtains drifted in the slight breeze.  Wooden shutters, which could be closed if necessary, were folded against the wall.

He dropped the pack onto the bed, and crossed to the window space.  The valley dropped away below, and he was looking down onto the tree tops, and could glimpse the trace of pathways weaving through the wood.  Even further below he could hear the Bruinen flowing swiftly, and could see the river in places through gaps in the trees.

Still slightly stunned, Legolas turned to his guide.  “This is - amazing,” he said at last.

Pleased with the effect, Elrohir resumed his duties.  “The bathing room is in there, and your father is next door.  Do you like it?” 

Legolas merely nodded.

Having shown Legolas where everything was, Elrohir left him to unpack.  Legolas waited until he had got to the door, then commented, “Elrohir, I meant to say how much I liked the daisy chain.  It suited you.”  He wore an expression of pure innocence.

Elrohir spun around.  “I shall never live that down, shall I?  It’s all Arwen’s fault, she made me wear it!”  He was laughing now, though, so seemed to have got over the embarrassment.

“I doubt if any of us even noticed it,” Legolas explained tactfully.  “Most of our people are Silvan elves, and often wear flowers.  And don’t forget, my father sometimes wears a crown of flowers at our feasts.”

Elrohir flushed a little with remembered embarrassment. “I doubt he wears a daisy chain, though!”

Legolas smiled. “Well, no.  Not normally, anyway.  But I remember making him one when I was little, I think he wore it at the Mid Summer feast one year.  So don’t worry!”

It was true, Elrohir realised.  The Silvan elves of Lasgalen did indeed wear flowers in their hair.  So perhaps Taniquel would not think there was anything too strange about it.  He would have to try to find out at the meal that evening.  A mental image of Thranduil wearing a daisy chain crown crossed his mind, and he grinned.

Legolas spoke again, this time seeming more hesitant.  He chose his words carefully.  “Elrohir, Arwen seemed very - nervous.  Is she usually like that?”

“Arwen?  Nervous?  No, never!”  In truth, he felt rather guilty.  The tales he and Elladan  had told her about Thranduil’s formidable temper seemed to have backfired, for she seemed terrified of the King.  Legolas had already noticed something was wrong.

“Well, could you tell her that she does not need to call me ‘prince’ or ‘highness’?  There’s really no need.  I don’t get called that at home, you know I don’t!”

Elrohir nodded.  “Yes, I’ll tell her.  I’ll go and find her now.”  He hoped he could find Arwen before Elladan scared her even more, and especially before she said anything to anyone else.  If Thranduil or their father found out what they had been telling her, there was sure to be trouble.

~~*~~

Arwen’s gaze was fixed on Legolas as he followed Elrohir indoors.  The prince seemed more friendly and approachable than she had expected, so perhaps this visit would not be too difficult after all.  If only his father could be equally pleasant!  She looked up as she heard her father calling her.

“Arwen?  Arwen!”

“Yes, Ada?”

Elrond looked around, frowning, but then smiled at her.  “I cannot see your brothers anywhere.  Could you please take King Thranduil to his room?  You know where he will be, do you?”

Knowing she could not refuse, Arwen nodded silently, feeling very apprehensive.  Why did this task have to be hers?  Why had Elladan and Elrohir managed to disappear at just the right time?  It was typical of them.

Arwen, however,  could be very charming when she wished.  Perhaps if she turned on that charm now, the King would not shout at her?  She turned to him, gave him her most winsome smile, and said politely, “Will you come this way, please, your Majesty?”

Thranduil looked down at the little girl in amusement.  She seemed to be a most charming and courteous child.  “Of course, Lady Arwen.”

Arwen smiled with relief.  So far, so good.  But she knew he could change mood in an instant.  Her brothers had warned her about him.  She would have to be careful not to put a foot wrong.

~~*~~

Elrohir found his brother just returning from the infirmary, where he had delivered the apprentices to Raffael.  “El, we need to find Ar, and tell her the truth.  This is all going wrong.  She seems terrified of Thranduil, and Legolas!”

Elladan swore.  “Valar, I never thought of that!  Yes, you’re right.  And if she says anything to father, or mother ...  Where is she?”

They hurried back down to the courtyard where they had left Arwen, but there was no sign of her.  Erestor was assigning escorts to the last few visitors, but apart from that, the courtyard was nearly deserted.  Elrohir hailed him.  “Erestor, we need to find Arwen.  Have you seen her?”

“Yes, indeed.  She went to take King Thranduil to his room a while ago.”

The twins exchanged horrified glances.  “Oh, no!”  they mouthed.

They went back inside, wondering if Arwen would have finished her escort duty.  But as they passed the hallway that lead to Elrond’s study, all their worst fears were realised.  The sound of a raised voice was clearly audible, even at the end of the corridor, and through the closed door.  It was Thranduil.  His fury was unmistakable.  “I simply cannot fathom, Lord Elrond, why you sent this foolish child to help me!” he bellowed.

There was a pause, and the low murmur of Elrond’s soothing voice.  The twins strained their ears in an attempt to hear, but he must be further away from the door, and they could hear nothing of their father’s reply.

Whatever he had said, it had done nothing to placate the irate King. “Sorry?  Sorry is not good enough!  She was so nervous she knocked a pitcher of water all over my best robes!  Look!  Ruined!”

Outside the door by now, Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, and winced.

“Oh no -”

“- we’re too late -”

“- Arwen’s in trouble -”

“- and it’s all our fault!”

The exchange was so rapid, they did not even notice they were using twinspeak.

“We have to go in -”

“- and stop this!”

Then came the worst moment of all.  They could hear Arwen crying. 

To be continued

Chapter 18 - Glorfindel, of the House of the Golden Flower

It was extremely rare for Arwen to cry.  The fact that she did so at all proved how distressed she was, and Elladan and Elrohir could not bear it.  Elrohir turned to his twin, despair in his face.  “Goodbye, El.  It was nice knowing you.”  He swallowed.  “Do you think Mandos will be merciful?”

Elladan flinched at another roar from Thranduil.  “More merciful than Father will be, I expect.  Come on.”

As one, they knocked on the door of their father’s study, then opened it before he could call an acknowledgement.  They both rushed in, ready to defend their sister against Thranduil’s wrath, and the unfairness of his  accusation, speaking simultaneously as they often did in times of stress.

“Father!”

“King Thranduil!”

“Whatever happened, it wasn’t Arwen’s fault -”

“- it was ours.”

Elladan, fractionally in the lead, stopped so suddenly that Elrohir bumped into him.  Arwen was sitting safely in Elrond’s lap, and far from crying, she was laughing.  She was also gazing up at Thranduil in admiration.  The twins looked at each other, at Thranduil, then back at Arwen.

“What - what’s going on?”  asked Elladan, very puzzled.

Elrohir glanced at his sister.  “Ar, are you all right?”  he said anxiously.

She nodded cheerfully.  “I’m fine,” she added brightly.

“Ah, the miscreants appear,”  said Thranduil sternly.

The twins looked at one another again, with identical expressions of despair.  They were right, this did mean trouble.  But neither could help feeling relieved that Arwen, at least, seemed unscathed.  The relief, however, was slightly soured by her obvious enjoyment of their predicament.

Thranduil, with a final glare in their direction, turned back to Elrond.  “If you will excuse me, I still have some unpacking to do.  Lady Arwen, would you be so kind as to escort me again?  I fear I may lose my way.”

Arwen slid off her father’s lap, happy to oblige, although she was a little disappointed to miss the scolding her brothers were about to receive.  “Have you really forgotten?  I’ll show you again.  It’s this way.”  She took Thranduil’s hand, and led him from the study.

Thranduil looked down at her, feeling a familiar pang of sadness.  How he envied Elrond this pretty child.  Their friendship had been sealed as she completed her duties earlier that afternoon.  After he congratulated her on being an excellent guide, she had looked up with a shy smile.  “You’re much nicer than my brothers said you were,” she had confided.

~~*~~

As the door closed behind Thranduil and Arwen, Elrond glared at his reprobate sons.  “Well?  What do you have to say for yourselves?” he asked coldly.

Elladan attempted to explain.  “Father, I’m sorry.  We both are.  We didn’t mean for Arwen to get into trouble.  We were just teasing her, but it all seems to have gone wrong.  I didn’t really think she’d believe us, she doesn’t usually.”

“And what was it you told her?  I want to know everything.”  He sounded stern, not their father any more, but the Lord Elrond of Imladris they had glimpsed just once before, when an errant guard had been disciplined.

Now it was Elrohir’s turn.  He met his father’s eyes with an effort, and explained,  “We just said that as Thranduil was a king, he should be addressed as ‘Your Majesty’ all the time.  And that Legolas was ‘Prince Legolas’ , or ‘Your Highness’.

“I imagine Legolas was a little surprised at that.  Was that all?”

Elrohir sighed.  “We told her that Thranduil could be very bad tempered, and would shout at her if she upset him.  That was why she was so nervous.”

Elrond regarded them both expressionlessly.  “So you upset your sister, and spread untrue rumours and silly gossip about one of our guests.”  He let the idea sink in for a moment, then added:  “I feel disappointed with this sort of behaviour.”

Elrohir went white, and dropped his gaze.  “I’m sorry, Father,” he whispered.

Elladan too had gone pale.  He nodded in agreement.  “So am I, Father.”

“Remember that, before you are tempted to do anything so foolish again.  Why did you both come bursting in here so unceremoniously, anyway?”  Elrond sounded curious.

Elladan hung his head. “We could hear Thranduil.  He sounded so angry!  We thought he was shouting at Arwen -”

“- so we were going to stop him.”  Elrohir finished.

“I see.  So you stormed in, prepared to confront him, and protect your sister?”

Elrohir flushed.  Put like that, it sounded ridiculous.  But he stood his ground, and looked at his father, nodding.  “Yes.”

Elrond finally smiled.  “Well done.”

“I know, Father, and we’re sorry.  We just -”  Elladan broke off abruptly as Elrohir elbowed him.  Elrond’s words finally penetrated his despondency.  “I beg your pardon?”

“I said ‘Well done’.  I am proud of you both. That cannot have been easy.”

“No, but we thought -”  Elladan stopped, reviewing the whole bizarre scene.

“Father, what was happening?”  Elrohir queried.

The smile widened. “Arwen confided to Thranduil what you had said to her, and how worried she was.  He suggested that they join forces to get their revenge on the pair of you, and asked my advice on the best way to accomplish that.  He put on a most convincing display of anger, having reassured Arwen that none of it was directed at her.  Unfortunately she was overcome by laughter, which you mistook for her crying.”

“So Arwen was all right the whole time?”  The twins exchanged a look.  They were unsure whether they were relieved that Arwen had not been frightened out of her wits, or annoyed that she had helped to incriminate them.

Elrond sighed in exasperation. “Elladan, Elrohir, surely you realise that I would never permit anyone to treat Arwen like that - or indeed either of you two?  I know that Thranduil can have a - hasty - temper at times, but he is not unreasonable, and  would never shout at an innocent child!”

“He shouted at us once,” Elladan muttered.

“Yes, and at Legolas as well, and it was well deserved by all three of you as I recall!  You were hardly innocent!  Now go.  And I want you to apologise to Arwen, and to Thranduil as well.”

Outside Elrond’s study, Elladan and Elrohir stopped, and drew deep breaths.  “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” said  Elladan carefully.

“No,”  Elrohir agreed.  “But we still have to apologise to Arwen.  And Thranduil!”

“Come on, then.  We’d best get it over with.”  They headed first for Thranduil’s room, reasoning that that would be the worst part of the task.  To their relief, they found Arwen still there, showing Thranduil the view.  Maybe they could get this over in one go.

They knocked on the open door.  “Your Majesty -”  Elladan began.

“ - Arwen -”  Elrohir added.

“We’re very sorry we said that.  It wasn’t true.  So we’re sorry if we were rude -”

“ - and we’re sorry we scared you, Arwen.”

Thranduil and Arwen looked at one another.  “Do we accept their apology, Lady Arwen?”  Thranduil asked in a loud whisper.

“I suppose so.”  Arwen sounded reluctant.  “Do you both promise not to do it again?”  she demanded imperiously.

They looked at each other.  “Well -”  Elladan began.

“You have to promise!  Both of you!”

“But Arwen -”

Thranduil interrupted then.  “I once told Legolas, never make promises that you cannot keep.  Do you promise at least to try?”

Both Elladan and Elrohir looked relieved.  Neither were happy at the possibility of breaking a promise, even to Arwen.  “Yes, we do,” vowed Elladan.

“And we really are sorry,” Elrohir joined in.  “It was - foolish.  It was discourteous to you,” - he nodded to Thranduil -  “and it wasn’t fair on you either, was it Ar?”  He gave his sister an affectionate hug.

The three left Thranduil’s room together.  As they departed, Elladan turned to his sister. “Did you really spill water on his robes, Ar?”  

“No, silly!  We’d  made friends by then.  He’s very nice, really, you know!”

When they reached the family wing, they split up to change before supper.  Elrohir paused by his brother’s door. 

“El?  Have you decided yet what you’re going to wear tonight?”

Elladan looked vague.  “No, not yet.  I haven’t really thought about it.  Why?”

“Well, for the Valar’s sake, ask me first!  We don’t want to end up wearing the same - do you have any idea how ridiculous that looks at our age?”

Elladan did know.  It was something they no longer did deliberately, having been profoundly embarrassed on the last occasion.  However, there were still times - far too many times - when they would dress identically, purely by chance.  They tended to check with each other now before breakfast to avoid the possibility.

Elrohir bathed and changed.  He was half dressed when he remembered his words to Elladan. He had better find out what his brother was wearing before they joined their guests.  At that moment, Elladan opened the door. 

“El?  Are you ready?  -  Oh, no!”  They eyed each other in exasperation.  Yet again, they were dressed alike.

“I’ll go and change,” they both murmured.

“No!  You stay here.  I’ll change,”  Elladan ordered. He turned, and disappeared into his own room.

Although Elrohir bristled at the fact that Elladan was ordering him – again – he made no protest.  It suited his plans perfectly.  He hurried down the stairs, and into the feast hall.  All was quiet, it was the lull before the storm.  Before long, the hall would be full, with guests, servants and minstrels, with food and drink, with talk, music and song.  But for now it was peaceful.  The tables had been set, the flowers positioned, and tiny name cards set before each seat.

Elrohir wanted to know where Taniquel was to sit.  He found her name at last, between Legolas and Elladan.  He supposed it was only fair that she sat next to Legolas, so she would be near someone she knew, but there was no way he wanted  Elladan by her.  Locating his own place, he quickly changed the cards over.  Taniquel would never know, and neither would Elladan.  He wondered if even his parents would notice.  They very rarely made the mistake of confusing their sons, but would be somewhat distracted tonight.  He waited, eagerly, for the evening’s festivities to begin.

~~*~~

When he had unpacked, Legolas sat for a while on the low window sill, looking out over the valley, and down at the river far below him.  Although Imladris was very different to Lasgalen, he could sense the same aura of peace and tranquillity here as there was at home.  He wondered idly if it would feel the same in Lothlorien.   

Eventually, rather than sitting here simply looking, he decided to go out and explore.  There was still nearly an hour to go before the evening meal, so there should be plenty of time.

At the foot of the stairs he saw the tapestry he and the twins had found when they explored the storerooms at Lasgalen two years previously.  His father had had it cleaned, and had presented it to Elrond before he left to return to Imladris, and it now hung in pride of place in the hallway. 

But now ...  Legolas stopped on the bottom step and stared, wondering if he was seeing things.  The golden haired warrior depicted in the tapestry stood beneath it, talking to Erestor.  Legolas blinked.  Perhaps the atmosphere of this place was affecting him?  But no, the vision was still there.  Apart from the different clothes he wore, he looked exactly the same.  Legolas crossed to the tapestry, and stood looking, his eyes moving from the picture to the living legend who stood before him.  The warrior broke off his conversation with Erestor, and regarded Legolas with amusement.

At last Legolas spoke.  “Are you Glorfindel?” he asked.  “You must be!”

“Yes, I must be,”  Glorfindel agreed.  “And I know who you are, too.  You must be Legolas.  And I should thank you and your father for giving this tapestry to Elrond.  It was most kind of you.”

“That’s all right.  It was -”  Legolas stopped, realising it would not sound very diplomatic to say that it was lying forgotten in an old storeroom when he had found it.  Instead he went on, “- it was a pleasure.  Especially when Elladan and Elrohir said that you were their tutor sometimes.”  His gaze went over Glorfindel’s shoulder again, back to the tapestry.  “Did that really happen?”

Glorfindel turned to look as well.  “Yes, it really happened.  But it was all a very long time ago.  And I am not going to tell you the story now, elfling, you will have to wait until tonight.  There will be stories told, and songs sung, in the hall of fire, after supper.  Maybe that story will be told.”

Legolas retraced his steps, deciding to leave his exploration of the grounds until tomorrow.  He wanted to ask his father about this.  Imladris was a fascinating place, with some very interesting people.

Behind him, Erestor turned to Glorfindel.  “You really should stop lurking beneath this tapestry.  You startled the child!  I swear you do it deliberately!” 

Glorfindel merely smiled at him.

Thranduil was extremely non committal when Legolas questioned him about Glorfindel.  He seemed distracted, as if he was amused by some private joke. Legolas returned to his room in frustration to change, and eventually, ready and dressed in his best clothes, descended the stairs with his father.

When they finally entered the Great Hall, Legolas found that he had been seated next to Taniquel. That was good, as it meant that there was at least one familiar face he could talk to.  He glanced at the name card on his other side.  Glorfindel.  Well, this could be very interesting. 

After making some polite, desultory small talk, Legolas asked Glorfindel the question he had been aching to ask all evening.  “What was it like when you fought the Balrog?  How did you defeat it?”

Glorfindel smiled.  “It was a long, hard battle, but while I kept the Balrog busy, many escaped from Gondolin.  But I never did defeat the creature.”

“What do you mean?  The Balrog died, didn’t it, and everyone got away!”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.  But the Balrog and I both fell into the chasm and perished.”

Legolas stared at Glorfindel.  “What - what do you mean?  You both perished?”

“I mean exactly that.  But Mandos was merciful, and took pity, and sent me back.”

Legolas swallowed, his eyes round.  “Oh,”  was all he said.  He kept casting sidelong glances at Glorfindel, absolutely fascinated by his interesting new companion.  He had never known anyone who had been dead before.

On Legolas’ other side, Taniquel was deep in conversation with Elrohir.  “You really should not feel so self conscious,” she explained.  “Our King often wears a crown of flowers or leaves at our weekly feasts.”

“Yes, but does he have a daisy chain?”

“Well, not very often,” she admitted.  “But I know that he wore one once, several years ago, at one of the Mid Summer feasts.  I never knew why.  And on special occasions he wears a circlet of mithril and gold.  But of course most of the time he wears nothing at all.”

Elrohir raised one eyebrow.  It was a knack his father had, and he had practiced in front of a mirror for hours until he had perfected it.  To his great delight, Elladan had still not mastered the trick.  “That must be - interesting,” he commented.

Taniquel gasped, then giggled at the intriguing mental image.  “Elrohir, stop it!” she protested, her face pink.  She glanced along the table to where Thranduil sat next to Celebrían, and blushed again.  “That is a wicked thing to say.  You know what I mean!”  She kicked Elrohir under the table, aware that Celebrían seemed to be looking straight at her.

Celebrían watched with great interest the conversation between her younger son and Taniquel.  She had deliberately placed Elladan next to her, wondering what Elrohir’s reaction would be.  It came as no great surprise to see that the twins had exchanged places, although she wondered if Elladan was aware of the fact.

It was noticeable that Elladan had dressed more quickly that his brother.  He was slightly dishevelled, and the neck of his tunic was twisted.  She wondered if he had had to change quickly, after selecting a similar outfit to Elrohir.  It seemed to happen quite often.  Until their return from Lasgalen, the twins had frequently deliberately presented an identical appearance to unsuspecting guests.  A very clever friend of Celebrían's had stopped that overnight.

When she arrived for a visit, the twins had as usual appeared to greet her like mirror images.  Alliara had taken one look at them, and clasped her hands in delight.  “Twins!  How delightful!”  she cooed.  “Celebrían, they look so adorable dressed the same like that!  So sweet!”  Scarlet with humiliation, Elladan and Elrohir had made their excuses and fled to the sanctuary of their rooms.  They had never repeated the trick.

At length the feast came to an end.  Elrond and his family, and all the assembled guests, left the Great Hall and made their way across the passage to another room.  In contrast to the blazing candles in the feast hall, this was dimly lit by flickering firelight alone.  As those present settled and began to listen, a minstrel began to play softly.

As the strings of his harp faded into the expectant silence, he spoke. “My Lords and Ladies, please listen, as I sing to you the lay of Glorfindel, of the House of the Golden Flower, and his great and valiant deeds!”

To be continued

Chapter Nineteen  - A Balrog is Coming!

It was very late when Legolas finally went to bed.  A combination of the long journey, the lateness of the hour, the richness of the food, the wine he had drunk - more than he was normally permitted at home - and the soothing, soporific atmosphere in the hall of fire, sent him to sleep very quickly.  He was restless, though, his mind still full of all he had seen and heard that day, and the enchanting stories he had heard.. 

After the minstrel’s song had ended, Glorfindel had continued the story, filling in with lurid detail what had been left out, and correcting other parts.  “He was not there,”  Glorfindel explained simply, when Legolas asked why the minstrel had got it wrong.

Those thoughts slipped into his subconscious, and he began to dream.  With the usual vividness of elven dreams, it was as if he was there, watching in horror as Gondolin burned around him.  He witnessed the terrible battle between Ecthelion and the Balrog Gothmog.  He could smell the smoke and stench of burning, could feel the heat of the flames, and watched the rest of the citizens as they fled, panic-stricken, escaping the ruin of their city.

Legolas turned, restlessly, still trapped in the dream.  Around him, all was confusion as the refugees made their way, agonisingly slowly, down the secret way that led to possible freedom.  Smoke from the burning city combined with steam from the many fountains incinerated by the dragons’ fiery breath, and part of their path was obscured by thick mist and smog, which inadvertently screened them from unfriendly eyes.

He shivered through the exhaustion and bitter cold of the long trek over the mountains, and then – there came the ultimate horror.  Just as they thought that the end of their long flight was at last  in sight, the fugitives were ambushed..  A host of orcs appeared on the slopes of the mountain, and swept towards them through the narrow pass, led by a terrible creature, one they recognized all too well, winged in flame and darkness.  Legolas echoed the cries of the terrified refugees.  “Ai!  Ai!  A Balrog!  A Balrog is coming!”

Valiant  and steadfast, Glorfindel stepped forward to meet it.  He looked both beautiful and terrible, proud and resolute.  The arrows he fired at the monster kindled in the air before they ever reached it, falling uselessly to the ground, so he drew his sword, moving closer. 

“You cannot pass.”  Glorfindel’s voice rang clear and fearless. They fought long, locked in combat together. Glorfindel’s sword hacked and stabbed at the Balrog, while its blade and whip cut and burned him.  His golden hair was burned and scorched, his clothes smouldered, but still Glorfindel fought tirelessly.  He was so brave, so strong. 

Legolas felt he was trapped in a curious blend of  past and present.  In the past he watched the epic battle as if for the first time, wondering desperately what would happen, if they would ever escape, if they had any hope.  In the present he knew, hopelessly, helplessly, what the outcome would be, but found himself hoping despairingly that somehow, in some way, that this time it would be different. 

As he watched, the Balrog flicked its whip, cutting a livid red weal across Glorfindel’s face, but the warrior did not flinch, seeming oblivious to the pain.  The whip flicked again, wrapping itself around his chest.  To Legolas’s horror, Glorfindel did not struggle; did not fight,  still seeming oblivious to what was happening.  Instead, he allowed it to pull him closer, then at the last moment raised his sword, plunging it deep into the creature’s chest. Mortally wounded, the Balrog gave a roar of fury and defiance, and wrapped its fiery wings around Glorfindel, enveloping him in a deadly embrace. 

Together they plunged from the mountainside to their deaths.

Gripped by horror, Legolas screamed out Glorfindel’s name, and struggled to wake, aware that he was dreaming, but powerless to stop it.  In his dream, he peered over the precipice trying to see what had become of Glorfindel, while in the waking world he could see a flame drawing nearer and nearer.  The two images combined, and the Balrog, still consumed by fire, rose up out of the abyss and confronted him.

He drew back in terror, one arm raised to shield his eyes from the flames.  “The Balrog!”  he cried.  “Begone, you foul fiend!”

A soft voice drew him out of nightmare.  “A Balrog?  I have been called many things before, but never that!”

With a gulp, he blinked and finally returned to awareness.  Celebrían stood before him, a candle in one hand, as she stood over him in concern.

Legolas gaped at her.  His face burned with shame.  “Lady Celebrían!  I’m sorry, I thought - I thought -”

“You thought I was a Balrog.  Yes, I know.  Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.  I was passing, and you seemed - disturbed.  Glorfindel has been telling you his story, I take it?”  Her voice was gentle and soothing.

“Yes.  I had not heard it before - well, not all of it.  Not like that.”

“Legolas, I am sorry!  Please, you must forgive him.  Glorfindel has nightmares, terrible nightmares.  He finds it helps him,  that it soothes them, to talk of it.  But he forgets how terrifying the tale is to others.  I remember the time he told Elladan and Elrohir.  And last year he told Arwen one of his bedtime stories.  She woke up screaming.”

Very subtly, Celebrían had turned Legolas’ embarrassment at waking like this into concern and sympathy for another.  To relive the worst memory of one’s life – lives – like that, over and over again …  He shuddered.  “Poor Glorfindel.  I never thought of it like that.  It must have been a dreadful thing.  No wonder he has nightmares.”

“I am glad you understand.  Thank you.  But I will talk to him again in the morning – he must remember not to terrify his audience!”  With a smile, Celebrían turned to leave.  “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight, Lady Celebrían.”

When he was quite sure the door had closed behind her, Legolas leaned back against the headboard with a groan combined of despair and disbelief.  Had he really just called the lady of Imladris a Balrog?   He could not believe it.  She would never forgive him.  Elrond would never forgive him.  He just hoped fervently that Elladan and Elrohir did not find out, or they would never allow him to forget about it either.

His mind was still full of images from his dream.  Realising he would not be able to sleep for a while, Legolas crossed to the window and sat on the low sill, looking out across the valley.  As always, the murmur of the trees soothed him, and a cool night breeze carried scents from the high moor.  The air here was subtly different to Lasgalen.  It was warmer, moister, and held a faint tang of pine and resin. On the far side of the valley the land rose again, and high overhead the stars shone brightly.  The trees and the starlight calmed him, and eventually he went back to bed, and slept – dreamlessly this time – until dawn when the chatter and twittering of the birds roused him.

When he went down for breakfast Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen were all there before him.   They greeted him cheerfully, and waved him over to a seat next to Elladan. 

“Did you sleep well?”  Elrohir asked courteously.

“Yes.  Fairly well, thank you.”

The twins exchanged knowing glances.  “Only fairly well?  You were talking to Glorfindel last night, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.”  Legolas was cautious.  “Why?”

“Well, I remember when he told us about his battle with the Balrog.  It scared me to death!”  Elladan remembered. 

“I did have a bit of a bad dream.”  Legolas admitted.

“I know when he told us, we both had terrible nightmares,”  Elrohir said.  “In fact -”  he hesitated, looking at Elladan, clearly unsure whether or not to continue.

“Go on,”  Legolas prompted.

Elrohir sighed.  “I ended up sleeping in El’s bed,”  he admitted.  “Or it could have been the other way around.  I don’t quite remember.”

“And we haven’t done that since we were very little!”  Elladan added.

Legolas smiled.  He did not feel quite so bad about his own nightmare now.  “Well, now that you mention it …”

“What?”  all three chorused.

“I did have a nightmare; about Gondolin, about the battle, about the Balrog.  I must have called out.  Your mother heard me.  She came in, with a candle.”

“She always comes in at night to us.”  Arwen explained.

“Well, I was dreaming about the Balrog, when I saw her candle.  And then I …”  he stopped, still embarrassed.  “I thought she was one.”

Elrohir stared at him in disbelief.  “You thought my mother was a Balrog?”  He gave a snort of laughter.

“It was the flame!”  Legolas explained defensively.

“It was Glorfindel’s fault!”  stated Elladan authoritatively.  “He keeps telling us these stories!  He should remember that we are sensitive, impressionable elflings and take more care!”

From the way Elrohir and Arwen joined him in reciting the description, it was obviously a much-used quote.  From Legolas’ point of view, a less accurate description of the three would be hard to find.

“Who, in all of Arda, calls any of you that?”  he demanded.

“Mother, of course!  She seems to think Glorfindel is a bad influence on us,” explained Elladan.

“And is he?”

Arwen defended Glorfindel stoutly.  “He’s wonderful!  He tells me bedtime stories, takes us all hunting orcs and wolves, showed us where we can jump off the cliff into the river, and he helps me play tricks on the twins when they’re horrible to me!”

“In other words, yes, he is a bad influence,”  added Elrohir.

“You’d get on well with him,” said Elladan slyly.

Legolas tried to imagine the noble, heroic Balrog slayer behaving in such an irresponsible manner.  Then he remembered the way Glorfindel had seemed to lurk beneath the tapestry, and given him such a start.  “You could be right,” he admitted.

Elrohir decided it was time to change the subject.  “What would you like to do today, Legolas?”  he asked.  “The Council doesn’t start until tomorrow, and the Games start the day after, but for now there is nothing planned.  If you like,  we could show you the valley, or you might want to do something else, on your own?”

“I don’t have any plans.  And my father wants to see your father’s library as soon as possible.  He’ll be there all day at least.  So yes, I’d love to see your home!  When can we leave?”

“I’ll tell my parents what we’re going to do, and ask the kitchens if they can make us a picnic lunch.  In about an hour?”

Legolas agreed readily.  As he left to find Thranduil and tell him what was happening, he wondered about the ‘Games’ Elrohir had mentioned.  His father had told him about races, and archery contests, and other competitions.  He wondered if he stood any chance against the novice warriors of Imladris and Lasgalen, or the likes of Elladan and Elrohir.    But he would worry about that later.  For now, there was the prospect of a most interesting day out.

To be continued

Chapter 20 –Troll Tales and River Racing

Legolas met the twins and Arwen in the courtyard.  Both Elladan and Elrohir carried a bag slung over one shoulder, containing their lunch.  Legolas noticed that Elrohir seemed a little subdued.

“What’s the matter?”  he questioned.

Elladan grinned.  “It’s Taniquel.  He asked her if she could come today, but she said she wants to join in the guard’s training sessions instead.”

“She’s a warrior!”  Elrohir explained defensively.  “Of course she wants to see different training techniques!”

“Of course she does,”  Legolas said soothingly.  He knew perfectly well that Taniquel, while enjoying Elrohir’s flattering attention, was receiving a great deal of teasing from the other warriors, and this was one way for her to deal with it until they found something else to gossip about. 

Elladan led the way beneath the archway into the courtyard, and out onto the main path, the way Legolas had arrived the day before.  Almost immediately he veered off to one side, down a narrow track that led down to the river.

The valley of Imladris sloped steeply, and paths and terraces led up and down the sides of the vale, joining the gardens, lawns and streams.  They spent a morning exploring the area, the twins pointing out the places where the Games would be held; the races, the swimming, and the archery.  Legolas listened attentively, as the previous year he had won an archery competition held for first year warriors – and it would be some years before he began his warrior training.  He looked forward to competing in the Games, and hoped he would not disgrace Lasgalen or his father.

Eventually they reached the ford.  They could glimpse guards, concealed beneath the trees, watching the road on the far side.  “This is as far as we can go,” explained Elrohir.  “We can go anywhere on this side of the river, but Father says we cannot cross the ford.”

“Why not?”  Legolas was disappointed.  In Lasgalen, he was allowed to roam more or less anywhere he wished.  There were conditions, of course, but on the whole he had a great deal of freedom.

“A few miles that way -”  Elladan pointed to the west – “is an area of trees, and a few caves.  There are trolls there.  Father says it’s too dangerous, so we can’t cross the Ford.  And his realm is only on this side of the river, so this is the border.” 

Legolas was surprised at that.  He had not realised quite how small Imladris was, or by comparison, how vast his father’s Kingdom was.  Elrond’s realm was little more than the valley itself, and it was tiny compared with the Greenwood.  Rather than pointing this out, he focused on what else Elladan had said.

“Trolls,”  he mused.  “I’ve never seen trolls.  Are they really made of stone?”

“Yes.”  Elladan began.  “They’re huge, and can move around at night, but in the day they have to be in shelter, or they turn back to stone for good, and I think that -” 

“He’s guessing,”  Elrohir interrupted.  “He’s never seen a troll either.”

“Neither have you!”  Elladan retorted.  “But I -”

Arwen stamped her foot.  “Oh, stop it, both of you!  I’ve never seen a troll, but I asked Ada, and he showed me one of his books.  It said they’re a sili - sila – siliceous life form.”

“Siliceous? What’s that mean?” 

“I think it means that they’re made of stone,” commented Legolas, pleased to be proved right.

“ ‘Silly’ sounds right.  I never heard of a troll that was clever!” quipped Elrohir.

“Ada’s book said that they’re nocturnal, and there was a picture, and it was at least twice as tall as Ada,”  Arwen continued, ignoring him.  “And it said that trolls are f – f,” - she gave up -  “photo-something.”

“Photo-what?”  wondered Elladan.

Arwen shrugged.  “I can’t remember, but it meant that they were afraid of light.”

“That would make sense, if it turns them to stone!”

Elrohir thought for a moment. “Photophobic?”  he suggested.

“That was it!”

Elladan stared at his twin in disbelief.  “How did you know that?!” he demanded.

Elrohir gave them all a superior look.  “Because I spend more time in Father’s library than you do, brother dearest!  I remember the book Arwen’s talking about.  We’ll look at it tonight, and see what else it says about trolls.”

They had left the ford, and were walking upstream along a grassy track that led beneath overhanging willow trees.  The branches trailed lazily in the water.  

“A bit further on is a pool where we can swim.  There are lots of places where we can, but this pool is very deep, and under a high cliff, so we can jump in from the top of it.  It’s scary, the first time you do it!”  Elladan gave Legolas a challenging look.

“How high is it?”

Elladan considered.  “About fifteen feet.”

“And do you both do it?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Does Arwen?”

“She jumped in for the first time this summer!”

“Then so can I.”  Legolas said firmly.  “Is it the place Glorfindel showed you?”

Elrohir nodded.  “It can be scary, but it’s quite safe.  Mother refuses to watch us though, she says it terrifies her!”

“Mothers always say things like that,” Elladan said.  “But I know for a fact, because Grandfather said, that she used to climb one of the tallest trees beside the Nimrodel, go along the branches, and drop into the water!”

Arwen laughed, remembering the time Celeborn had told them that tale.  “And Ada and his brother used to climb up onto the roof of their house, and drop things down the chimney!”

Legolas joined in with a story of his own.  “My father told me that he wanted to have a pet wolf cub, he found it in the forest, and took it home to meet his parents!  And he told me another story, about when he went swimming once, and my mother took all his clothes and hid them!”

All three stared at him in disbelief.  “Your mother took his clothes?   Oh, I wish we could have met her!”  exclaimed Elrohir.

There was a brief pause.  “Yes.  So do I,” said Legolas in a flat voice.  Elrohir looked at him awkwardly. 

“Legolas, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to – remind you,” he said quietly.

Legolas managed to smile at him.  “It’s all right, you didn’t.  Lots of things remind me, anyway.  And I was the one talking about her in the first place!”

Ahead of them, the path began to climb steeply, veering away from the water.  The river was wide here, and deep, and consequently flowed very slowly.  From the bank Legolas could see the pool, the cliff rising sheer out of the water, the top overhanging the pool.  It looked very high, but he was not going to back down.  Besides, it did not look that much higher than the waterfall cliff over the pool at the beech valley at home.  Although he was not actually supposed to jump off it, he had done so once or twice.  If the twins could do it, and especially if Arwen could do it, then so could he.

Elladan paused by the river.  “We can either swim from here first, or climb up to the top and jump off.  Who wants to do what?”

“Swim!”  decided Arwen.

“Jump!”  Elrohir and Legolas declared together.

Elladan looked down at his sister.  “Never mind, Ar.  We’ll go off the top first, then swim for a while.”

She did not seem too concerned at the decision.  Together they scrambled up the steep path to the top of the cliff, where there was a flat grassed area, and a few bushes.  The precipice fell away sharply to the water below.  Legolas peered over the edge cautiously. 

It looked a long way down.  The surface of the water was rippled, and sunlight danced and reflected off the ripples.  Leaf shadows shone, creating a dappled effect.  The result was dazzling, but made it impossible to see beneath the surface of the water.  There were two paths that led up from the pool.  The one on the right was shorter but steeper, precipitous in places, while the path to the left of the river was a little longer, but easier to climb.

Leaving the picnic bags and clothes on the grass, they stripped off to their undergarments.  Then, with Elrohir first, and Elladan a heartbeat behind him, the twins leaped off the edge.  Legolas followed close behind them, not giving himself time to think twice about this. He felt a momentary fear as he jumped, but there was a sharp exhilaration as well.  The water felt cool against his skin as he plunged deep into the pool, and seemed to be a brown, peaty colour.  As he surfaced he heard a splash as Arwen hit the water as well.

All four exchanged grins of triumph, then swam to the bank, hauling themselves out of the water.  There was a brief scramble as they raced to be first to the top, using the steepest path, but Elladan won easily after Elrohir tripped over a rabbit hole, causing first Legolas, then Arwen to fall over him. 

They played for a while, alternating jumping or diving off the cliff with swimming in the pool below.  Soon, they began to be more competitive, seeing who could be first back to the top of the cliff if they all jumped off together.

Elladan and Elrohir frequently drew, usually only a few feet ahead of Legolas.  There was usually an argument over which of them had been first, so in the end Legolas agreed to referee the race.

He watched carefully as both the twins leaped off the cliff together.  It was impossible to tell who hit the water first, and equally difficult to see whether Elladan or Elrohir was in the lead as they swam to the bank. He waited,  counting under his breath until they appeared at the top of the steepest path, collapsing in  a heap on the grass.

“Well?  Who won?”  They demanded breathlessly.

Legolas hesitated.  He had thought he had them sorted out, but like this, wet, stripped almost naked, it was impossible to tell them apart.  “Umm – Arwen?  Do you know?”

She rolled her eyes at him.  “Legolas!  Can’t you tell the difference?  El won!”

One of the twins stood up, grinning broadly.

Legolas was still none the wiser.  “Arwen?”  he whispered.  “Which El?”

“Elladan, of course!  You’re a hopeless judge if you can’t tell them apart!  Do you want me to do it?”

He nodded.  “Yes.  That might be a good idea.”

“Well, in that case, you might as well join in the race,” she pointed out.

The three lined up at the cliff edge.  At Arwen’s signal, they jumped.  As Legolas came back up to the surface, he found a foot only inches from his face, and grabbed at it.  Elrohir spun around with a squawk.  “Legolas!  I’m sorry, did I kick you?”

“No!  But I think we’re a bit too close together. We’ll end up hitting each other! Maybe we should spread out a bit?”

“That’s a good idea!”  Elladan called.  “We’ll go back up to the top, then try again!”

Back at the cliff edge again, they lined up, then Legolas took a few steps to the right.  Elladan, on the far side, moved to the left.  Safely spread out, they jumped again on Arwen’s count.

Wanting to ensure he avoided Elrohir again, Legolas leaped well over to the right.  It would also carry him a little closer to the edge of the pool – and nearer the path.  But as he came down into the water, an agonising pain shot through his foot and leg.  Instead of kicking back up to the surface, he was held fast.  Startled, he looked down, to see that he had landed on rocks, unseen beneath the water, and that his foot was trapped between two boulders.  He tried to pull free, but could not move.  Rather worried, he pulled again, but his ankle was caught tightly. 

There was a narrow gap between the boulders, and he was wedged firmly in the tight space.  The sharp edges had already cut his ankle, and a wisp of blood tinged the clear water.  Scared now, he wriggled again, bracing his free foot against the stone, and pulled hard.  Still nothing happened.  Desperately, he tried to move his foot forward, then backward, but it would not move an inch.

He told himself firmly that panicking would not help the situation, that he needed to keep a clear head.  Looking upward through the water, he tried to see if he could spot Elladan or Elrohir, wondering if they would be able to see him, but the ripples and sun speckles made it impossible to see anything above the surface.  That probably meant that they would be unable to see him either. 

Legolas tried very hard to think about his predicament rationally.  If his foot had gone into the gap, surely it could come back out?  Feeling more and more frightened, he tugged again, wondering how long he could hold his breath.  Bracing his left foot again, he pulled as hard as he could, feeling the rough stone cutting deeply into his heel and ankle.  More blood darkened the water.  He bit his lip at the searing pain, but it was to no avail.  He was still jammed fast, and looked up desperately at the surface again.

Would they realise there was something wrong?  Would they notice that he had not surfaced?  Elladan and Elrohir could easily assume that he was in front of them, and heading for the cliff top again.

He tried again, desperately, to twist free, and tried bending down, holding his leg by the calf, and pulling that.  By now he was very frightened indeed, but his struggles were becoming weaker.  It was harder and harder to think clearly. His chest and lungs were burning with the need to breathe, and bright spots and sparkles seemed to hover in front of him.  There was a roaring, pounding sound in his head that seemed to keep time with his frantic heartbeat, deafening his panicked thoughts.  The spots and sparkles of light dimmed as the darkness surrounding him intensified.

Gradually, he stopped struggling, and slowly began to succumb to the pervasive darkness all around him.  His last coherent thought was regret at missing the Games, and that this would surely rather spoil Elrond’s council.

To be continued

Author’s Notes:   Oh dear …  poor Legolas!  What will happen now?

Chapter Twenty One –  Flight To The Ford

After scrambling from the water, Elladan and Elrohir emerged at the top of the path in a dead heat.  They looked across to where Arwen should have been standing, ready to proclaim judgement on the winner, but she was not there.  Instead, she was on her hands and knees at the cliff edge, peering down at the river.

“Arwen!  How can you tell – what’s wrong?”  Elrohir’s voice changed sharply.

She twisted round, looking frantic.  “It’s Legolas!  He hasn’t come up yet!”

“What?  Are you sure?”

She nodded miserably.  “You all jumped in at exactly the same time, but I can’t see him!  He’s still underwater!”

“Legolas?  LEGOLAS!”  Elladan bellowed, then waited for a response.  There was no reply.  He turned to his brother and sister, issuing brisk instructions.  “El, go down the other path, see if you can find him there.  Ar, get help, run back to the ford and find the guards.  I’ll go back in.”

With that, Elladan dived off the cliff back into the water.  Elrohir and Arwen exchanged a fleeting glance of surprise at Elladan’s sudden assumption of authority, then scrambled back down the paths to follow their orders.

Elladan dived deep into the water.  The river was a soft peaty brown colour, but he could see clearly.  Looking around wildly, he spotted Legolas straight away.  He was motionless, not even struggling, held beneath the water in some way.  Even as Elladan watched, he was slowly sinking towards the river bed. 

Elladan swam to his side.   Frantic questions raced through his mind. How long had Legolas been underwater?  How long was it since they had jumped in?  He and Elrohir had swum to the side of the pool, clambered out onto the steep bank, then raced one another up the precipitous path, laughing, each trying to trip or hinder the other, assuming that Legolas was in front, that he had already won.  Why had they not noticed that he was missing?  Why had they not realised something was wrong?  How long could he survive?

As he reached Legolas, Elladan shook him slightly, but there was no response.  He tried again, harder this time.  Was it his imagination, or was there a faint reaction, a movement of his eyes?  He had no idea if Legolas knew he was there or not, but wanted to give some reassurance that he was not alone. 

Aware that he himself could not stay underwater for much longer, Elladan searched for what held Legolas.  His right foot had become wedged between two boulders, and was tightly trapped.  Elladan tried futilely to free it, pulling and tugging, but had no success.  His own lungs burning, he kicked back up to the surface to look for Elrohir, and took a deep gulping breath.  There was a splash beside him, and then Elrohir was there, shouting something.

“Where is he?  El?  Did you find him?”

Elladan nodded.  “Trapped,”  he gasped.  “His foot’s caught.  He’s going to drown, El, what can we do?”

“Show me.”

They both dived again, Elladan pointing to Legolas, his trapped foot, the narrow gap between the two stones.  Elrohir stood on the two stones and tried to push them apart with his feet, but the buoyancy of the water made it difficult to put much force into the attempt.  Looking around for some other method, he saw a branch at the bottom of the pool.  Picking it up, he wedged it into the gap, and tried to prise the boulders apart that way.  It seemed an impossible task; the stones were massive, and deeply embedded in the river bed.  However, desperation gave him strength, and he was determined not to give up. Bracing himself against the boulders, he heaved again on the branch.  He was not aware of any movement, but something, somewhere, must have moved fractionally, because suddenly Elladan was tugging at his arm and pointing to the surface.  Legolas was free.

Pulling Legolas with them, the twins swam to the water’s edge.  Elrohir scrambled out onto the bank, kneeling and helping to haul Legolas up and out of the water while Elladan lifted him.  At last Legolas lay on the bank, limp, completely motionless, and deathly pale.  Elladan tilted his head back slightly while Elrohir searched frantically for any sign of breathing, or a pulse, anything to indicate that Legolas was still alive.

Elladan’s panic faded as he remembered every word of his father’s training.  Holding his nose with thumb and forefinger, Elladan covered Legolas’s mouth with his own, and exhaled.  He lifted his head, took a deep breath, and repeated the action.  Elrohir suddenly looked up in triumph.  “He’s alive!  I found a pulse, El!”  It was rather faint and erratic, but it was there, unmistakeable. 

“Good.”  Elladan carried on his attempts, muttering under his breath.  “Come on, Leg’as, don’t do this to us, I really don’t want to have to tell your father we let you drown.  Come on, breathe!”

He was sharply reminded of the last time this had happened, when it had been Elrohir lying there while Taniquel tried to save him, when he had been so frantic with terror that his twin was dead he had been unable to do anything, other than watch helplessly.  This time, he was determined to do something.    He just hoped it would work.

~~*~~

Arwen flew along the path that led back to the ford.  She hoped desperately that Elladan and Elrohir would find Legolas, that the guards would be able to do something.  She was out of breath and had a stitch in her side by the time she reached the outpost.  The guards had of course heard her coming long before, and one was just lowering the bow he had raised.

“Lady Arwen!”  he exclaimed, startled by her sudden appearance.  “What has happened?”

“It’s Legolas,”  she explained breathlessly.  “He’s in the river, we can’t see him.  Eilenach, we need help.”

“Where in the river?  Where were you?  What happened?”

“By the cliff.  We were jumping in the river.  Please, hurry up!”

By a stroke of luck she had arrived just as the guards were changing their shift.  Instead of the usual two, there were four there.  Eilenach turned to the others, giving rapid commands.

“Linhir, go back to Imladris, find Thranduil, or Lord Elrond, or anyone, and raise the alarm.  Ilmarin, stay here to watch the ford.  We cannot leave it unguarded.  Rimmon, come with me.”

Leaving one to continue to watch the ford, his companion ran back to Imladris to raise the alarm.  The two remaining guards went with Arwen back to the pool.  Almost immediately Arwen, already out of breath, began to lag behind.  She could not possibly keep up with the fleet-footed guards.   At last Eilenach turned, and seeing her some way behind, ran back and scooped her up in one arm. 

“Your pardon, Lady Arwen,” he began, aware of the liberty he was taking, knowing how she hated being picked up by anyone other than her parents or brothers.  “But we must hurry.”

“It’s all right,” she reassured him, ignoring the indignity.  “Just this once.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know what’s happened to him!”  she said despairingly.  “We were all jumping off the cliff.  The last time, El and El and Legolas jumped together – they were racing – and they came up, but he didn’t.  Oh, do hurry, Eilenach!”

As she spoke, they came to the river bank at the foot of the cliff.  There was no sign of Elladan or Elrohir, of Legolas, of anyone.  They stopped, and the two guards exchanged glances.  “Lady Arwen?  Are you sure this is the place?”  Rimmon asked her uncertainly.

“Of course I’m sure!”  she snapped.  She gazed around, puzzled.  Where were they?  Now all three had disappeared!   Just as she drew breath to call, Rimmon made another suggestion.  “Could they be on the other side of the hill?”

“Yes, yes they might be!”  She wriggled until Eilenach put her down, then shouted.  “El?  EL!  Where are you?”

A faint voice answered her.  “Ar?  We’re round this side!  Did you find the guards?  We need you round here!  Ar!”

~~*~~

Elrohir could plainly see the despair and fear in his brother’s eyes, together with a shadow of lingering memory.  He had never regained his own memories of the day he had nearly died, but he knew instinctively, with their usual empathy, exactly what Elladan was thinking.  He reached across and touched his brother’s hand lightly in reassurance.  “Don’t worry, El, it will be all right,”  he said with certainty.  “I know it will.  It was last time, wasn’t it?”

As he spoke, Legolas gave a choking gasp, and a little water trickled from his mouth.  He began to cough harshly, moving restlessly.  Quickly, they turned him so that he lay on his side, and sat back, watching anxiously.  After a few moments Legolas blinked, then slowly opened his eyes.  At first his gaze was a little blurred, but he blinked again, gradually focusing on the two figures hovering over him worriedly.

“Legolas?  Can you see me?  Do you know who I am?”  Elladan questioned him carefully.

Elrohir snorted.  “Don’t be daft, El, he can hardly tell us apart at the best of times!  Legolas, can you hear me?”

Legolas nodded fractionally.  “Ellahir,”  he croaked at last, his voice rather hoarse.  “You both are.”  He tried to push himself upright, but his arms were shaking badly.  Elrohir helped to pull him to a sitting position, and Legolas leaned against him.  The movement caused a fresh wave of coughing, and Legolas spat out another mouthful of water.  He rested his forehead  against one arm, propped on a raised knee, and carefully took another deep breath.  “Ai, Elbereth,” he murmured.  “I thought I was dead.”

He looked up as the sound of voices and footsteps approached.  Arwen and two guards were running across the grass towards him.

Arwen dropped to her knees and flung her arms around Legolas.  He returned the hug rather self consciously.  “Legolas, they rescued you!  They saved you, like Taniquel did El!”

Legolas looked up at the twins, still watching over him anxiously.  “Yes, you did.  Thank you.”  It seemed very inadequate, and he gave them both a rather weak smile.  “But there’s one thing I don’t think you need to worry about, in case you were wondering.”

Elladan looked puzzled.  “What do you mean?”

Legolas coughed again, then explained:   “Well,  I don’t think I’m going to fall in love with either of you out of gratitude over this!”

“It’s not gratitude!”  Elrohir protested hotly.  “And I’m not in love with her!  I like her because she’s beautiful, and clever, and brave, and funny, and – oh, shut up, El!”

Elladan was laughing helplessly, and even Eilenach and Rimmon were trying, unsuccessfully, to hide their smiles.  Legolas had also begun to laugh, but it triggered another paroxysm of coughs.  Tears sprang to his eyes.  Their laughter stopped abruptly, and the guards eyed him with concern.

“Legolas?”  Elrohir asked anxiously.  “How do you feel?”

“Terrible,”  he admitted.

“But when you consider the alternative?”  prompted Elladan.

“Considering the alternative, not too bad, I suppose.”  If he was honest with himself, he felt utterly weary, and as weak as a new-born kitten.  But he was alive.  That was the important thing.

Rimmon stepped forward. “Prince Legolas?  Can you stand?  We should go back to Imladris.  I think Lord Elrond should see you as soon as possible.”

“Yes, of course I can stand!  El, can you help pull me up?”  With a little help, Legolas stood, balanced on one foot, swaying slightly, despite steadying himself with a hand resting on Elladan’s arm.

“You are not going anywhere with your foot like that!”  said Eilenach firmly.  “Lord Elrond would have my ears if I let you walk on it, or put it anywhere near the ground!  Linhir has gone to raise the alarm.  Someone will come out with a horse, so you will be able to ride back.  We wait.  And while we are waiting, let me see your ankle.”

His tone made it clear he would not accept any argument.  Legolas sank back down onto the ground, his foot outstretched.  His declaration that he could stand had been an automatic protest.  But his legs still felt like water, and his foot and ankle throbbed mercilessly.  He feared something could be broken.  It was swollen and badly bruised, and there were several deep grazes and cuts, especially around the prominent bones.

He reached down and prodded his ankle cautiously.  Even his own touch hurt.  He winced, and shivered slightly.

“Are you cold?”

Legolas looked up at Eilenach, who was removing his cloak.  He passed it to Legolas, who wrapped it around his bare shoulders gratefully.  “Thank you.  I don’t know why I feel so cold.”

“In the circumstances it hardly seems surprising.”  The guard looked at the others.  “What about the rest of you?  Where are your clothes?” 

Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen glanced at one another, only now realising they were still wearing rather damp underclothes, and nothing else.  “Oh … up there.”  Elladan pointed to the top of the cliff.  “We left everything up there.  I’ll go and get it all.”

Rimmon accompanied him as Elladan started up the path.  Elrohir called after them.  “El!  Don’t forget my wood, it’s in one of the bags!”

“Wood?” questioned Rimmon.  “What does he mean, wood?”

Elladan laughed.  “It’s El’s.  He collects it, for carving.  Branches, logs, roots, anything!  It’s heavy, so he carries it himself.”

Back on the bank, Eilenach had tried to examine Legolas’ foot, but every time he touched it, Legolas flinched away.  In the end he gave up.  “I think Lord Elrond is going to have to see to this.  When Linhir …”  he broke off as the sound of pounding hooves became audible.

Instantly, Eilenach stood, drawing his bow.  Linhir could not possibly have reached Imladris and sent help this quickly.  So who was approaching now?

A great black horse, mane flying, thundered out from beneath the trees, his rider crouching low over the horse’s neck.  Even as the animal slithered to a halt, the rider had dropped off his back and was running across to the group on the bank.

“Legolas?  Legolas!  Are you there?  What happened?”

Legolas used Elrohir to pull himself upright and stood, on one leg like a heron.  “Ada?” he called incredulously.

Thranduil wrapped his son in a tight embrace, murmuring incoherently.  Gradually, words became distinguishable.  “Legolas, are you well?  Are you sure?  Ah, elfling, what did you do this time?  I was so worried about you!”

Legolas returned the hug, content to be held, ridiculously relieved to see his father.  “Ada?”  he whispered.  “How did you know?  How did you come so quickly?”

Thranduil was shaking his head.  “I did not know what was wrong, only that something terrible was happening to you.  I took Morel, and rode in this direction.  I knew something was wrong.  I believe I was talking to Elrond at the time – he must think me dreadfully rude.”

“He will understand,”  Elrohir reassured him.  “Sometimes he or Mother know if anything is the matter with one of us.”

Elladan and Rimmon returned from their errand at that moment, and Eilenach took charge again.  “Your Majesty, I think Prince Legolas needs to get back to Imladris as soon as possible, I think his ankle may be broken.  He should ride your horse.”  He gave the rest of the group a searching glance.  “Are you all ready?” 

As they all nodded, Thranduil lifted Legolas, wrapping Eilenach’s borrowed cloak more closely around him, and hoisted him onto Morel.

Slowly, the rather bedraggled group set off to return to Imladris.

To be continued

Chapter Twenty Two – Elrond’s Healing

Rimmon walked at the back of the group, as rear guard.  He studied the others carefully as they made their way back.  A very routine - boring, even - duty of keeping watch over the ford had suddenly taken a very dramatic turn with Arwen’s arrival and desperate plea.    Both he and Eilenach had been fearing the worst, and they had been greatly relieved to find Legolas safe and – comparatively – well.

Eilenach was at the front of the group, automatically scanning the trees and surrounding undergrowth as he went – as Rimmon was himself.  Just behind Eilenach, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen walked very close together, not quite touching, but as if they drew comfort from one another.  All three were unusually quiet, subdued even, and spoke little, and then in low voices.  The euphoria and high spirits of a few minutes before had been replaced by a sombre mood as realisation of the narrow escape sank in.

Immediately in front of Rimmon, Thranduil walked beside Morel, one hand touching the horse’s mane.  He cast frequent glances up at Legolas, as if reassuring himself that his son was still there, that he still breathed.  Rimmon noticed that the child still shivered slightly, clutching Eilenach’s cloak to him, and seemed to cough more and more frequently.  It could be from the chill he felt, or from reaction to the events.  In any case, the sooner Lord Elrond examined him, the better.

Their way back to Imladris led past the ford.  Ilmarin stepped out from the shadow of the trees as they approached, his gaze going first to Legolas on Morel, then flicking to the other elflings.  He hailed Eilenach. 

“Is all well?”

“Aye.  It is now.”  Eilenach turned back to Rimmon.  “Rimmon, I want you to return to your post for now.  We will continue to Imladris, I shall send replacements when we meet with the others.  Linhir will have reached there by now and sent help.”

Rimmon saluted Eilenach, and left the group, melting into the trees by the ford close to Ilmarin’s position.

The remainder of the group had travelled perhaps halfway back to Imladris before they met the reinforcements Linhir had sent, riding at a flat-out gallop.  Elrond himself was at their head, and he scanned Eilenach’s group swiftly, his expression visibly relieved as he saw Legolas, then moving just as quickly to his own children. 

The two groups halted and joined, then Elrond moved his own horse alongside Morel.  He paused as Arwen ran to his side, bending down to sweep her up in one long arm and settle her in front of him.  He kissed her absently, then turned to Legolas, his gaze swiftly taking in the pallor, the shivering, and the slightly uneven breathing.

“Well, elfling, what have you done to yourself this time?  Are you well?” 

Legolas nodded, a little shakily.  “I  feel fine, thank you, Lord Elrond.”  He stopped, coughing again.  “But as for what happened, I’m not exactly sure of all of it.”

Elrond frowned, and stopped him.  The child certainly did not look well.  “Then perhaps you should tell me later.  Shall we go?”  Without waiting for a further answer, he turned; paused while Eilenach dispatched two guards to replace those at the ford, then led the augmented group back to the halls of Imladris.

When they arrived in the courtyard, there were several others waiting for them.  News of Thranduil’s abrupt departure, followed by Linhir’s message had evidently spread. Celebrían stood at the top of the steps, clearly agitated.  The fact that on this occasion her own children were safe and accounted for, seemed to make little difference to her.  She went straight to Legolas’ side, and looked up at him in concern.

“Oh, Legolas, I was so worried about you!  What happened to you?  And your foot!  Has Elrond looked at it yet?”  She touched it softly with her gentle fingers.  Legolas tensed at first, fearing that even a slight touch would cause more pain, but he found that her caress caused no hurt, only a soothing coolness.  He shook his head slightly in response to her final question.

Confident, encouraged by the lack of pain, he slid off Morel’s back, landing lightly on the ground.  But even that slight impact jarred his ankle, and he stifled a gasp of pain.  Taking an experimental step, Legolas found that he was still unable to walk on his injured foot, and wavered, a little uncertainly, clinging to Morel’s mane.

He looked up as his father moved closer beside him and took his arm.  “Elfling, you have two choices,” Thranduil whispered.  “Either I carry you, or else you walk, with your arm around me for support.  Please do not argue, or tell me that you are ‘fine’.  I want Elrond to look at you immediately.”

Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again.  Suddenly, he found he had no wish to argue.  He felt exhausted, weak, shaky, and humiliatingly close to tears.  Also, there was a worrying tightness in his chest every time he breathed.  Instead, he nodded.  “All right.” 

Thranduil draped Legolas’ arm across his shoulders, holding it in place with one hand, and put the other around his son, supporting him.  That way, he would not have to put any weight on his foot.  Legolas, with a rather worrying lack of protest, allowed his father to help him to his room. 

Elrond followed them, directing Legolas to a chair, where he would be able to examine the injured ankle.  Thranduil perched on the arm, his hand still resting lightly across his son’s shoulders.  Legolas watched carefully as Elrond poked and prodded, rotating and manipulating, feeling the swelling bruises tenderly.  His touch hurt, but not as much as Legolas had expected.  At last Elrond had finished, and replaced Legolas’ foot on a cushioned stool.  He looked at both Legolas and Thranduil with a smile.

“Well, it would seem you have been lucky.  Nothing seems to be broken, but there is some bad bruising and swelling, as well as a few deep cuts and grazes.  How did you come by those?”

Legolas realised that neither his father nor Lord Elrond knew yet what had happened.  “Elladan, Elrohir and I were jumping off the cliff.  We were too close together, so we spread out.  Then, when I jumped, my foot got trapped between two big stones.”  He shivered a little, and coughed.  “Ada, I was so scared,” he admitted.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so frightened in my life.  Not even when I saw the spider.  I tried and tried to get away, but I couldn’t.  I thought I was going to drown.”  He shivered again, and leaned a little closer as Thranduil tightened his embrace.

“So how did you get free in the end?”  his father asked him.

Legolas shook his head, still unsure.  “I don’t know.  The next thing I knew, I was on the bank, with Elladan and Elrohir.  They – they must have saved me.  But I don’t know how.” 

While he had been speaking, Elrond had filled a deep bowl with steaming water.  He added a few drops of oil from a small bottle, and a sharp, herbal scent filled the room.  “Place your foot in here,”  Elrond instructed.  Legolas complied, gingerly immersing his foot in the water.  It smarted at first, but the feeling was soon replaced by a soothing warmth.  For the first time the sharp pain faded.  Elrond deftly cleaned the deep gashes, wiping away the ingrained dirt and slimy green algae from the river, forced deep into the cuts by the sharp edged rocks.  Finally, he rubbed on a cool ointment, massaging it into the bruises and swelling, before wrapping the ankle with a close-fitting bandage.  “How does that feel?”  Elrond questioned.

Legolas flexed his ankle cautiously, before putting it to the floor.  “Better.  Much better.  Thank you.”  He stood carefully, then limped across to the window, testing it. It hurt, but he could walk on it, just.  Halfway there, he stopped.  The simple exertion had aggravated the congestion in his chest, and he began coughing again, harshly.

Both Elrond and Thranduil watched him anxiously.  “Legolas?  Come back here,”  Elrond ordered.  He placed his hand flat on Legolas’ chest.  “Take a deep breath.”

Legolas obeyed, but was only able to draw half a breath before another spasm shook him.  “I can’t,” he explained a little desperately.  “When I try to, it makes me cough.  I can’t breathe properly.” 

Elrond took a handful of herbs from his supplies, cast them into a small dish, and sprinkled them with a thick, oily liquid.  He added water, boiling this time, then held the dish out towards Legolas.  “Breathe in the steam,” he instructed.

Legolas tried, but immediately began coughing again, so hard it made his eyes water.  He was aware of his father rubbing his back, and Elrond, one hand still against his chest, as he gasped for breath.  “Again,” said Elrond.  The burning in his lungs intensified, and he began to feel as if he was choking.  Elrond closed his eyes slightly, and gradually the burning sensation diminished, to be replaced by a slight warmth. 

“Again.”

It was a little easier this time, and Legolas could feel a warm glow spreading out from Elrond’s palm, soothing his raspy breathing.  He coughed again, but it was far less harsh.  “One more time,”  Elrond murmured.

This time, Legolas found he could breathe without discomfort, for the first time since his immersion in the river.  He took another deep breath, and the ache in his chest finally faded away.  He looked at Elrond with a smile.  “Thank you!  What did you do?”

Elrond did not reply immediately, but shook his head regretfully, before finally removing his hand.  “Something I should have done straight away.  Forgive me, I did not realise precisely what had happened.  You must have breathed in some of the river water.  That can be very dangerous if not treated.”

Legolas inhaled again, enjoying the simple pleasure of breathing without pain or discomfort.  It was a sensation he had never even thought about before.  “Thank you,” he repeated. 

Thranduil was still watching him like a hawk.  “Ada, I’m all right now.  Really!”  Legolas protested.

“I hope so.  I was worried about you,” Thranduil said, with massive understatement.

Elrond interrupted.  “Will you both join us now?  Celebrían and I intend to have lunch on the terrace. Will you join us?  I expect Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen will be there too.  I think you had planned a picnic?”

Legolas nodded.  “Ada?  Can we?”

“Are you well enough?  Can you walk that far?”

“Yes!  Of course I can!”  Legolas protested indignantly.

Elrond tactfully left them, with an excuse about needing to talk to Erestor, leaving Legolas and Thranduil to continue at their own speed.  Legolas, fiercely independent, refused his father’s help, and hobbled down the stairs clinging to the banister rail.  As they made their way across the lawn to the bank where the others sat, Elrohir watched Legolas’ progress closely.

Legolas dropped down, with a scarcely muffled sigh of relief, to the grass, stretching his foot out in front of him.  Elrohir suddenly turned and glanced at Elladan.  “I know just the thing!”  he exclaimed, then disappeared inside.  His voice floated back to those on the lawn.  “Legolas, don’t move!  Stay there!”

Legolas shrugged.  “I only just got here!  I’m not going to move again for a while!”

After a while, Elrohir reappeared.  He had one hand hidden behind him, concealing something behind his back, and crossed the lawn again, then presented what he held to Legolas.  “I made this for El, last year, when he fell off his horse!”

Distracted, Legolas turned to Elladan disbelievingly.  “You fell off your horse?”  He had seen how well both twins rode; they had a natural affinity with the animals that was almost Silvan.

Looking disgusted, Elladan nodded.  “But El fell off as well!”  he said defensively.

“Yes, I know I did, but at least I didn’t break my ankle, brother dearest!”

To forestall the inevitable bickering, Legolas turned the gift in his hands.  It was a walking stick, fashioned from a long, straight branch - hazel, by the look of it - bound and shod with a silver ferrule to protect the end.  The handle was shaped to fit comfortably into the palm of a hand.  It had been carved in the shape of a hound, with soft, pricked ears, a long, panting tongue, sharp teeth, and a smiling mouth.  The fur felt shaggy to the touch.

Legolas looked up in delight. “It’s Huan!  It’s just like him!  When did you – oh, of course, you saw him at Lasgalen, didn’t you?”

Elrohir nodded, grinning.  “Yes, and that piece of wood just felt right for Huan!  Do you like it?  Try it!”

Without waiting for an answer,  Elrohir and Elladan pulled Legolas to his feet, and thrust the stick at him.  Taking a few experimental steps, Legolas found that it did indeed help.  It supported his injured ankle, and meant that he would not have to rely on anyone to help him.

He looked at them both, a little awkwardly.  “Thank you, both of you!  Not just for this, but for what you did before as well.”

Before he could say more, Celebrían called to them that their lunch was ready.  Leaning back against trees, or the steep bank, or just sitting on the grass, they ate and drank, and relaxed in the warm sunshine.  Before long, Legolas, still weary from his ordeal, found it harder and harder to stay awake.

“Legolas?  Are you going to watch the Games?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Have you entered for the archery contest yet?”

“Mmm.”

“Legolas?”

“Legolas?”

Disgusted, Elrohir looked up at his father.  “He’s asleep!  Father, what did you do?  Did you give him something?  You keep doing that!”

Elrond shook his head defensively.  “Nothing!  I gave him nothing.  I did not need to.  He simply fell asleep.  It has been a rather eventful morning, after all.”

To be continued

 Chapter 23 – The Lord’s Little Rascals

Elrond beckoned to his sons.  “Elladan?  Elrohir?  Come over here and talk to me.  Leave Legolas to sleep, he does not need you disturbing him.”

Leaving Legolas still asleep beneath one of the huge oaks that overshadowed the lawn, Elladan and Elrohir dropped down onto the grass and sat next to their parents.

“I want you to tell me what happened this morning.  And I want to know everything, not just that you ‘pulled him out’.  I suspect you had to do a lot more than that!”  Elrond had already talked to his sons briefly about the rescue that morning, as they rode back to Lasgalen.  But in front of Legolas himself, they had not wanted to say much.

“We’d been jumping or diving into the river from the cliff,”  Elladan began.  “We were racing, seeing who could be the first back up to the top.  But then Ar said that Legolas was still underwater, so I jumped back in to look for him.  Father, his foot was caught between two huge rocks!  I tried and tried to pull it out, but I couldn’t do anything.  I think I just ended up cutting his ankle even more.”  He cast a quick apologetic glance across to Legolas.  “Then El joined me, and at first he tried to push the stones away, but then he used a long branch, and somehow forced the stones apart, not much, but it was just enough.  I don’t know how he did it, because the stones were so big, so heavy!”

Elrond looked puzzled.  “Yes.  I know what you mean.  But those stones are well to the side of the pool, and are not usually a danger.”

Elladan nodded.  “But we had decided to spread out, to give ourselves more room.  I should have thought about the stones!”

“Did you say you had been diving as well?  Then thank the Valar Legolas did not dive in that time.  If he had hit his head on the rocks, instead of his foot …”  Elrond could not finish the thought.  Beside him, Thranduil gave no obvious reaction, but Elrond felt a shudder run through him.  Involuntarily, he glanced across to where Legolas still lay sleeping.

The twins also exchanged glances.  They had dived into the pool on many, many occasions, never once thinking about that particular danger.

Elrohir took up the tale.  “Well, anyway, then we swam with him to the bank.  That was when we pulled him out.  Well, El pushed, and I pulled.  Then, when we got him out, El managed to get him breathing again, like you said Taniquel did with me.  And then -”  his expression reflected the immense relief they had both felt – “then he coughed, and started breathing again.  And just after that Arwen arrived with the guards, and then you came.”  He nodded towards Thranduil.

“And that was it, really.  That’s all.”  Elladan finished.

“That is all?” Elrond repeated.  “You accomplished the entire rescue before the guards ever arrived.  Well done.”

Celebrían sat between the twins.  She drew them into a warm embrace, hugging them both tightly and kissing them.  “You did extremely well,” she said softly.  “I feel so proud of you both!”

“I must add my own thanks.”  Thranduil stood, and then bowed to Elladan and Elrohir, much to their amazement.  “I will never forget what you have done today.  Thank you.”

“We didn’t stop to think about it,”  Elladan confessed.  “We just did it!”

“We knew the guards would take too long,”  added Elrohir.  “And by that time …”

It was a sobering thought.  The atmosphere was lightened as a slightly sleepy voice called “Why is everyone looking so serious?”  Legolas got to his feet, and using his new stick, limped across to where the others sat.  Thranduil made no attempt to help, although from his expression he was desperate to do so.

As Legolas sat down again, Elladan looked at him very seriously.  “You know, your foot is going to  cause us a lot of trouble now!”

“Why?  What have I done?”

“You know the games start the day after tomorrow.  One of the races is for teams of three, and we were going to enter.  We can’t now!”

Legolas looked dismayed.  “Oh, no!  But I don’t think I’m going to be able to run anywhere for a few days yet.   Elladan, I’m sorry!  I’ve let you down!”

“Of course you haven’t!”  Elrohir kicked his brother.  “He’s teasing you.  It doesn’t matter.  There’s lots of other races.  And you could still go in the archery competition!”

Legolas brightened.  “Yes, I could!”

“And the two of you can still enter the race,”  Celebrían said unexpectedly.  “You could enter with Arwen.”

“Arwen?”   the twins echoed in disbelief.

“Yes, Arwen.  Your sister. Why not?”

Elladan stared at his mother incredulously.  “Why not?”  he echoed again.  “Because – because - ”  he ran out of words.

“Yes, why not?” demanded Arwen.  “Why can’t I do it with you?”

“But – but,”

“Oh, come on El, why not let her?  It might be fun,” added Elrohir surprisingly.

“El!  You …”  Elladan gave an inarticulate cry at the sudden betrayal.   He stopped as he felt his mother’s gaze on him, swallowing his words.

Arwen took full advantage of her unexpected ally.  “You see, El?  It’s two against one now!”  she crowed triumphantly.   “What about you, Legolas?  Do you think they should let me join in?”

Legolas had no intention of getting involved in the squabble, although he could see no real reason why Arwen should be excluded.  It was clear that she was going to win, in any case.  He shook his head vehemently.  “Oh, no.  It’s got nothing to do with me!”

She scowled at him, but then turned back to her eldest brother.  “El?”

“Oh … I suppose so.”  Elladan sounded rather grudging.  “All right, you can join us, Ar.”  However, the furious glare Elladan shot at his traitorous brother suggested that Words would be exchanged later. 

“Thank you, El!”  She hugged Elrohir quickly, then turned to Elladan. “And you, El!”

“Get off, Ar!” he growled.

The group broke up a little later.  Legolas followed Elrohir inside, but fell behind a little – he found steps rather difficult.  Ahead of him, as Elrohir passed a shadowed alcove beneath the stairs, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him in.

“Elrohir!  Why did you do that?  Why agree to Arwen joining us?  You must be mad!”   Elladan sounded furious – he hardly ever used his brother’s full name.

Legolas stopped, and listened gleefully to the reply.  “Oh, why not, El?  Like I said, it could be fun.”

“But she’ll slow us down!  How can we win now?”

“She won’t slow us down that much.  And we can help her over the hard parts if we have to.  Anyway, how long do you think we could have refused, with Mother breathing down our necks like that?  We would have had to agree in the end, you know we would!”

“I know, but you could have supported me  bit more!”

Elrohir sighed.  “El, I’m sorry.  It just seemed easier this way.”  There was a slight pause.  “Don’t you agree, Legolas?”

Legolas peered into the alcove.  “You knew I was here?”

“Yes, of course!”  they both replied. 

“Well, come on, then,”  Elladan sounded resigned.  “If we’re going to do this, we should do it properly.  Father has some entry forms in his study.”

They found the forms, then sat down to complete them.  “ ‘Names of Entrants:’ ”  read Elladan.  “That’s easy.  ‘Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen’. ‘Race Entered:’   ‘Three person’.  ‘Team Name:’. ”  He paused.  “El, what shall we call ourselves?”

Elrohir gave a snort of laughter.  “That’s easy, too,”  he said.   “ ‘The Lord’s Little Rascals’.  What else could we call ourselves?”

“El, that’s perfect!”

Legolas looked puzzled.  “ ‘Lord’s Little Rascals’?  Does that mean something?”

“Oh, yes!  You know what we all call each other?  El and Ar?  Mother says we sound like an alphabet!  Well, according to the guards, El, El and Ar stand for the Lord’s Little Rascals.”  Elladan grinned.  He had completely forgotten his ill temper.

“But they don’t know that we know they call us that!”  added Elrohir.

“It sounds like a very good description to me!”  Legolas agreed.  “Do your parents know about the name?”

“Oh, yes, it was Father who told us!  He thought it was very funny.  And I have to admit, it used to be very appropriate.  I hope we’re better behaved now.  We are most of the time,”   Elrohir confessed.

“I remember what you were like when you came to Lasgalen that time,”  Legolas reminded them.  “But I’m sure Arwen was never that bad!”

Elladan shrugged.  “Arwen?  Arwen can be worse than we ever were!  She just never gets caught!”

“Yes, and when she is, Mother and Father usually think we led her into it anyway!”   The twins, Legolas noticed, were in total unity once more.  Their rare disagreements never lasted for long.

He tried to imagine some of the things Arwen might have got up to.  With the twins as role models, it could be anything.  “Well, go on, tell me!”

“Well, one day she decided that because we look the same, it was too confusing for people,”  Elladan began.

“Not that it ever bothered her, she always knows who we are!  We’ve never managed to fool her,”  Elrohir added.

“Although we used to try.  Anyway, one night she went into El’s room, and cut his hair.  And he must have moved, or the scissors were blunt, or something, because it was all ragged.  Why he didn’t wake up, I don’t know!”   Elladan glanced at his brother, and began to laugh.  “It did look very funny, El, you must admit!”

Elrohir scowled at the memory.  “It wasn’t your hair she cut!  When I woke up, there was hair all over the pillow.  I thought I’d gone bald!”

“I know, I heard you scream!”

Legolas interrupted them.  “Well, go on, what happened then?  Why did she do it?”

“She said it was to make it easier for everyone else to tell us apart.  And it did, it took ages for it to grow back!   Mother had to trim it even more, because it was so uneven.  I looked awful!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t cut your hair to match, Elladan,”  Legolas commented, trying hard not to laugh.

Elladan grinned.  “I thought about it, but El looked so silly, I didn’t want to!”

Elrohir glared at him.  “Thank you for your support!”

“So what happened to Arwen?  Surely she didn’t get away with it?”

“Oh, yes, she did!”  Elrohir sighed at the injustice.  “She said she was just doing it to help, and to stop us playing tricks on people.  The trouble was, only the day before we’d fooled Glorfindel.  He was looking for me, because I hadn’t finished some work properly.  So we both said we were Elladan, and didn’t know where Elrohir was!  He got so confused, he gave up in the end!”

Legolas shook his head in disbelief.  “I think that name the guards call you is just right.  Just wait till I tell my father about it!  Poor Glorfindel.  You must make his life very difficult.”

“We do.  I heard him say once that he wonders why he ever bothered to come back!  El, have you finished with that form yet?  We can give to Erestor if you have.”

Elladan signed the form with a flourish.  “Yes, finished.  Legolas, do you want us to take yours too?  You are entering for the archery, aren’t you?”

“All right, thank you.  It’s all ready.”  Legolas passed the completed form to Elladan, and they left the study. 

Hobbling, Legolas made his way slowly up the stairs to his room, while the twins went in search of Erestor.   Below him, Legolas overheard their conversation.

“El, I’ve just had a brilliant idea!”  Elrohir sounded immensely pleased with himself.

Elladan groaned.  “Oh no, not again.  I hope it’s better than the last one!”

“Idiot!  You know I need a new bow, and you want a new quiver?”

Elladan was cautious.  “Yes, but when we asked Mother and Father, they said we have to wait for our conception day.  And that’s not until Spring, months away!”

“I know they said that last time, but don’t you think, after today, if we ask again they might say yes?”

“El, that is brilliant!  You’re right, they might agree now!”

  Their voices faded  as they went down another passageway.  As he reached the top of the stairs, Legolas smiled to himself.  He had just had a rather good idea of his own.

To be continued …

Chapter Twenty Four – The Games

At the top of the stairs, Legolas debated briefly on which way to go.   Behind him, downstairs and out through the main doors, he could hear some sort of commotion, but decided against investigating for the moment.

Instead of making his way to his own room, Legolas headed for the rooms his father had been given.  He knocked on the door and immediately pushed it open.  Thranduil stood at the far end, gazing out of the windows which occupied most of the end wall.

“Father?   I just had a wonderful idea!”  Thranduil did not reply immediately, he was intent on watching something in the courtyard below.  “Father?”

With a slight start, Thranduil turned.  “Legolas?  Your pardon, my son, I did not hear you!   There are some new arrivals for the Council.”  He pointed down into the yard.

Legolas crossed to the window, and peered down with interest.  “I heard the noise.  Who is it?”  He could see a great many elves and horses, all milling around in the courtyard.  They were all clad in light cloaks, which seemed grey at first, but then appeared to shimmer, reflecting sun or shadow as the light changed.  All of them had hair of the same sort of sun-gold shades as his own, unlike most of the elves of Imladris.  “Who are they?” he asked again.

“The Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, of Lóthlorien.  They have only just arrived in time.  She always did like to make an entrance!”  Thranduil added to himself.  He turned away from the window, and smiled at Legolas.  “Now, what is this wonderful idea of yours?”

Legolas related the conversation he had overheard between the twins.  “Why, the cunning little …” Thranduil muttered to himself.  “Trust those two to think of a way to turn this to their advantage!”

Legolas grinned.  “Why, do you think Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían will say yes?”

“I think they will find it hard to refuse those twins anything they ask for at the moment!”  Thranduil felt a grudging admiration for the pair.

“That’s what I thought.  But then I had an even better idea.  Ada, could we give them both the bows, and arrows, and quivers?  As a thank you present?  Please?”

Thranduil gazed down at his son’s pleading expression and smiled at him.  “I think that is a most excellent idea, elfling.  I was trying to think of a suitable way to thank them – this will be perfect.  Well done!”

“Thank you, father!  Can I tell them?”  Legolas was already heading for the door at a fast limp, his stick thudding on the floor.

“No!  Not yet.  I would ask you not to breathe a word of this for now, not to anyone.  Do you understand?  Let it be our surprise.  I will go and talk to Elrond and Celebrían about it, never fear.  Now, shall we go and meet the new arrivals?”  Together they made their way back down to the hallway, and out into the courtyard.

The scene was one of organised chaos.   The newcomers were being warmly welcomed by Elrond and Celebrían, while horses were being led away by the grooms.  Arwen clung to the arm of one of the visitors, a tall stately looking elf with the same distinctive silver hair as Celebrían, and she was talking to him animatedly.  That surely had to be Lord Celeborn, her grandfather.

Searching the courtyard, Legolas spotted Elladan and Elrohir with another of the new arrivals.   She was – regal was the only term that came to mind.   Austerely beautiful, she had a majestic air that looked more than a little daunting.  At the moment, however, she was listening to something the twins were saying, and replying to them.

“Legolas, close your mouth,”  Thranduil murmured.  “You are gaping again.”

“Sorry, father.  But she’s so – so – ”

“Yes, she is,”  agreed Thranduil.  “As I said, she likes to make an entrance.”

“That’s Lady Galadriel?”

Thranduil nodded absently.  “It certainly is.  Come here, I shall introduce you.”

Afterwards, Legolas could remember little of his first meeting with the imposing lady of the Golden Wood.  Her initial words to him had been, “Welcome, son of Thranduil,”  and her mesmerising eyes seemed to pierce him to the core.  He tried desperately to meet her stare, but eventually he dropped his gaze, muttering some inconsequential greeting, feeling uncharacteristically tongue-tied.   Beside him, his father squeezed his shoulder gently in reassurance,  and gave his own greeting, meeting the steely gaze unflinchingly.

“I will see you again tonight, my Lord Thranduil, and again at the Council.  Will you be at the meal this evening, Legolas?”   Her voice sounded softer now,  more friendly and approachable.

He nodded. “I will, my lady.”

“We will look forward to it,”  Thranduil told her.  “Goodbye until later, my Lady Galadriel.”

*********************************************************************

The Games started on the day after the Council.  They would be spread out over two days, and would consist of swimming, archery, horse racing, running, and the team games.  There would also be contests of singing, poetry recital, and music.  There would be separate archery challenges for the warriors and apprentices, and similarly additional competitions for the minstrels.   A new condition was that no one could enter for more than three contests – to keep numbers manageable, according to Erestor.

“They’re afraid that otherwise we will win everything, and no-one else will have a chance,” commented Elladan to Legolas, when he queried this rule.  Legolas refrained from responding to this astonishing claim, but Arwen had no such restraint.  She gave a most unladylike snort, which her mother would have been horrified to hear.  “Keep dreaming, El!” she told him from where she chattered to a group of friends.

“Is that possible?”  Legolas asked him.  “I don’t mean that you’d win everything, of course, because I’m going to beat you in the archery, but could one person win most of the contests?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Elladan.  “Probably not, not really.  But it would be fun to try!”

Legolas, to his intense disappointment, found that he would not be able to beat either of the twins at the archery contests, for the simple reason that they were not entering in the same classes.

The first competition that any of them were entering was the team race for three.  As they took their places at the start, Elladan peered along the line, seeing who else was there.  “El?  How many other teams are there?  Can you see?”  Elrohir asked him.

“Nine, I think.  Most are from here.  There’s a team from Lórien – no, two teams, and one from Lasgalen.  You’d better look out, El – Taniquel’s in that team!  Are you sure you want to try and beat her?”  He looked again, and gave one of her team an unfriendly look.  “What’s that idiot doing here?” he muttered.

“Taniquel?  Where?”  Elrohir gazed down the line, trying to see, ignoring the laughter from both Elladan and Arwen.  He spotted her at the far end, and waved, but saw no one else he recognised in that team.  One thing, he noticed, was clear - Arwen was by far the youngest of the competitors.  He hoped Elladan would forgive him if they lost by too humiliating a margin. 

As Erestor, the marshal, signalled, they were off, on a dash across the field to a marker post, then a mad scramble down the steep sides of a small ravine.  Each team had to follow a slightly different route, designated by coloured markers which matched the wristbands worn by each member.   The routes would criss-cross and loop around.  Eventually, all the teams would have covered exactly the same ground, and at the end they had to sprint the length of the training field to the finish line.

The Lord’s Little Rascals ran across the field to the trees which marked the edge of the ravine, searching for a marker with a red band.

“There!  I see it!” Arwen exclaimed suddenly.  They veered slightly to the left, and began to scramble down the bank, through trees, undergrowth and rocks.   They splashed through the stream at the bottom, then back up the other side of the slope.  Through the trees they could hear the progress of other teams, shouts, curses, laughter, cries of  “Come on!  Hurry up!”

On the far side of the ravine, at the top of the slope, they came to a path.  Their red marker led them to the right, and almost immediately they came to the first obstacle.  This was a barrier built of logs and was higher than either of the twins.  Elladan ran, jumped, and pulled himself up, sitting astride the top.  He leant down, one hand outstretched to Arwen.  She scrambled up, grabbed his hand, and was hoisted up and over to the other side.  Behind Elladan, Elrohir had already clambered over, and as soon as all three were down, they ran on.

The second obstruction was higher, and had sides that were nearly sheer.  Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a glance over Arwen’s head.  This would be a little more difficult.

 “El, if you pass her up to me, I’ll lift her over again, and then down to you.  All right, Ar?”  Elladan did not wait for an answer, but leapt for the top of the barricade again.

“Come on, then, Ar.”  Elrohir was about to lift her, when Arwen suddenly moved a few paces to one side. 

“There’s no need!  I see a better way!”  She dropped to the ground, and on her stomach, wriggled through a narrow gap at the bottom of the fence.  Elrohir stared after her in disbelief.  She had got to the far side much more quickly than he or Elladan could, and by a route they could not use.  The gap was far too small for either of them.  From the other side he could hear her calling him impatiently.  “Come on, El!”

He climbed to the top, swung over and dropped down beside the other two.  “Nice work, Ar!”  he praised her.  They carried on along the path.  Ahead they could see one of the other teams from Imladris, and behind, just negotiating the barrier, one of the teams from Lórien.  The relative positions did not mean anything at this stage, each team would be following a slightly different route, which would not join until they all merged at one end of the warriors’ training grounds.

Arwen suddenly pointed to the team in front of them, then at an almost-hidden marker post, edged with blue.  “Look!  That’s their mark!  They must have missed the post, they’re going the wrong way!  Do you think we should tell them?”

“No!”  Elladan and Elrohir spoke, as usual, simultaneously.  “Don’t do that!  It’s bad luck, I know, but they certainly wouldn’t tell us!”  Elrohir continued.

“I suppose not.  I hope we haven’t missed any of our markers!  We haven’t, have we?”  Arwen sounded anxious.

“Let’s hope not.  Keep your eyes open!”

There was a further barrier ahead, not quite so high, but still awkward to climb over.  The other team scaled it fairly easily and disappeared from sight.  As the twins and Arwen approached it, Arwen repeated her trick, squirming through a tiny space at the base of the barricade.   They could hear her on the far side, hopping from one foot to the other with impatience, urging them to hurry.  “Oh, come on, you two!  Someone will catch us up soon!  I can hear another team coming up the bank!”

“Shut up, Arwen!” snapped Elladan as he and Elrohir scrambled over the logs.  “We’re coming as fast as we can!”

As they landed beside her, Arwen pointed excitedly to the bushes at the side of the track.  “Look!  A red marker!  We have to go that way!”

“Well spotted, Ar!”  Elladan clapped her on the back so hard she nearly stumbled.  “That was sneaky of Erestor, putting a post there.  It’s easy to miss it as you come over the fence!”

A little breathless now, they began the descent to the bottom of the ravine again.  It was steep, and slippery underfoot with fallen leaves from last autumn.  Suddenly Elrohir slipped, sliding and skidding downhill in a flurry of leaves, earth and twigs.  Eventually he slithered to a halt at the bottom and picked himself up, brushing the dirt off, while Elladan and Arwen joined him.

“Are you all right, El?”  asked his brother.

“Fine, but look at this!  I don’t know where it came from; I must have knocked it over!”  Elrohir held up one of the mark posts, ringed with white.  “If I don’t put it back in the right place, they’ll go wrong!”  They scanned the ground quickly, trying to see where the post may have been.

“Here, I think,” said Elladan at last, pointing to a slight indentation in the ground.  “They have to go that way.”  He pointed along the side of the valley.  They replaced the post, hoping fervently that it was in the right place.  While they had been searching,  Elrohir spotted a post indicating they had to splash their way along the stream bed.  They halted momentarily to splash their faces with the cool water, and to drink a little.  Then they set off again, welcoming the coolness on their feet.  Almost immediately, they met another team – heading in the opposite direction.  Exchanging nods of acknowledgement, they passed by – and immediately started whispering. 

“Are they going the wrong way, or are we?” Elladan hissed.

“I’m not sure – maybe neither of us is – these routes seem to go all over the place!”  Elrohir reassured him.  Behind, he could hear the other team airing the same concerns, seeming equally bewildered.

“Perhaps we’re all going the wrong way!” suggested Arwen cheerfully.  With the confusing marker posts, it was certainly possible, she felt.

The twins exchanged a glance of exasperation.  “Shut up, Arwen!” they snapped. 

“How far along here do you think we have to go?”  Elrohir wondered aloud.  “This stream widens out soon, and gets much deeper, doesn’t it?  If we don’t turn off soon, how will we cross it?”

“I’m not sure.   Perhaps we – look, I see!  A rope swing, just like the one at Lasgalen!”  Elladan exclaimed.

“What rope swing at Lasgalen?”  Elrohir asked in puzzlement.

“You remember!”  Elladan paused then.  “Oh – no, you don’t do you?  Sorry, El!”

Arwen’s sudden giggle told them that she understood this peculiar exchange perfectly well.    “Well, come on, then!” she insisted.  “How can we reach it?  It’s too far away!”

Elladan looked around to see if there was a branch or something similar he could use to snag the rope, but could find nothing.  He looked at the rope carefully, assessing the distance.  “El?  Do you think we can do it?”  He did not bother explaining his plan.  He knew Elrohir would understand.

“I think so.  It’s worth a try, anyway.”  Grabbing his brother’s wrist, Elrohir braced himself as Elladan leaned out as far as he could over the pool.  “Can you get it?”

“No. Not quite.  Take my hand instead.”  Elrohir shifted his grip, allowing Elladan to reach a few inches closer to the rope.  “Nearly there … just a little further … El, whatever you do, don’t – let – go!”  He stretched forward as far as possible, extending every bone, every muscle, in his shoulder, arm and wrist, until his fingertips just brushed the rope, and gave an exclamation of disgust.  “I can’t get hold of it!”

“Then push it.  Push it away from you,” came Elrohir’s surprising advice.

Elladan twisted his head round to look at his twin in disbelief.  “El, are you mad?  I want to grab it, not push it away!”

“I know.  Push it away, then catch it as it swings back again.”

“El, that’s brilliant!”   Elladan did as instructed, and to his delighted surprise the rope swung further away, then came back, close enough for him to hook his fingers around.  “Got it!”

Elrohir pulled his brother back to safety, then watched while he took a run and a leap, swinging across the pool to land on the far side.

“Easy!  El, send Arwen across now.”

Arwen clung tightly to the rope, and Elrohir gave her a hefty push.  Being lighter than her brothers, she did not have the same momentum, and could not quite reach the other side.  But by stretching out her hand to Elladan, he was able to seize it and pulled her the rest of the way, before flinging the rope back to Elrohir.  As he landed next to his brother and sister, the team from Lasgalen appeared through the trees.

“El, quick!  Let’s go!  We must be near the end now!” Elladan urged.

Taniquel called across to him.  “Elrohir, let me have that rope!  Please?  Don’t just let go!”

Elrohir hesitated, torn.  Beside him, Elladan shook his arm.  “El, no!  Don’t help them!  Come on, hurry!”

“Elrohir, please!  For me?”

With a nod, Elrohir sent the rope across to Taniquel with a hard push.  He heard a moan of disgust from both Elladan and Arwen.  “Why did you have to do that?  They’ll catch up now!”

Elrohir did not care.  From the other side of the pool Taniquel called her thanks, then blew him a kiss, to a chorus of whistles from her two team mates.

As they scrambled up the bank, back towards the training grounds and the last part of the race, Arwen looked back.  “Elrohir, why have you gone all red?”

“Shut up, Arwen!” 

At the top of the slope the land levelled out, and ahead was flat ground leading to the training field and the finishing post.  As they emerged from the trees, Elrohir glanced to his right, and saw two other teams appearing.   “Oh no!  Come on!”  he urged.  They raced across the grass to the training ground, about level with one of the opposing teams, slightly ahead of the other. 

But Arwen was flagging.  She had gamely kept up with her brothers throughout the gruelling race,  but she was tiring.  She was out of breath and had a stitch in her side.  Over her head,  Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a glance of concern as she slowed still further.  “Come on, Ar!”  they encouraged her.

“I’m trying!”  she gasped.

“Right, there’s only one thing to do,”  Elladan decided.  “Ready, El?”  With that, her brothers grabbed one arm each, hoisting Arwen off her feet, and ran, flat out, to the end of the field, the finishing post, and the cheering spectators.  They crossed the line just one step ahead of the other team, also from Imladris, jubilant and exhausted.

“We did it!  We did it!”  They hugged each other tightly, and collapsed onto the grass, panting, completely out of breath.  

“Arwen, you were fantastic.  Well done!”  the twins praised her. 

“I quite agree.  You all did well!”

Elrohir looked up to see his father, beaming with pride, approaching and he sat up. “Father, we won!” 

Arwen bounced to her feet, her tiredness forgotten, and Elrond hugged all three at once.  “Congratulations!  You did marvellously well, all of you!”

Gradually the other teams appeared.  Taniquel’s came third, and finally, trailing in well and truly last, was the team that had missed their marker, and who had got totally lost.  The cheers and applause that greeted them was liberally laced with jeers and good-natured teasing from the other teams who awaited them.  When all nine teams had crossed the finishing line, Erestor announced the winners.

“In first place, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen, the Lord’s Little Rascals!”  There was a ripple of laughter at that.  Most of Imladris knew of the nickname, but few realised that they knew of it.

Elladan and Elrohir tensed at a mutter from somewhere behind them.  “It was a fix!  It had to be!”  Before they could identify the speaker, Elrond turned around.

“Finglas?”  He raised one eyebrow and glared at the culprit.  “Would you care to repeat that?”

Finglas shook his head fearfully, rather wide-eyed.  “Ah – no, Lord Elrond.  I apologise.  Forgive me.”  Bowing to both Elrond and his offspring, he turned and left hurriedly, pushing his way through the crowds.

The twins looked at one another indignantly, but before they could voice their resentment, there was a commotion behind them.  Turning, they could see Finglas picking himself up from the ground where he had evidently fallen.  Legolas stood over him, apologising profusely.  “I’m so sorry!  How foolish of me, I did not mean to leave my bow where you could fall over it!  Here, let me help you up!”  As he stepped forward, his foot somehow became entangled with Finglas’s cloak, and he tripped again.  It was noticeable that no one else made any attempt to help Finglas.  Many who had overheard his comment had been offended by the slur, and were now amused at his plight.  “Oh dear, how clumsy of me!  I’m sorry!”  Legolas repeated.  Eventually he released Finglas, and joined his friends.

Elrohir clapped him on the shoulder.  “Legolas, that was brilliant!  Thank you!  He deserved that, he’s always been a pompous fool!”

“Well, what a cheek!  I heard what he said, as if you’d cheat!”

Elrond looked down at Legolas.  “Thank you for your support, elfling.  But I fear you may have made matters difficult for yourself.  Finglas is one of the judges for the archery tomorrow!”

To Be Continued

Chapter 25 – The Archery Contest

Legolas limped back to where his father stood, wondering if he had acted too rashly.  Although bitterly disappointed that the team from Lasgalen had only finished third, he was genuinely pleased that Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen had won –  even though it meant he had lost a wager with Athela, one of Elrond’s trainee healers.  They had deserved it.  The accusation that his friends had somehow cheated incensed him, and he had reacted impulsively.

Thranduil had not seen precisely what happened, just a flurry of movement.  “Legolas?  Are you well, little one?  Did you fall?  Did you hurt your ankle again?”  He sounded concerned.

“Well, no, Ada.  But – I think I just did something rather silly”  He explained what had happened, and why, rather shamefaced.

“He accused Elrond’s children of cheating?  And Elrond overheard him?”  Thranduil was incredulous.  “It was very well meaning, but perhaps not wise of you to become involved, my son.  Elrond is more than capable of dealing with him.”

“It’s worse than that,” Legolas admitted.  “Apparently this Finglas is one of the judges tomorrow for the archery contests.  I think he could deliberately mark me down in retaliation.”

Privately, Thranduil vowed that if there was any hint of a bias against Legolas, he would deal with Finglas – personally.  However, aloud he merely said mildly, “Then you had better shoot so well that there is no room for any doubt at all.  I know you can do well.”  He did not add that he had made a wager with both Glorfindel and Erestor that Legolas would win the contest.  That was unimportant now.

The next day dawned bright and clear, and the slight breeze of the previous day had died away completely.  It was perfect weather for archery.  Legolas had risen at dawn and had already been out to the range before breakfast to practice.  Then he spent some time checking his bow and all his arrows.  He checked the wood carefully, testing the suppleness, and examined the string, making sure the tension was right, that it was not beginning to fray.  Next he checked each arrow again, squinting along the shaft to ensure it was perfectly straight and would fly true, and finally tested the flight feathers for alignment.  There were only two arrows he was not totally happy with, and he placed those at the back of his quiver to use only as reserves.

As he began to finger the straps on the quiver, wondering if he should adjust them for a better fit, his father spoke from behind him.

 “Nervous?”

Legolas jumped and spun around.  “Nervous?” he repeated.  “No, not at all.  Why?”  Even to himself, he sounded unconvincing.

“Because I have just watched you fiddle with that strap for the last ten minutes,” Thranduil explained.  “And because I know you normally take less than five minutes to do everything.”

“I just want to make sure everything’s ready!”  Legolas explained defensively.  “And – and – it stops me thinking about the contest.  And Finglas,”  he added.

Thranduil dropped down on the grass next to Legolas.  “I told you, you have no need to worry.  He would not dare to penalise you, surely?  Why do you think he might?”

“Well – Elladan said that his son was in the team that came in last yesterday. The ones that got lost.  And he said that they’re both really bad losers.  And I really want to win, because no-one from Lasgalen has won anything yet!”  Legolas rather felt that the honour of the Greenwood rested on his shoulders alone.

Thranduil turned to face Legolas,  touching his cheek lightly.  “Legolas, just do your best.  That is all I have ever asked of you, you know that.  And in the end, if someone else shoots even better and beats you, it is not the end of the world, now is it?  I will be proud of you, no matter what,”  he smiled.  “I always am.”

Legolas’s anxiety vanished, and he smiled in response.  “Thank you, Ada!”  He was still a little worried about Finglas, but suddenly it seemed less important, somehow.

Despite his early start, his own contest was not until nearly midday.  To while away the time, and to stop himself from dwelling on events, he watched some of the other archery contests first.   The first was for novice warriors, who had to shoot at a series of targets while riding across the field – on an unfamiliar horse. 

Legolas watched avidly.  On his own Dorlath, he had often practised this sort of thing.  He could not wait until he began warrior training, and could enter the contest himself.  As the contest progressed, the shots became more and more complex, until at last there were only two contestants left – one from Lasgalen, the other from Lórien.  The novice from Lasgalen, he realised, was Hirilornë – whose insanely dangerous shot had nearly killed Elrohir a few years before.  It seemed he had indeed learnt from that incident. 

Legolas waited anxiously as Hirilornë’s turn came again.   At a signal, he galloped across the field, firing to the left and to the right, managing to place each arrow close to the centre of the target.  Would it be enough?  The entrant from Lórien was next – a young novice named Rúmil.  He rode well, but it seemed to Legolas that his shots were not quite so accurate.  Which part of the contest would bear most weight?  Rúmil was faster; there was no doubt about that, but further from the target.   Waiting with bated breath, Legolas could not restrain an exultant cry as Hirilornë was declared the winner.

Hoping desperately that it was a good omen, Legolas crossed to the part of the archery range where his own contest would be held, an open competition for all comers.  There were warriors, novices, healers, and enthusiastic entrants from everywhere, it seemed.  It was one of the few contests where Legolas could test his skill against that of warriors and novices from all the realms. 

The first round of the competition was a simple measure of skill.  Each contestant shot a single arrow at the targets, placed at a distance roughly half the archery range away.  Half, those with the highest scores, won through to the next round.  Half were eliminated. Legolas, along with ten others, scored a perfect mark, and they, together with several more competitors, continued.  Each time, the targets were moved progressively further away, making the shots increasingly difficult, until by the fourth round only five contestants would remain.   

It was at the end of the third round that the first sign of trouble came.  Legolas fired at the target, noting with satisfaction that he had hit the centre of the target once more.  However, as he moved away, back to the waiting area, a call came from the judges at the far end.  “Legolas of Lasgalen – disqualified.  Next!”

Incredulous, Legolas stared at the two judges, wondering what on earth he had done wrong.  It seemed he was not the only one; there was a murmur from the crowd, and the second judge, a warrior from Lórien, was querying Finglas’s decision.  An explanation finally came.  “Your left foot crossed the marker line.”

Instinctively, Legolas glanced down at his feet.  It was true, his foot was now over the line – he had stepped forward on completing the shot as he moved away for the next competitor.  But he had not touched the line before the shot – he knew he would never make such a basic error.  “But –” he began, then stopped.  There was something in Finglas’s expression – he hoped Legolas would contest the decision.  Such an action would lead to instant disqualification – not just from this contest, but from any others in the Games as well.

He bit his lip, staring at the two judges, feeling trapped.  Summary disqualification was desperately unfair and humiliating, but if he argued things would be even worse.  Salvation came from the Lórien judge.  “There is some – uncertainty – on the matter.  You must take the shot again.”

Relieved to have escaped the disgrace of disqualification, Legolas simply nodded, and reached for another arrow.  He made certain that he was standing well back from the marker line, feeling annoyed at the injustice.  He hoped desperately that he could equal the first shot, and tried hard to relax, to let go of the tension that had gripped him.  To his disappointment, the shot was not as good as the first, landing fractionally off centre – but it was good enough to take him through to the next round.

The next round, now that just five of the most skilled entrants were left, was far more difficult.  It became a test of speed as well as skill.  Each archer had to throw a small ball into the air, draw an arrow, fire, and catch the ball again before it hit the ground.

Legolas listened to the instructions carefully.  It would be difficult, but not impossible, he felt.  He watched as the first contestant took his turn.  He did not throw the ball high enough, and was unable to catch it after taking the shot.   The warrior gave a muttered curse as the ball hit the ground, and retired, defeated.

The next contestant, learning from that, threw higher.  He completed the shot, but as well as throwing the ball high, had thrown it slightly to one side.  He too was unable to catch the ball.

Legolas went next.  Trying to learn from the mistakes the two previous contestants had made, he took his time preparing.  He checked that an arrow was within easy reach, took a deep breath, and threw the ball high.  In the same movement, his hand swept back and seized the arrow.  He fired, hit the target – and caught the ball, to loud cheers from the crowd.  Grinning in triumph, he turned, looking for his father in the crowd, and saw him applauding with everyone else.

Everyone went silent as the next warrior prepared his shot.  With a quiet determination,  Halmir, a novice from Imladris, threw, fired, caught – and also hit the target, just as Legolas had done.  The spectators cheered wildly again – two out of the final five had managed to make the incredibly difficult shot.  Now all eyes turned to the final contestant, Fíriel, the only female left in the contest.  With a swift, precise move, she tossed the ball high into the air, drew an arrow, sent it into the exact centre of the target, and caught the ball again with an ease that made the whole thing look deceptively simple.

The two judges – Finglas, and Haldir from Lórien – conferred.  It was clear they had not expected anyone to succeed and were swiftly formulating plans for yet another round.  Legolas and the two remaining contestants stifled groans of despair as the next round was announced.  The task would be similar – but this time they would face in the opposite direction to the targets.  On throwing the ball they had to turn, fire, and then turn again, so that they ended up with their backs to the target once more – and again catch the ball.  It meant they would be unable to line up the shot before the turn commenced, and would test their speed of reaction even further.

Halmir went first.  Legolas and Fíriel watched closely as he threw, turned, drew, fired, turned again, and caught the ball.  However, in his haste, he fumbled the release of his arrow, and it sank into the ground several feet in front of the target.   “Impossible,” he muttered.  “No one can do it.  But good luck, both of you!” he added good naturedly to his fellow contestants.

But it was possible, Legolas decided, watching carefully.  Yes, Halmir had missed the target – but he had completed all the necessary moves, so it could be done.  He waited as Fíriel took her place.  Her shot went a little wide, but it struck the outer ring of the target firmly.  As she caught the ball, she twisted her head around to look.  “Elbereth!  I did it!” she breathed in amazement.

Halmir and Legolas added their own applause to that of the spectators as they congratulated her.  Then Legolas took his own place.  He raised one hand to his throat, fingers brushing against the stone he wore there, a leather thong threaded through the hole in the centre.  A gift from his father, a special memento, he felt it had always brought him luck.  He waited until total silence fell, and became still and intently focused.  He threw the ball.  As he span around, already drawing and nocking an arrow, he heard a gasp of horror from those watching.  He was already facing the target, and releasing the arrow, when he saw a tiny child, escaping from the clutches of her parents, run forward towards the target, directly in the path of his shot.

It was too late to shout a warning, too late to stop the arrow, too late to do anything to prevent tragedy – but Legolas found his left hand had jerked upwards instinctively, sending the arrow sailing high into the trees, passing safely over the child’s head.

He froze, staring in disbelief, unable to believe that he had been able to miss her, unable to believe his reaction, hearing dimly the deafening shouts and cheers of the crowd.  Above the noise, he clearly heard the soft thud as the ball fell, unseen, to the ground behind him.

A sense of bitter shame swept over him, and he turned away from the target, facing Fíriel.  “Well done,” he managed to say.  He walked off the field, scarcely hearing the buzz of protest that followed him.

Fíriel walked swiftly behind him, catching his arm and pulling him around to face her.  “Legolas?  Surely you do not think you will be penalised for that?  You saved her life!  Come back, you should win the contest for what you did!”

He shook his head.  “No.  It’s over.  Congratulations, you did well.”  He turned away again, trying to get off the archery range, away from the crowds and noise.  But the delay had cost him.  Both Finglas and Haldir were converging on him now, and then he saw his father approaching as well.

Legolas stood stiffly as Thranduil hugged him, whispering, “That was an amazing shot.  Well done, I feel so proud of you!”  Then he had to listen as both judges praised him, for the speed of his reaction and the skill of the shot, telling him to try again, convinced he would win the contest.  Finglas seemed as keen as Haldir was on the second chance, his earlier animosity forgotten.

Resolutely, Legolas shook his head again.  “No,” he repeated adamantly.  “I don’t want to.  Fíriel won.  She deserves it.”  He walked away again, and this time made it to the edge of the field, although he could hear his father’s voice calling to him.  For the first time in his life he ignored it, as the shame overwhelmed him.

He could still hear the hubbub behind him, and the echoes of Thranduil, Fíriel, Haldir and Finglas all praising him for what he had done.  If they knew the truth, they would not be so swift to congratulate him.  They would never forgive him.

To Be Continued

Chapter Twenty Six – And The Winners Are …

Still feeling rather numb, Legolas left the field and began to make his way through the trees towards Imladris, before realising that he would have been better to head for somewhere more secluded.  In front of him he could see Elladan and Elrohir, on opposite sides of the path, moving quickly, clearly angling to intercept him.  Behind him he could hear his father, still calling him, and hurrying to catch him.

Accepting the inevitable, Legolas stopped and waited.  As the twins approached him, they exchanged a glance, then Elladan demanded, “Well?  What was all that about?”  Legolas shrugged, glanced over his shoulder, and waited until his father joined them.

“Yes.  I would like to know as well.  Tell me,” Thranduil told him, in a tone that left no room for manoeuvre.  With a rather hunted expression, Legolas moved to the side of the path and dropped down onto the grass at the side of the track.  He gave a long sigh.

The twins looked at Legolas and his father, then exchanged another glance.  “Do you want us to leave?” Elrohir asked tactfully.

Legolas shook his head.  “No.  It doesn’t matter.  Everyone – everyone keeps telling me how well I did.  But I didn’t, not really.”

Elladan started to protest, but Thranduil silenced him with a wave of his hand.  “Why not?” he asked quietly.

“Because – because when I saw her, my first thought wasn’t that she was going to be killed, but that the stupid little elleth was going to ruin the competition, and made me miss my shot!  I was more worried about the contest than I was about her!  And it shouldn’t have been that important; it isn’t important, and if anything had happened to her I’d never have been able to forgive myself, but it made me realise that I didn’t care about the contest anymore.  Not if it made me think like that.  So I withdrew,” he finished simply.

Thranduil sat at Legolas’s side, placing an arm around his son and pulling him close.  “Oh, Legolas,” he murmured.  “Is that it?  Is that what you were so ashamed about?  A spur of the moment reaction?  We have all thought, and said, and done things we regret later – or immediately.  Just for a moment, your priorities became muddled.  With the nature of the competition, and the pressure you were under, it is hardly surprising.  It is a part of life.  It is a part of life to accept our faults, do what we can about them, and to move on.  Do you still blame the child?”

“No, of course not!  I realised at once that it wasn’t her fault, or her parents’.”  He smiled, a little sheepishly.  “I remember what I was like.”

Thranduil smiled also at that reminder.  “Aye, so do I!  Legolas, there is nothing to be ashamed of.  You felt a momentary disappointment, when it appeared that something you cared about so much was going to be spoilt.  But the way you deflected the shot was amazing.  That is what people are going to remember.  And I think that the only reason you feel so guilty is because you keep thinking about what could have happened.”

“I know.  If I’d turned just a moment later; if I hadn’t seen her; if I hadn’t moved the bow – I didn’t even realise I’d done it!  Ada, I could have killed her.”  He shivered at the thought.

“But she is safe and well, thanks to you.  Shall we go back and see her?  I expect her parents will have something to say to you about it.”  Thranduil stood, and pulled Legolas to his feet. 

Legolas hesitated.  “I – I don’t know if I want to go back and face everyone.  Not after walking off like that.”

“Legolas, you can do one of two things.  You can go back to Imladris, and keep out of everyone’s way, or you can go back to the archery field and watch the rest of the games.  They will not be over yet.  Which is it to be?”

After a moment’s consideration, Legolas gave a slight smile.  “I’ll go back.”  He raised one hand and pointed towards the field.  “That way.  And I think I’d better apologise to Finglas and Haldir, too.  But I won’t retake the shot!”  he warned.

Elladan and Elrohir, who had been listening silently, followed as father and son retraced their steps.  At the field where the games were being held, the next contest, a race, had finally started, albeit a little late.  Finglas and Haldir were still carrying on a heated debate with Erestor, who was in overall charge of the Games, and as the group approached, Haldir beckoned Fíriel over.  The judges spoke to her, but she shook her head emphatically.

“No,”  they could hear her insisting.  “I won’t accept, not like that. He would have completed the shot, you know that as well as I do.  If he won’t take it again, then I withdraw as well.”

The judges moved away, and conferred quietly again.  At one point Haldir looked up, his eyes scanning the crowd, and he nodded slowly, looking relieved.  He saw Legolas watching the exchange, and called to him.

Rather apprehensively, Legolas approached the three judges. What would their verdict be about his conduct?  He knew he should never have left the field like that, it could disqualify him from any future events.  Withdrawing from the contest of his own volition was one thing, but disqualification would bring shame to Lasgalen.

Haldir, Finglas and Erestor waited until the three final competitors had all assembled.  Haldir spoke into the tense silence.  “We have been discussing how to judge the last round,” he announced.  “We do have a clear winner, but she has refused to accept the prize.  Therefore, in the circumstances we propose to disregard that part of the competition, and award the winners on the previous round.  We declare the contest to be a three-way draw.”

Halmir, Fíriel and Legolas exchanged rather wary glances, and then nodded reluctantly.  None of them really felt that they deserved the title, but this would be an acceptable compromise.  Fíriel finally spoke for all three.  “Very well,” she said.  “I still think there would have been a different outcome, but we accept.”

Haldir presented a winner’s token to each of the three competitors – a disc of silver, engraved on one side with a bow and quiver, and with the waterfall symbol of Imladris on the obverse.  Legolas barely glanced at it, and thrust it into his pocket before giving the judges a brief salute, then turning away.

“Well, that seems to have been a satisfactory outcome,”  Thranduil told him, appearing at his side. 

“I suppose so,”  Legolas murmured.  He was still not happy.  “It seems to have made life easier for the judges, anyway.”

He would have changed his mind if he could have overheard the debate that started afresh behind him.  Erestor, deeply unhappy, was still debating with Haldir and Finglas.  “It is not that I question your decision,” he was saying.  “It seems the most equitable way to end it.  But the rules are quite clear!  A contestant who leaves the field without permission is automatically disqualified.  You know that as well as I do.  As much as I wish it, I cannot overlook that!  Legolas should be disqualified.”  There were times when being Marshall meant making some difficult choices.

Haldir managed to look surprised.  “But Legolas did request permission!  I heard him quite clearly.  So did you, Finglas!”

Finglas, who had heard no such thing, looked startled.  “But he –”  he began.  Then, as Haldir nudged him, he caught sight of the child whose sudden appearance had caused such chaos.  She was running towards Legolas, her arms outstretched, a ragged bunch of flowers – half of them weeds – clutched in one hand.  As they watched, she presented the flowers to him with a huge smile.  Legolas accepted the gift solemnly, kneeling on the grass beside her.  Then, in exchange, he gave her a small silver disc, placing it in the palm of her hand and closing her fingers over it gently.

 “Yes,”  Finglas corrected himself.  “Yes, I did hear him.”

To Be Continued

This story is finally level with the version on ff.net.  From now on, when I update a chapter, it will be published on both sites at once.  Thank you for continuing to read and review.

Chapter Twenty Seven – The Troll Hunt

The games were over, and the debates of the elf lords in council had been satisfactorily concluded.  In a few more days, Thranduil, Legolas, and their entourage would return to Lasgalen, and with the departure of the last of the guests, Imladris would return to its usual peace and tranquillity.

At breakfast on the day following the official closing of the Council, a messenger arrived for Elrond.  “My lord, our scouts have reported finding traces of trolls again.  It seems they have returned to their caves in the woods in the Trollshaws.”

Elrond sighed.  “Thank you.  Would you find Glorfindel, and send him to me?  I do not see him here.”

With a salute, the messenger left.  He left a buzz of conversation in his wake, and a great deal of excitement on the tables where the younger elves sat.  Trolls were a periodic problem in the area, preying on unwary travellers and merchants using the great East-West road and the trading routes along the banks of the Bruinen and Mitheithel rivers. 

“Did you hear what he said?  Trolls!”

“Where in the Trollshaws?  My father says it’s a big area.”

“Do you think we’d be allowed to go and see?  We could look for them!”

“I already knew all about them.  My father’s one of the scouts who found them!”

Elladan and Elrohir listened as avidly as all the others as the trolls were discussed, and wild, improbable plans made to investigate.  Eventually Elladan, realising the futility of the schemes, finished his breakfast and left the table with a wave to his brother and Legolas.  “I’ll see you later, El.”

As the ideas grew wilder and wilder, Elrohir tried to inject a note of sanity to the proceedings.  “You know we’d never be allowed to go.  We can’t cross the river anyway, and it would be far too dangerous!”

The elfling who had bragged about knowing of the trolls in advance, turned on him in scorn.  “Too dangerous!” he repeated.  “Just because you don’t dare, just because your father won’t trust you to go that far!”

Elrohir bit down on the flare of anger that surged inside him.  “You know that’s not true, Finglor.  You wouldn’t be allowed either.  None of us would.”  He tried hard to maintain a reasonable tone.

“You mean you wouldn’t dare.  You’re scared, Elrohir!”  Finglor teased him.

Privately, Elrohir considered that anyone with any sense would be scared of trolls, but he was not going to mention that in front of Finglor.  In any case, Finglor, although he certainly did not have much sense, was probably scared too.  “Well, you wouldn’t get me or Elladan  going anywhere near them.  If the trolls didn’t catch you, the guards would!”  he said firmly.

“ ‘Me or Elladan’ ”  Finglor mocked.  “Of course, you wouldn’t do anything without him, would you?”  His words were getting more vicious.  “You never do.  You never say or do anything on your own!  You never go anywhere without your shadow!  I don’t believe you can even think without him!”

“Well, I don’t see Elladan anywhere now.  You’re jealous, Finglor, that’s all.  Just because you haven’t got any friends!”  Legolas spoke up hotly.  “Leave him alone.”

Elrohir stood suddenly, pushing his chair back with a crash.  “Leave it, Legolas!” he snapped.  “I can fight my own battles.”  He turned on Finglor.  “I don’t need Elladan, or anyone else, to tell me that it’s stupid to go chasing after trolls! Only the very best warriors, like Glorfindel, will be in the patrols that hunt them.  I’d like to see you try!”  He thrust the chair back in beneath the table with a bang, turned, and walked quickly away, still fuming.  Back at his own room he kicked the door open and slammed it violently shut behind him.

Obviously drawn by the noise, Elladan came in through the middle room they shared.  It had originally been a playroom, and more recently a combined study/sitting room.  “What’s the matter with you?” he asked, rather surprised.  “You look annoyed.”

Scowling, Elrohir dropped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.  “It’s Finglor.  He’s an idiot,”  he said shortly.

“Well, I know that.  We both do.  Why is he an idiot this time?”

“He was going on and on about the trolls, about how he was going to go chasing after them.  I told him it was stupid.  Then he said that I was scared, that I’d never dare to go and look for them either, especially not on my own.”  Elrohir was not sure what rankled more, the jibe about being scared, or the insinuation that he was incapable of independent action without Elladan.

Elladan shrugged.  “Well, I suppose he’s right for once.  It would be scary, and there’s no way you’d try to hunt for them on your own.  Not without me.”

Startled, Elrohir sat up again and stared at his twin.  “What do you mean?” he demanded.  “Do you think I can’t do anything on my own?  Finglor was saying that I can’t say or think anything without you around.  It’s not true!”

“I know that,”  Elladan said placatingly  “Of course you can do things without me.  But you must admit, you’d never go and do something like that alone, would you?  You just wouldn’t!”

“Stop trying to patronise me, Elladan!  I’ve a good mind to do it, just to show you and Finglor I can!  I don’t need you around me all the time!”  Elrohir glared at his brother, angrier than he had been for a long time.

Elladan laughed at him.  “Don’t be daft, El.  That’s stupid. You know you don’t mean it.  You’d be too frightened; you’d never do it.”

“I do mean it!”  Elrohir shouted.  “I will go, tonight!  On my own!  I’ll go and find these trolls that everyone’s so scared of, and see them for myself – and I don’t need you with me, either.  I’m not your shadow!”

“Fine!”  Elladan yelled back.  “Go and get yourself killed by trolls, then!  See if I care!”  He stormed out of  Elrohir’s room, back to his own, slamming the door furiously as he went.

Still infuriated, Elrohir picked up a shoe and flung it after Elladan.  It struck the closed door with a dull thud.  He glared at the door morosely.  Until a year or so ago, he and Elladan had rarely argued.  Just lately, however, their disagreements seemed to be more and more frequent.

He had heard others say that they were fortunate to be twins, to always have each other; a friend, a soul-mate.  And he knew they were right.  He loved Elladan, and always would; he had never doubted that.  There were times, though, like this, when he almost felt he hated his brother as well.  But he knew that was not really true, just as he did not believe for a second that Elladan had meant his final words.  He did care – they both did.  That was what made it so hard.  He did not ever want to hurt Elladan.  He did not want to push him away, either, but had begun to crave time to himself, the space to develop and grow independent. 

It was irritating that everyone – including Elladan – still simply saw them as a pair.  They were always called ‘Elladan and Elrohir’ or ‘the twins’.  But he wasn’t just Elladan’s twin.  He was more than that.  He was Elrohir, an individual, a person in his own right; with his own thoughts and opinions, his own interests.  He was not Elladan’s shadow, either.  And this visit to the forbidden far side of the Bruinen would be made without him.

Elrohir spent the rest of the morning avoiding Elladan.  He sat with other friends at lunch, and did not try to catch his brother’s eye.  He saw his mother casting anxious looks their way, but these quarrels were not that unusual these days.  It seemed strange, though, and he felt just a little lost.  That, however, reminded him of Finglor’s comment about not even being able to think without Elladan, and his anger rekindled.  He stabbed his knife savagely at the meat on his plate.

“Elrohir?  Elrohir!  Stop killing that, it’s dead already!”

Startled, he looked up to find that Legolas had joined him at the table.  He had not seen his friend since his explosion at breakfast.  He pushed the plate away.  “Sorry.  I was thinking about Finglor.”

Legolas shook his head in surprise. “Why did you let him bait you like that?  You don’t usually lose your temper.”

Elrohir sighed, a little self-conscious that he had allowed Finglor’s comments to affect him so.  “It was what he said about Elladan, that we never have any thoughts of our own, that we always do everything together.  It’s not true!”  He hesitated, aware that Legolas was waiting for him to say more.  “And then Elladan seemed to agree with everything Finglor had said, that I’d never go after the trolls, not without him. That I’d be too scared.  We ended up having an argument.  And Elladan said he didn’t care if I got killed by the trolls.”

“Elrohir, you know he didn’t mean that!”  Legolas protested.

“I know he didn’t mean it.  But he said it.”  Then he sighed.  “And I said I didn’t want him around all the time,” he admitted.

Legolas shook his head slowly.  “So you had an argument, and you both said things you know you don’t mean.  Does it matter?  You know you’ll be friends again by nightfall.”

Elrohir hesitated.  “Well – maybe not,” he said slowly.  At Legolas’s questioning look, he explained further.  “I decided, I’m going up to the Trollshaws tonight.  On my own.  And if I’m going to be there before dark, I’ll have to leave this afternoon.”

“You decided what??”

“You heard me.  And don’t say it, Legolas; I don’t want to know!”

Legolas told him anyway.  “Elrohir, you must be mad!”

Back in his room, Elrohir considered his expedition.  Putting the few things he thought he may need – a map, some apples, a wafer of lembas – into a small satchel, and filling a skin of water, he picked up his quiver and checked the arrows.  He strapped a long knife to the holder as well, and thrust a small, sharp dagger into his boot.  Finally ready, he straightened, wishing he felt as confident about this as he claimed.  He turned to find both Elladan and Legolas  watching him unhappily.

“El – you don’t need to go.  Not really.  I’m sorry for what I said – I didn’t mean it.  I know you’re not scared to go without me.”  Elladan swallowed.  “Please stay – it’s too dangerous for you on your own.”  He sounded miserable and worried.

Elrohir had been waiting for an apology from Elladan all day – anything; a word, a gesture, a look; something to take back the sting of his earlier words.  But strangely, now that the apology had been made, it changed nothing.  He had gone too far to back out now, too far to swallow his own pride.  He put on his cloak, swung the satchel over his shoulder, picked up his bow and arrows and was finally ready.  “I’m still going, El.  I have to.  Just – just to prove to you that I can.  And to prove it to myself.”   

Elladan was not convinced.  “Well, let me come with you, then.  Please.”

Elrohir was adamant.  “No.  Not this time.  Anyway, I need your help here.  First of all, promise me that you won’t tell mother or father where I am.”  Swearing Elladan and Legolas to secrecy, he pleaded with them to cover his absence for the evening.  “Tell them I’ve gone hunting,” he instructed.  “It will be true, anyway.  And I’ve done it before – it just wasn’t trolls I was hunting then!”

He reached the door, then turned back one last time.  “Don’t worry, El.  I’ll be careful.”

As he walked slowly – rather reluctantly – towards the Bruinen, and the borders of Imladris,  Elrohir wondered just how he had been manoeuvred into this.   Surely it had not been his idea to come out here alone?  If it had just been Finglor’s mocking, he knew he could have ignored it easily.  But when Elladan too had seemed to think his brother would not even consider an adventure like this without him, Elrohir found it intolerable.  He knew he had reacted too hastily,  his occasional impulsive streak overruling his natural caution, and also knew perfectly well that he was too stubborn to change his mind now.  It was a relief, though, that he and Elladan had not parted on bad terms, and he felt a little happier.  Legolas’s prediction that they would be friends again by nightfall had been correct.

He skirted the main paths, aiming for a part of the river well away from the ford.  There was no way he could slip past the guards there, they were far too alert.  Suddenly he stopped, listening intently.  Someone was coming after him – Elladan, no doubt, hoping to persuade him to change his mind.  Elrohir waited, ready for another confrontation, but to his surprise it was Legolas who appeared through the trees.

“Elladan and I have been talking,” Legolas announced in greeting.  “I know you want to prove that you can do this without him, but can I come?   We really don’t think you should go on your own – none of your father’s guards would, would they?  And if anything did happen, think how Elladan would feel!”

Elrohir hesitated.  If he was completely honest with himself, he did not want to go alone either.  The purpose of this was to show he could do it without his twin – so there was no real reason why Legolas should not go, and he would certainly enjoy the company.  He nodded.  “All right.  Come on, we go this way!”  

Legolas smiled.  “Wonderful!  We’ll be going home in a few days, and – and I’d love to see real trolls!  We’ve only got spiders in Lasgalen.”

Elrohir laughed, suddenly feeling more cheerful and optimistic about this expedition.  It could be fun after all.

As they made their way to the river, Legolas questioned Elrohir on their route.  “How are we going to cross?  I know we can’t use the ford – the guards would stop us – but where else is there?  I thought the Bruinen was under your father’s command – will we be able to cross?”

“Yes, of course!  The river does obey my father – if enemies try to cross, it rises in a flood and sweeps them away.  It’s apparently happened several times in the past, and once that I know about.  A band of thieves from the Ettenmoors came south one very harsh winter and tried to raid Imladris.”  Elrohir glanced at Legolas, who looked rather uncertain.  “We’ll be quite safe.  The river knows me, and if you are with me, you can cross safely as well.”

He led the way towards a high cliff lining the river bank.  At the top they stopped, and Elrohir pointed downwards.  A steep, narrow pathway led precipitously down to the water. The river was wide here, and consequently slow and shallow.  On the far side a grassy bank was overhung with trees – the eaves of the Trollshaws.  They scrambled down the path, using their hands for balance as well, and halted at the foot.

Suddenly Elrohir froze, flattening himself against the cliff, and pulling Legolas back as well.  “A patrol!” he mouthed, pointing upwards to the top of the cliff.  They waited soundlessly for an age until it was safe to move.  “Come on, this way,” Elrohir said, a little breathlessly.  He waded knee-deep into the water, and stopped halfway across, looking back at Legolas.  “Don’t worry, it’s quite safe.  Come on!”

Elrohir waited as Legolas waded cautiously into the water, smiling as he cast several anxious glances upstream as if waiting for the wrath of the Bruinen to fall on them for their trespass.  “Come on!  Or I shall leave you in mid-stream!” he threatened. 

“What would happen then?”  Legolas asked apprehensively.

“Nothing, probably.  I expect you’d be safe enough.  You’re not an enemy, after all!  Now come on.  I want to get there by sunset, not sunrise!”  They gained the far bank without incident, then Elrohir paused.  This was new, unfamiliar, forbidden territory.  They were now outside the protection and sanctuary of his father’s lands, venturing into troll country. 

They drew back into the shelter of the trees, out of sight of any more passing patrols, and Elrohir pulled the map out of the satchel.  He spread it out in front of them both.  “This is where we are,” he explained, indicating a point next to where the Bruinen was marked.  “The trolls were seen here.”  He traced his finger westward, to where an outcrop of hills were drawn.  “It’s about five miles.  We’d better hurry – it will be dark soon.”

They continued through the trees, climbing steeply away from the Bruinen before dropping down into a valley with a small, swiftly flowing stream at the bottom.  On the far side, the land rose again,  and the ground became stony and increasingly barren as outcrops of rock broke through the soil and grass.  Finally they came to a rocky plateau, hollowed at the top like a giant cup.  A small tarn nestled in the dip, and along the muddy edges they found footprints.  Troll prints.  A series of oval marks, seeming broken at one end, led across one side of the corrie towards a cleft where the land fell away to yet another valley.  There were steep cliffs here, lined with caves, and dotted with stunted trees.

Elrohir stopped, gazing around and checking his map.  “This is it,”  he said.  “This is where they were seen last night.  We could hide there,” – he indicated the trees – “and keep watch.”  They settled themselves into the branches of the trees, as in the west the setting sun painted the sky with a brilliant fiery red sunset.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the beauty of the sunset, relishing – and fearing – the solitude of the land around them.  It was somewhere they were never meant to be, where no-one would ever think to look for them.  Finally Legolas stirred.  “Elrohir?  Do you think the trolls will come tonight?” he asked softly.

Elrohir turned to look at his friend.  It was dark now, but he could see Legolas clearly, silhouetted in starlight.  “I don’t really know.  I think so – I hope so.  I don’t want to return tomorrow and have to admit we didn’t see anything!”  Then he stiffened as a slight noise caught his attention.  “What was that?”

As Legolas twisted sharply to see what had caused the bushes to rustle, Elrohir saw a rabbit scuttle out from cover.  He relaxed, then grinned as a thought came to him.  He gave a low growl, deep in his throat, and clutched at Legolas’s arm.  “What was that?” he repeated.

Legolas tensed.  “I don’t know,” he whispered.  “Was it – was it one of the trolls?”

Elrohir growled again, but the action hurt his throat, and he could not help coughing.  Legolas glared at him.  “That wasn’t funny, Elrohir!  Come here, I want to look at something.  I think something scared that rabbit.” 

They dropped to the ground, cautiously exploring the corrie again.  There was nothing new to see, and the night was quiet once more.  As Elrohir returned to the tree to watch again, he heard a low, deep growl.  He glanced at Legolas.  “There’s no need to do that – you don’t scare me!”

Even as Legolas looked up with a startled shake of his head, Elrohir realised two things.  The growl had come from behind him, high above his head – and Legolas’s expression of shocked horror was not faked.  He turned sharply, finding himself only inches away from a wall of rock that had not been there a moment ago.  He looked up – and up – and up, craning his head right back until he could see the troll’s face, peering down at him curiously.

Elrohir’s voice went dry as he whispered, “Balrog’s balls!  We found a troll.”

To Be Continued

Author’s Notes:  Many thanks to the members of the Stories of Arda Yahoo group who helped me tidy up a very short, very tricky sentence in this chapter.  Thanks, everyone!

Chapter Twenty Eight – Close Encounters

Elladan stared listlessly out of his windows as dusk fell.  A sheet of paper lay on the desk before him, nearly as blank as when he had taken it from the drawer.  He had got as far as writing the title, ‘Factors Which Led To The Fall Of Doriath’, but no further.  Lessons had been suspended for the duration of the Council and Games, but they would soon resume, and the history essay for Erestor had not even been started.   He suspected, rather sourly, that Elrohir had already finished his.  He had hoped to use the time while Elrohir and Legolas were away to catch up – but was too worried, too tense to concentrate.  It would have to wait.

Throwing down his quill with a sigh of exasperation, he stood and went out onto the balcony, gazing out at the darkness, wondering about the explorers.  Had they got as far as the Trollshaws yet?  Had they been able to cross the Bruinen without being spotted by the guards?  He hoped desperately that nothing would go wrong on this fool-hardy expedition, that nothing would happen to Elrohir – or to Legolas.  Yet the angry, unthinking words he had hurled at Elrohir kept coming back to haunt him.  ‘Fine!  Go and get yourself killed by trolls, then!  See if I care!’  He was consumed by guilt, and the fear that his taunt would tempt fate.  The fact that he had apologised did nothing to unsay the words.

Elladan half hoped that Elrohir and Legolas would be caught by a patrol – at least then they would be returned safely, if in disgrace, and his promise would not be broken.  However, he dreaded to think of the scenes that would ensue if that happened.  His parents would be furious and bitterly disappointed with Elrohir, and whatever punishment they imposed would last for weeks, affecting him as well.  He did not even dare to think about Thranduil’s reaction.

As if conjured by that thought, there was a knock at the door, and Erestor entered.  He glanced around the room.  “Elladan?    Have you seen Legolas anywhere?  King Thranduil asked me to look out for him – he has not been seen all afternoon.”

Elladan leapt guiltily to his feet.  This was the first trial – how convincing could he be?  “He went out with Elrohir.  I think – I think they were going hunting.”  Elladan held his breath, praying that Erestor did not question him further.

“Hunting?  I suppose he did not think to tell his father that!”  Erestor sighed.  “Elflings!  Very well, I will tell Thranduil myself.  Thank you, Elladan!”  With that, Erestor left again, and Elladan sank back onto his seat, feeling limp.  He had not lied, and never would, not even for Elrohir.  He had done nothing but tell the exact truth – so why did he feel so guilty?

That thought reminded Elladan of the even harder role he faced in this venture – to fend off their parents’ questions over Elrohir’s disappearance.  It would soon be time for supper, and his absence would not go unnoticed, even though the meal would be informal.  Leaving his untouched essay on the desk, he quickly washed and went down to the dining hall.  He did not feel particularly companionable, so chose a quiet end of one of the tables, picking morosely at the food before him, not in the least hungry.

“Elladan?  Why do you look so miserable?” A hand brushed the top of his head, and slid down to caress his cheek.  Startled, he looked up as his mother sat on the bench opposite, her expression concerned.  Celebrían glanced along the table, then at the other benches, and her frown deepened.  “Where is Elrohir?  And Legolas?  Are they not back yet?”

“Back?” he asked warily.

She nodded.  “Thranduil said they had gone hunting.  I did not expect them to miss supper!”  She paused, then added, “What is wrong?  I know you and Elrohir argued again this morning – are you still not talking?  Is that why you did not go with them?  What was it about this time?”

Elladan sighed.  “It wasn’t about anything, really – it never is.  El was annoyed by something Finglor had said, and I said I thought he was right.”

Celebrían moved around the table to sit next to him,  her hand on his shoulder. “And?”

“And then El said he didn’t need me around, that he wasn’t my shadow; and I told him to …”  Just in time, Elladan recalled the need to edit the argument.  “I told him I didn’t care.  It was so trivial!  It always is.  I didn’t mean it; he didn’t mean it.  And now he’s gone off hunting for the night with Legolas.”

His mother looked surprised at that piece of news.  “They have gone for the night?  Well, I suppose they cannot come to any harm – not in the valley.  They are both able to look after themselves.  But I am annoyed with Elrohir – it is unkind to treat you like this.  I shall have words with him when he comes back.”  Her sympathetic voice suddenly hardened.

Elladan looked aghast.  The last thing Elrohir and Legolas needed was Celebrían waiting up for them.  “No!  Naneth, please don’t.  I – I can deal with him myself.  Please.”

She looked at him questioningly for a moment, then nodded.  “Very well.  I will leave it to you.”  She smiled.  “Perhaps it would be a good idea to talk to your adar?   I think you will find that disagreements between twins are not that unusual.  Goodnight, my dear.”  She kissed his cheek and left.

When Elladan returned to his room, he did not prepare for bed, but instead went out again, seating himself on the stone balustrade.  He gazed up at the sky, thinking.  What were Elrohir and Legolas doing now?  Where precisely were they?  He realised that he was not sure where exactly the trolls had been seen, other than that it was somewhere in the Trollshaws – and that covered a vast area.  The wood lay north of the road and stretched from the Bruinen in the east, and ran westwards as far as the Mitheithel.  Unless the trolls had been seen very close to the eastern border, Elrohir had no hope of reaching the spot and returning by dawn.  If he and Legolas were gone for much longer than that, nothing Elladan could say or do would prevent trouble.

He sighed.  Why was Elrohir being so difficult lately?  They seemed to argue more and more frequently now, and his normally placid, easy-going twin seemed unusually touchy and sensitive these days.  Elladan did not understand what had changed, nor did he understand why Elrohir had suddenly felt the need to prove himself, why he had gone to look for the trolls in the first place.

His musing was interrupted by a sudden sharp jolt of fear.  He stood, gazing into the night, his heart pounding.  Something had happened.  Something had happened that had badly frightened Elrohir.  Elladan clenched his hands into fists, staring towards the Bruinen and beyond it, as if he could pierce the darkness and the distance by will alone.  Eventually the tension eased, and he sank down into a corner of the balcony, leaning his head against the stone, still peering westward.  He knew he would not sleep until Elrohir returned.

His fervent murmur was lost on the night breeze.  “Please be safe, El.  Please come back to me.  I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

~~**~~

Elrohir stood motionless for a moment, his eyes never leaving the troll.  Then, gathering his scattered wits, he backed away rapidly.  The troll bent lower, its head tilted slightly to one side, and he realised with incredulity that it seemed to be just as curious about him.  Behind him, he could hear Legolas’s anguished whisper.  “Elrohir, get away from it!  Move!”  Nodding, he began to edge toward Legolas, wondering if they would be any safer if they could reach the trees.

It seemed that the troll did not like its prize escaping, for it gave a low rumbling growl – totally unlike the sound Elrohir had made.  Then it moved one huge, trunk-like leg behind him, cutting off his retreat.  Elrohir froze, swallowing against the sudden sharp jolt of fear.  His heart was pounding fiercely, and he clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to remain calm as he started to sidle in the other direction.

The troll took another step, moving even closer, still grumbling like a distant thunder storm.  Its great impassive face loomed above him, and his heart nearly stopped.  A wave of foul breath wafted over him, and he tried not to breathe too deeply.   From the other side of the troll’s massive foot Elrohir could hear Legolas, frantic now.  “Elrohir!  Can you hear me?  Are you all right?”

Still not taking his gaze off it, Elrohir called back cautiously.  “Yes!  Legolas, I think it’s puzzled!  It’s looking at me!”  Then his voice trailed away as the troll grunted, and it lifted its hand.  This time a gigantic finger was extended, prodding him in the chest.  For the troll it was probably no more than a gentle nudge, but the impact knocked Elrohir off his feet, and he tumbled to the ground with a gasp.

The troll moved its hand again, about to poke at him a second time, when Legolas leapt forward, darting around the troll’s leg and glaring up at it.  “Stop it!”  he shouted.  “Leave him alone, orc-dung!”  He turned.  “Elrohir, are you hurt?”

Elrohir scrambled to his feet, as Legolas grabbed his arm and pulled him further from the troll.  He felt a little breathless, and his chest hurt.  “No.  I’m fine.  But I think we’d better get out of here!”

The troll now turned its attention to Legolas, appearing to notice for the first time that there were two elves.  It reached for him, cupping its hand around him, its fingers curling slowly. If it picked him up, it could easily crush him, even unintentionally.  Elrohir jumped towards it, wondering as he did so what he could possibly do.  His hands swept back, seized his bow and an arrow, and he fired.  The arrow lodged in the back of the troll’s hand, causing no more harm than a pin-prick, but making it stare at its hand.  Then it turned back to Elrohir again and roared.  Before he could move, it snatched the bow from his hands and snapped it in two.  He gave a cry of dismay and turned to flee.

Legolas, now released, bolted towards the safety of the trees with Elrohir hot on his heels.  They dodged and weaved between the trunks, hearing a roar of protest behind them.   Pausing briefly, they looked back at the troll, and Legolas gasped.  “Elrohir, I think your friend is only young.  Look!”

Elrohir looked, and saw the troll that had appeared so interested him peering at them forlornly.  A much larger troll, surely a parent, was leading it across the dell by the hand.

Without pausing any longer, they fled back up the valley, across the plateau and down again.  Finally halting in the shelter of a small copse they collapsed to the ground, panting.

“Are you all right?”  they asked, simultaneously.  Elrohir laughed.  “We sound like El and me,” he explained.  He lay on the grass as he caught his breath, then twisted around again to look behind them, as Legolas was doing.  “Is there any sign of them?” he asked tensely.

Legolas shook his head.  “No.  I can’t see them.  I don’t think they actually chased us.”

“No.  The little one seemed curious.  I think it wondered what we were – perhaps it’s never seen elves before!”   Then Elrohir’s face fell.  “My bow.  It broke my bow!  How am I going to explain that?”  He sighed.  “I suppose I’ll just have to borrow one from the armoury and hope no-one notices.  Why did it do that?”

“Because you shot an arrow into its hand,”  Legolas pointed out.  “But I’m glad you did – I think it was going to grab me!  I’m sorry about your bow, though.”  He looked sympathetic for a moment, then suddenly gave a strange, secretive smile.

With a groan, Elrohir stood.  “Come on.  We’d better go home.  It will be dawn soon.”  Walking quickly now, they crossed the stream at the foot of the valley again, before climbing a steep ridge.  From the top they could look down into the valley of the Bruinen, the river glinting darkly in the night.  Ahead, they could see the trees of Imladris, and a very dim light glimmering faintly in the distance.  It meant that someone was still awake in the house, and Elrohir prayed it was not his parents, waiting to demand an explanation for his behaviour.

Beside him, Legolas stretched.  “We’re nearly there now.  Do you think Elladan has kept our secret?” He sounded a little apprehensive.

“He’ll have done his best,”  Elrohir reassured him.  “It depends what questions people asked.  He won’t have lied, but if he was able to stick to the hunting story we should be safe.  Come on – I’ll race you down the hill!  Who’ll be first across the river?”

~~**~~

They took off, running and stumbling down the slope, relieved at their narrow escape, thankful to be nearly home.   Legolas found himself gradually lagging behind as Elrohir, slightly taller, slightly longer-legged, slightly faster, covered the ground more swiftly.  But  as they neared the river, Elrohir slowed, limping a little, and stopped to remove the dagger he had thrust into his boot the previous afternoon.  In seconds Legolas passed him with a jaunty wave.  “See you back at Imladris, Elrohir!”

He ran down the bank, and splashed into the water.  The stones on the riverbed were loose, slick with moss and weed, and he slipped once or twice.   He slowed, picking his way across carefully.  For some reason he could not seem to get his balance; the stones kept moving oddly beneath his feet. Then he fell again, full-length in the icy water, his mouth and nose blocked.  He picked himself up again as the riverbed shifted once more under him, coughing and shaking water out of his ears in an attempt to clear the peculiar roaring, rushing sound he could hear.    The noise did not abate, but seemed to grow even louder, and he heard a startled oath from Elrohir, still on the bank.

Looking up, Legolas saw a wall of water looming out of the darkness and bearing down on him: two, five, ten feet high, increasing in speed and ferocity as it neared him.  He froze in midstream, staring in disbelief at the great wave of destruction racing towards him. 

To Be Continued

Chapter Twenty Nine – The River Wild

Imladris was dimly lit by glimmering starlight, and all seemed peaceful when Elrond awoke suddenly.  He was tense, aware that there was something amiss in his realm.  The river.  The Bruinen had risen in anger – some threat approached Imladris.  Carefully removing the arm that was draped across Celebrían, he turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts groping for the cause.  Normally, the river would only rouse against those who approached with evil intent.  There were times, however, when other dangers threatened – not necessarily evil, but dangers nonetheless.  Packs of wolves, or the occasional bear, would be driven by hunger from the bleak and barren Ettenmoors or Coldfells, and sometimes attempt to seek easier prey in the tranquil valley.  Then, Elrond would increase the mantle of his protection around the vale, so that none but those who belonged could enter. 

He had done the same now.  The report he had received had stated that the trolls had been seen very close to the eastern side of the Trollshaws.  From there, it would be simple matter for them to ford the Bruinen to Imladris, a potential risk he was not prepared to take – especially since he had learned that Elrohir and Legolas were spending the night roaming the woods, hunting.  He had instructed the night patrols to keep a discreet eye on the pair.

So, at sunset, as the stars appeared, he had used his powers and control over the river to protect his realm from all, effectively sealing the valley from the outside world.  Only visitors who crossed the ford accompanied by the guards would be permitted access – all others would face the wrath of the river.

And something, it seemed, had done just that.  He could sense the pent up fury of the waters, about to sweep away whatever creature trespassed in its path.  Rising from the bed, he crossed silently to the windows.  As he did so, he felt the tension in him drain away, flowing out of him even as the river began to flow again, and he let out a long breath of release.  Behind him, Celebrían stirred.

“What is it?” she asked sleepily.  “Is something wrong?”

“The river,” he explained briefly.  “Something awakened it.  I feel the danger has passed, though – it must have been swept away on the flood.  The water has subsided once more.  Imladris is safe again.”  He moved back to the bed, leaning down to kiss her gently.  “Go back to sleep, my love.”

Celebrían relaxed into sleep again, but Elrond was wakeful now.  It was near dawn, so he put a light robe over his sleeping tunic, intending to spend a little time in his library before the rest of the household roused.  Next to their own room he passed Arwen’s, and silently opened the door to look in.  She lay with her back to him, a spill of dark hair spread across the pillow, deep in slumber.  Closing the door softly, he moved on.   The twins’ rooms were in another corridor which branched off, and he came to Elrohir’s first.  He knew it was empty, and passed by.  A second door led to his sons’ sitting room, and Elladan’s chamber lay at the far end of the hallway.  Again opening the door quietly, he was startled to see Elladan’s bed empty, unslept in.  He could sense his son’s sleeping presence nearby, though, and stepped out onto the balcony. 

Elladan was huddled in one corner, his head pillowed on his arms, facing the path that led down the valley.  He had presumably fallen asleep while watching for his brother’s return.  Elrond was about to wake him, for the pre-dawn air was cool, but then he went back to the bedroom, returning with a warm blanket.  Carefully he placed it around Elladan, draping it over him so gently his son did not stir.  He knew about the disagreement earlier that day, and knew about the heartache it could cause.  Elladan, regretting their harsh words, would be missing his twin more than normal. Leaving Elladan to his lonely vigil, Elrond returned through the room, blowing out the candle that had been left burning.

The rest of the house was silent, and deserted save for the guard on the main doors.  On reaching the library, however, he found to his surprise that it was occupied.  Thranduil was already there, reading in a chair by the fire.  It had gone out, but a faint glow of warmth could still be felt.  He looked up, seeming unsurprised to see Elrond.

Elrond joined him by the hearth.  “You could not sleep either?”

Thranduil shook his head.  “I awoke a short while ago.  I felt uneasy about Legolas, and this ill-advised excursion our sons have gone on.  I fear something has happened to him – there is something amiss.”

Elrond nodded.  “Yes.  And there is more – something tried to cross the river a few minutes ago.”

Thranduil stiffened.  “Can you tell what?”

“No.  Only that the river rose up, and is now calm again.  The trolls, perhaps.”  Elrond poured them both a cup of wine from the table by the fire, raising his in a silent gesture.  “I asked the guards to look out for them while they are on patrol, to ensure they cannot come to any harm.  Let me see if there is any word yet.”

Leaving Thranduil, he spoke softly to the guards at the door, before sending one of them out into the pale dawn.  Returning, he frowned slightly.  “None of the patrols have seen them.  I have asked that when they are sighted, the guards send them straight here.  There is something about this expedition I am not happy about.” 

A fleeting movement by the door caught his eye, and he turned.  “Elladan?  Elladan!   Would you come in here, please?”

Looking slightly furtive, and still rather sleep-fogged, Elladan came into the library.  He was fully dressed now, with the exception of his shoes, which he carried in one hand.  “Father?  Why are you up?”  He caught sight of Thranduil then, and inclined his head.  “My lord.”

Elrond eyed him sympathetically.  “I might ask you the same question.  Are you worried about Elrohir?”

Elladan hesitated briefly, but then nodded.  “Yes.  He’s not back yet.”

“I must admit, I am a little concerned – the guards have not seen them, so I do not know where in the valley they went.  But you know as well as I do that little harm can come to them here.  The river will see to that.”

Elladan looked up sharply at that, looking a little pale.  “The river?” he repeated anxiously.

Elrond nodded.  “You know the protection it gives us all.  Nothing can cross now – I have seen to that.”

“Nothing?”

“No.  Something tried to enter the river earlier – a troll perhaps – but it will have stood no chance against the flood.”  Elrond moved closer to Elladan, and gave him a brief, reassuring hug.  “Nothing can get into the valley,” he repeated, to reassure his son, who looked if anything, even more worried.

Elladan now looked thoroughly miserable.  “But El –”  he stopped.

“Elrohir and Legolas will be quite safe!”  Elrond emphasised.  He glanced at Thranduil.  “At least, they will be until they return home.  They have both been totally irresponsible in their actions – I think we both intend to impress that on them,” he added grimly.

o-o-o

“Come on – I’ll race you down the hill!  Who’ll be first across the river?”  Even as he spoke, Elrohir jumped forward, ahead of Legolas, bounding in great leaps down the slope.  They were both laughing, calling amiable insults to one another as they ran headlong towards the river.  Yet as he raced down the steep valley towards the Bruinen, the dagger concealed in his boot began to work loose, digging into his ankle painfully.  Limping, he slowed and stopped, pulling the dagger free.  The sharp point had broken the skin slightly, but it was a minor cut.  Thrusting the dagger into his belt instead, he ran on.  The delay had cost him, though, and Legolas had overtaken him, and was now nearly at the water’s edge.  Elrohir slowed, walking down the final slope, and he watched Legolas race into the river, water splashing all around him, not realising he had already won their race.

Yet something seemed odd.  Legolas, normally as sure-footed as any other elf, slipped and slid as if he was on ice, unable to find his balance.  Then he fell, disappearing momentarily beneath the water.  Elrohir began to laugh, but then stopped abruptly.  His senses told him that something was badly wrong. Legolas, dripping, stood again, but then missed his footing once more.  “Legolas?” he called.  “What is it?”  There was a low roar on the edge of his hearing; like, yet totally unlike the sound the troll had made.  He listened for a moment, not quite believing what he could hear. But the sound intensified, growing ever louder and fiercer, roaring and rushing towards him. Glancing upstream, he saw through the darkness a mighty wave approaching, a wave that seemed to have formed itself in seconds, and was growing in size and strength even as he watched, thundering cataclysmically towards them.

The river had roused, and for some reason perceived Legolas as an enemy.

Cursing, Elrohir raced down the bank to the water’s edge, shouting a desperate warning.  “Legolas, come back!  Now!  Get out of the water – move!”  Without pausing to see if his friend could obey, he plunged into the stream, ankle-deep, thigh-deep, and reached for Legolas, who was still trying desperately to regain his footing. 

Even as they made contact, Legolas fell again, losing his grip and being washed further from Elrohir.  Elrohir waded further towards the centre of the stream, and then turned, positioning himself between Legolas and the approaching torrent. 

The sight terrified him.  He had witnessed the power of the Bruinen once before, a few years previously, when it had flooded following days of torrential rain.  Then, trees had been uprooted and washed downstream, along with massive rocks and boulders.  Part of the ford had been destroyed, and several footbridges along the Harduin, which bordered Imladris to the south, washed away.

Elrohir faced upstream, acting now purely on instinct, one hand thrust out before him in a commanding gesture.  “Hear me, waters of the Bruinen!” he shouted.  “I am my father’s son.  Listen to me!”  He flung a swift glance over his shoulder to Legolas, still floundering in the water.  “Keep still!” he hissed.  He turned back to the river, and raised his voice again.  “I am Elrohir Elrondion.  I beg that you will grant us safe passage, oh mighty waters!  Here is a friend to Imladris, Legolas Thranduilion of Lasgalen.  He is under my protection.  Allow him to cross safely, I beseech you!”

For a long, breathless moment, nothing seemed to happen.  Elrohir waited, his heart pounding.  The water around them was already deepening as the wave neared, and he could feel the tug and pull of the undertow swirling about his legs.  He wondered fleetingly if there was still time for him to try again to drag Legolas to safety, and glanced at the eastern bank on his right.  Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the towering torrent of water subsided gently, dissipating into small, foaming wavelets which ran bubbling gently past them, the water level only a little deeper and swifter than normal.

Elrohir extended his hand to Legolas, hauling him to his feet easily now, and together they waded in silence to the bank before turning to gaze at the river, now running serenely over stones and pebbles as it always did.  Legolas stopped on the narrow strip of sand before the cliff, wringing water out of his clothes and hair.  Then he stared at Elrohir, his eyes wide with awe.

“I didn’t know you could do that!” he said in wonder.  “Thank you.  Elrohir, that was amazing!”

Elrohir, searching among the shrubs and flowering vines that grew luxuriantly along the water’s edge, did not respond immediately.  He did not initially trust his voice.  Finally he found a large, creamy-white blossom, the petals flecked with orange specks near the centre.  Picking it very carefully, he cast it into the water with a bow.  “You have my thanks, oh Bruinen,” he told the river, his voice now steady.  Then he glanced at Legolas.  “I didn’t know I could do that either,” he admitted. 

He did not speak again until they had scaled the steep path, still on the lookout for passing patrols.   Then they made their way back along the twisting trails towards Imladris, soaked, cold, and weary.

“Elrohir?”  Legolas asked at last, after they had walked for some time in silence.  “Why did the river rise up then?  Why did it think I was an enemy?”

Elrohir had been considering the events, and their consequences.  He sighed.  “We were safe when we crossed before because we were together.  Coming back, you went into the water first.”  He looked at Legolas, his eyes shadowed.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t think it would react like that.  I should have stopped you.”

Legolas dismissed that.  “But why did it react then?  It didn’t last time, when we went swimming before the games.  I was in the water on my own for quite a long time!” he added dryly.

“I think my father must have increased the protection it gives – perhaps because of the trolls.  Because we were coming from the Trollshaws, the spirit of the river must have thought you were a threat.”  Elrohir sighed again.  “And there’s one more thing.  My father will have felt it immediately when the river was roused.  He’ll know something is wrong.”

He fell silent again, deep in thought.  He was beginning to realise the utter stupidity of his quest, the true risk he had taken, and just what could have gone wrong.  Even the young troll that had been so fascinated by elves could easily have killed or seriously injured them, as thoughtlessly as others might swat a wasp.  While Elladan and his parents – and Thranduil – would have known that something had happened, he knew that he and Legolas may not have been found for days.  The Bruinen was another danger; one he had never even considered.   Elrohir knew that his own actions that night had been foolish enough – but to allow Legolas to come as well had been sheer lunacy.  If anything had happened to the younger elf, Elrohir would never have forgiven himself – to say nothing of the blame that Thranduil, or his own parents would have placed on him.

The night was fading into the grey light of dawn as they drew near the house.  Birds began their song to greet the new day, and in the distance Elrohir could hear the soft snort and stamping of horses from the stables.  Then another sound was added to the morning; the slight rustle of leaves as first one, then two elven warriors dropped from the trees onto the path before them.

“So there you are, younglings!” the first greeted them.  “The night patrols have been asked to look out for you – I believe your lord fathers would like a word with you both.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Thirty – Consequences

As soon as he could, Elladan made his excuses and left.  Neither his father nor Thranduil seemed to notice, both preoccupied over Elrohir and Legolas.  Elladan could understand that.  He could not ignore a vague, nagging unease that had haunted him all night.  With the dawn, he had hoped that Elrohir and Legolas would return, safe and sound, full of tales of their adventures.

His father’s words, clearly intended to reassure him, had done anything but.  ‘Nothing can get into the valley’.  ‘Something tried to enter the river … it will have stood no chance against the flood.’  The reassurances made him feel sick.  Elrohir had tried to get into the valley – and now, he had either been swept away on the flood waters, or at best was stranded on the far side of the river, in the Trollshaws, at the mercy of whatever dangers lurked there. 

He had tried to slip out of the house earlier, but had been caught.  Now he hurried down to the river, desperate to find some trace of what may have happened to Elrohir.  He knew where his twin would have tried to cross the river, so headed away from the ford, north, to the steep path they had discovered some years before.  As he went he tried again to feel for his brother.  It was a sense he still did not understand, but was beginning to accept existed.  Then he smiled.  Elrohir was safe.  He was worried and preoccupied – probably realising they were all in a lot of trouble – but he was safe.  And as he was merely worried, not frantic with fear, Legolas was obviously safe too.

Elladan sighed with relief, and hurried on his way.  Suddenly, without warning, a guard emerged from the trees in front of him.  “Lord …Elladan?  Your father has instructed us to watch the valley.  Would you return to the house, please?”

Elladan was about to respond furiously that no one had the right to restrict his movements in his own home when he bit his tongue.  He simply nodded, turning and retracing his steps, and as soon as he was out of sight of the guard veered off into the trees, on a route that passed close to the stables.  Ahead, he heard voices.  Other guards appeared – they seemed to be everywhere today, like vermin!  “So there you are, younglings!” he heard.  “The night patrols have been asked to look out for you – I believe your lord fathers would like a word with you both.”

He stayed out of sight, waited, and watched.  Elrohir replied to the guard.  “Thank you, Ilmarin,” he said coolly.  “My father is in the library?  We will go there now.  Carry on with your patrol.”  Elladan suppressed a grin.  Elrohir very rarely played on his position of Elrond’s son – neither of them did – but when he did, he did it well.

The guard straightened and saluted.  “Yes, Lord Elrohir,” he responded, in a very different tone to the one he had used before.  Elladan waited until the two guards had continued on their patrol, then stepped from concealment just as Elrohir turned towards him.

“I knew you were there, El.  Did you come to look for us?”

Elladan nodded, hesitated for a second then gave his twin a brief hug.  “Yes.  I was worried about you.”  All the tension and worry of the night caught up with him, and he hugged Elrohir more tightly.  “I’m sorry about what I said.  I didn’t mean to drive you into doing something so dangerous.  I know something happened; I could feel how scared you were earlier.  And then father said that he had commanded the river, and that it had flooded.  I was so afraid that you would be trapped, El!”  He felt overwhelming relief to see his brother and Legolas safe and sound at last.  The problem they all faced with their parents could be dealt with later.

Elrohir returned the embrace, then they began to walk towards the house.  “I’m sorry too, El.  It was a stupid argument.  No-one cares what Finglor thinks – I don’t know why I let him annoy me.”  He looked a little sheepish.  “And although I said I wanted to go without you, all the time we were over there I kept wishing you were as well.  It seemed so – strange.”

Legolas watched them both with a grin.  “Well, I’m glad you’ve made friends again at last!  And I can’t tell you how pleased I am to be back here.  Elladan, so much has happened – we’ve got so much to tell you!”  His face fell, and he sighed.  “But my father’s going to kill me now.  I think we were better off with that troll!”

Elladan stopped dead, staring at them both.  “Troll?”  he repeated.  “You mean there really was a troll?  You saw one?” 

His brother ginned.  “No.  We saw two.  El, it was amazing!  It was as tall as – as that tree there, and as close to me as you are.  It was looking at me!  It was curious – it had never seen anything like us before, I think.”

“When was that?  Around midnight?”  Elladan asked.  He recalled the sudden jolt of fear he had felt from Elrohir.  “I know there was something that scared you badly.”  Legolas looked at him in surprise, but then he shrugged, evidently accepting it as one of the twins’ oddities.

Elrohir nodded.  “Yes. I was moving, to get away from it, when it put its foot down behind me, between me and Legolas.  I thought it was going to step on us!  You’re right, I was scared.  And then it put its hand around Legolas – I don’t know what it was going to do to him, but it could have killed him.  So I shot it in the hand, and it let him go.”

Elladan listened to his brother’s incredible adventures in disbelief.  “What did you do then?”

“We ran,”  Legolas told him.  “As fast as we could.  It was angry – it didn’t like being shot in the hand!  But when we looked back, we realised that it was only a little troll, a sort of toddler.  It was with its Nana!”

“But – trolls don’t have babies!  Do they?”  Elladan’s firm denial changed to an awed question.

Elrohir stopped as they came to the steps that led into the house.  “This one did.”  He looked towards the library windows.  “Adar is going to kill me,” he sighed.  “He’ll tell me it was stupid, and reckless; that I should have known better. And he’s right.  Come on.”  Dejectedly, he led the way into the house.

o-o-o

Tentatively, Elrohir knock at the door to the library and opened it.  His father stood there, and Thranduil.  Both looked extremely grim.  Elrohir glanced over his shoulder at Elladan and Legolas, swallowed, then went in first.  This whole idea – somehow – had been his, and it was his responsibility to face his father’s wrath.

Elrond said nothing initially, merely regarding him coldly.  Elrohir’s heart sank, and his gaze dropped to the floor.  The silence extended, and the only sound Elrohir could hear was his own heartbeat.  At last, his father spoke.  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?  What did you think you were doing?  An expedition like this was totally irresponsible, Elrohir!  You told no-one where you were going, what you were doing, that you would be out all night.  Your behaviour was foolish and reckless, and I expected more of you.”

Elrohir said nothing and continued to stare at the floor.  There was nothing he could say in his defence – every word his father spoke was true.  “You are intelligent, Elrohir.  You can understand the consequences of your actions.  Did you stop to think about what could happen, tonight of all nights?  Did you not think of the dangers?  To risk yourself was bad enough, but to take Legolas with you on this ill-advised excursion was utter folly!”  Elrond paused, just for a moment, then concluded, “I am most disappointed in you.”

Elrohir swallowed hard at the final words.  He could weather his father’s anger, although he hated it, but his disappointment was almost impossible to bear.  “Forgive me,” he said, very quietly.  “I – I do not really know why I did it now.”  He looked up at last, meeting Elrond’s eyes for the first time.  “I’m sorry, father.  It was foolish.”  Then he looked at Thranduil.  “Forgive me, your majesty.  I was wrong to let Legolas come with me.”

Elrond regarded him for a moment longer, but Elrohir was surprised to see something that looked like sympathy in his expression.  “I imagine it is somehow connected to your argument with Elladan.  I will talk to you both about that later.  Thranduil?”  Elrohir realised he was dismissed for the moment, but he felt no sense of relief. 

Thranduil regarded him silently for a moment, then turned his attention to his own son.  Legolas stepped forward, and before Thranduil could say anything, he burst out, “Please Father – Lord Elrond – it’s not Elrohir’s fault.  He didn’t ‘let’ me come, or take me with him.  I went – it was my own idea.”

“Elrohir’s culpability or lack of it is not what concerns me.  Your disobedience is.  However, I have little to say that has not already been said.  This was foolish, and dangerous, and you have let me down.”  Thranduil’s expression was very stern, and Elrohir felt sorry for Legolas, who looked stricken.  Then, in a gesture that surprised him, Thranduil stroked Legolas’s head softly.  “It would grieve me if anything happened to you,” he said gently.

Legolas nodded.  “I’m sorry, Ada – we both are,” he added with a glance at Elrohir, and hugged his father tightly.  Before he realised it, Elrohir too was hugging his father, feeling the balm of his love despite his displeasure.

“Go, all of you,” Elrond commanded.  “I will consider a suitable punishment.  Rest assured, there will be one.”

With a nod, Elrohir followed Elladan and Legolas outside again.  All three were rather subdued.  Then Elladan looked at his brother.  “Nothing was said about the Trollshaws,” he pointed out.  “Do you think no-one realises you went there?  Adar must still think you were in the valley the whole time!”

“Mmm.”  Elrohir found he did not really care anymore.  He was just glad that they had got back in one piece.

o-o-o

Elrond watched the three depart, their high spirits very much quenched for the moment.  He turned to Thranduil.  “What do we do with them?” he enquired.  “They have been irresponsible, but have not exactly broken any rules.  I usually favour imposing some dirty, unpleasant task.”

Thranduil considered.  “Cleaning out the stables?” he suggested.  “It is an occupation Legolas hates with a passion – he is rather fastidious.”

Elrond shook his head.  “It would be no punishment at all for Elrohir – he delights in spending time with the horses.  He spends much of his free time helping the grooms.  Translating manuscripts in the library would also not work – he enjoys the work too much.”  He considered.  “I have it!  Scullery duty.  They can prepare the vegetables for the feast tonight.”

Thranduil nodded.  “An excellent idea.  And perhaps scouring the pots and pans as well?  It would be a great shame if they were to miss the feast as a result of their labours, would it not?”

“A great shame.  Elladan can join them, I think.  He is guilty by omission – he clearly knew what they were up to, but chose not to speak.  Yes, he can miss the feast as well.”  Elrond considered his sons’ reaction to the news.  They would be bitterly disappointed to miss the farewell feast before Thranduil left, but would make not one word of protest.  “I have been to war,”  he mused.  “I have raised twins.  If I had a choice, I would rather go to war again,” he concluded.

To Be Continued

Author’s Notes:  Elrond’s closing remark was supposedly said by George Bush.  I’m making no political point by using it, I just though it was perfect for Elrond!

Chapter Thirty-One –  Confession

It was the evening of the great feast to bid farewell to Thranduil, Legolas, and the guests from Lasgalen.  As he prepared for the evening, Elrohir could hear in the distance the strains of music as the minstrels rehearsed their songs and ballads for the feast.  There were flutes and harps, drums, and a lyre.  There was also a beautifully delicate bell-like sound, from an instrument he did not recognise.  All around there was an atmosphere of excitement as elves prepared for the evening, dressing in their finery, talking and laughing.  There would be good food, expertly seasoned, flavoured and presented; the best wines from the most reputable vineyards and their most prized vintages; music, song, and dance.  With a sigh of frustration, Elrohir threw the carrot he had been scraping into the pot, and reached for another.

The punishment Elrond had imposed was fiendish.  Not only had they all been sentenced to washing mud and earth from the freshly collected vegetables, and scraping, peeling, shelling or slicing them as required – no, there was more.  The great cooking pots and roasting pans were to be scoured until gleaming, then the plates and glasses washed sparkling clean when they were returned from the great hall.  By the time that was all done, the meal would be over.  So would many of the songs and dances, and probably the ballad that Lindir had composed specially for the occasion.  Worst of all was the knowledge that this was entirely his own fault, and that he had caused Elladan and Legolas to be sentenced alongside him.  They would all miss the feast, the music and the merriment.

He watched Elladan from the corner of his eye as his brother brushed a strand of hair away with a grubby hand, leaving a smear of mud on his face.  “I’m sorry, El,” he said for the third time.  “And you, Legolas.  Sorry that I dragged you both into this.  And sorry that you’ll miss the feast.”

Elladan shook his head.  “Don’t be.  I told you before, I shouldn’t have goaded you like that.  And I knew what you were going to do; I could have stopped you.”

“It’s not all your fault, Elrohir,”  Legolas agreed.  “It was my choice to go with you – we didn’t think you should go alone; but I didn’t have to.  It didn’t stop us  finding trouble, did it?”

“Trouble found us – twice,”  Elrohir remembered.  “The trolls and the river were bad enough, but when I found out that Father knew, that was even worse!”

“But he doesn’t know, does he?”  Elladan pointed out.  “He still thinks you were in the valley.  If he ever finds out that you crossed the river …!”

Elrohir moaned.  “Don’t.  I hate this.  I hate deceiving him, letting him think we were here.  Perhaps it would be better to tell him what really happened?”  He dreaded the prospect, nearly as much as he hated the deception.  But he felt he could not continue like this.

“Don’t do that!”  Elladan and Legolas both told him at once.

“Don’t, El – it’s not worth it,”  Elladan continued.  “Just leave it.  Let all this die down; it will soon.”

Legolas nodded.  “He’s right.  Cleaning and peeling vegetables is one thing, but if there’s any more trouble I’ll be cleaning out the stables for a month when we get home!  I hate that!”

“What’s wrong with the stables?”  Elrohir asked in surprise.  “I often used to have to do it!”

“Yes, until Father realised how much you enjoyed working with the horses!”  Elladan recalled with a laugh.  He finished scraping the last carrot, and put down his knife, looking around with a sigh.  “Have we finished?”

The kitchen overseer, who had been put in charge of them, appeared.  “Not yet, young ones!”  he told them cheerfully.  “The roasting pans are next.  Over here!”

The succulent smell of roasted meat made Elrohir’s stomach rumble, and he cursed his stupidity again.  With a sigh, he set to work on the greasy, encrusted pans.

By the time they had finally scoured the last pots and pans, it was late.  The sound of laughter, conversation and music came from the great hall, and the clink of plates and glasses as all enjoyed good food and wine.  Under the overseer’s watchful eye, they dried the pans and put everything back in its rightful place.  “Well done, young ones!”  he told them.  “I am most impressed. You have worked hard, all of you, without a word of complaint.  I have something for you.”  He guided them to a table tucked into a corner of the kitchen and disappeared. 

One end of the table was set with three places.  Candles flickered, reflecting off the glass of a decanter of wine.  The overseer reappeared, balancing several heaped platters in his hands, and deftly set them down.  “Sit, sit!”  he ordered.  “You may miss the feast, but there is no need to go hungry.  Sit down!”  He smiled at their looks of surprise.  “There seems to be a certain sympathy for your plight,” he explained.  “When I saw your industriousness this evening, I decided you deserved some reward.  Then I had three separate reports from the servants in the great hall – messages from Lord Elrond, Lady Celebrían, and King Thranduil.  They all requested that you should not miss out entirely.”  He indicated the serving platters.  “Help yourselves.”

He vanished again, and they were alone.  Elrohir and Elladan looked at one another in silent amazement, while Legolas seized the decanter of wine and poured three glasses.  He sniffed and tasted the wine, then smiled.  “Dorwinion 129,” he decided. “A good vintage.”

Elrohir laughed, and glanced at Elladan.  “An excellent year,” he confirmed.  “Wouldn’t you agree, El?”

“The very best!”  Elladan raised his glass.  “Legolas, your visit here has been – eventful.  I hope that your return home will be quieter.”

After an excellent meal – tender beef, succulent venison, vegetables; juices mopped up with fresh bread and the whole washed down with a very fine wine – the remaining tasks of washing plates and glasses seemed far less onerous.  As Legolas dried the final glass and placed it carefully on the rack, the overseer smiled.  “Well done, young lords.  You have been a credit to yourselves.  It has been a pleasure to have you in my kitchens – though I am aware that you may not agree.  Thank you for your work tonight.”

As they left the kitchens, Elladan shrugged.  “I have never been thanked for completing a punishment before, have you?  Come on – there will still be singing in the Hall of Fire. We won’t miss everything.”

Elrohir yawned and shook his head.  “Not me.  I’m too tired.  Legolas?”

Legolas hesitated.  “I feel tired too, but this is my last night here – we leave before noon.  I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.  Goodnight, El.  See you in the morning.”  With another yawn, Elrohir headed for the stairs.  With no sleep at all the previous night, and a busy day behind him, he looked forward to his bed.  There had been many duties and tasks to do, and pleading tiredness due to lack of sleep to escape them would not have been advisable.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, Glorfindel and Erestor came own, talking quietly.  Elrohir stopped suddenly.  Why had he not considered talking to Glorfindel before?  He could be a hard taskmaster on the training field, but when approached as a friend and confidante, would never betray a secret.  He seized his opportunity.  “Glorfindel?  Could I talk to you?  Now?”

Without displaying the slightest flicker of surprise, Glorfindel smiled at him.  “Of course you may.  Erestor, I will talk to you later.”  They waited until the councillor left, then Glorfindel turned to Elrohir again.  “What is this about?  It sounds serious.”

Elrohir nodded.  “It is.  Glorfindel, can we go somewhere where we will not be disturbed?  Your rooms?”

Without speaking, Glorfindel merely nodded, and gestured for Elrohir to go before him.  Entering his rooms, he lit  candles, closed the door, then turned to Elrohir.  “Well?”

Elrohir began to pace the room restlessly, then sat in a chair by the fireplace when Glorfindel pushed him towards it.  “It’s about last night,” he began.

Glorfindel nodded.  “I heard about that – I wondered why you were not at the feast tonight.  Roaming the valley at night – it was foolish behaviour.”  Then he looked sharply at Elrohir and frowned.  “There is more to this.  Is it something I should promise not to reveal to your parents?”

Elrohir hesitated, tempted by the offer, then shook his head.  “No.  I need to talk to you, but you may feel that you should tell them about this.  It’s up to you.  Glorfindel – Legolas and I weren’t in the valley last night.  We crossed the river, and went to the Trollshaws.”

“You did what?  Elrohir, you little fool!  Did you decide to see for yourself if the reports were true?  They were!  You could have been killed if the trolls had found you!”  Glorfindel had turned pale, and slammed his hand against the arm of his chair in emphasis.

Elrohir nodded miserably.  “I know.  I hadn’t realised how big they are – or how strong.  When it pushed me – I hadn’t realised how strong they are; how easily it could have killed us.  And it was only a little one.”

“Elrohir, what are you talking about? ‘When it pushed you’ – ‘it was only a little one’ – what do you mean?”  Glorfindel looked astounded and bewildered.  “Do you mean you actually saw a troll?”

With a sigh, Elrohir launched into an explanation of the previous night’s events – the young troll, its curiosity, their flight; and the terrifying moment when the Bruinen had risen against Legolas.  He stopped, still awe-struck by what had happened.  “Glorfindel, I’ve never seen the river like that.  I know it protects the valley, and prevents intruders from entering – but I saw it rise up, a great wave appearing out of nowhere.”  He shivered.  “I was scared.   I didn’t know what to do – I thought Legolas would be swept away and drowned.  And I saw myself trying to explain to Father, and King Thranduil, what had happened.”  He stopped again.

“I knew the river had risen.  I did not know that you and Legolas were the cause!  So what happened then?”  Despite his clear anger and shock, Glorfindel spoke gently.

Hesitantly, Elrohir continued.  “I couldn’t just stand and watch, so I ran into the water – I think I was going to try to pull him out.  But he kept falling; he couldn’t stand up, and the river kept washing him further away from me when I tried to grab him.”

He stopped speaking, and Glorfindel rose from his chair, moving to kneel next to Elrohir.  “And?” he asked quietly.

“There was only one thing I could think of.  I told the river who I was, who Legolas was; and that he was a friend, not a threat to Imladris.  Glorfindel, I commanded the river – and it obeyed me!”  Elrohir paused in wonder as he recalled the moment.  “I didn’t know I could do that.  Then the water just dropped away, and we could cross normally.”

Glorfindel regarded Elrohir with astonishment.  Then he smiled.  “You have clearly inherited some of your father’s power.  He would be proud of you, I think.”

“Proud?”  Elrohir echoed incredulously.  “Glorfindel, I disobeyed him by crossing the Bruinen, and very nearly got us both killed – twice!  I don’t think ‘proud’ is going to describe his reaction when he finds out!”

“Although you were frightened, you tried to save Legolas,”  Glorfindel pointed out.  “You did not run away, but into the river, into the path of danger.  You did not panic, and by remembering your heritage did the only thing that could have saved either of you.  You acted very courageously.  Yes, he would be proud – as I am.”

Elrohir said nothing, but simply stared at Glorfindel in surprise.  He had had to tell someone about his idiotic venture, and knew that Glorfindel’s fury and disappointment  would be easier to bear than his father’s.  This was not the reaction he had expected at all.  “But – when he finds out about the Trollshaws …”  he began stumblingly.

“Perhaps this is something he does not need to know about?  You have told me.  You have already been punished by missing the feast.  Will you give me your word that you will not do this again?”

Still startled into incoherence, Elrohir nodded.  “Yes, of course I will.  Of course I won’t.  Oh – I mean …”

This time, Glorfindel laughed.  “I know what you mean, elfling.  Then let the matter end here.  You see only too clearly now the danger, and have learned from this.  Go to bed – you look more than a little tired.”

As Elrohir stood, he yawned again, then suddenly hugged Glorfindel tightly, as he had not done for many years.  “Thank you,” he whispered.  “Goodnight.”

He left Glorfindel’s room and walked tiredly to his own.  Music and laughter from downstairs drifted up, but he ignored it.  Undressing, he washed haphazardly, and lay down with a weary sigh.  He fell asleep gazing at the stars visible through his window.

To Be Continued

Chapter Thirty-Two – Homeward Bound II

Legolas awoke to the sound of birdsong, the feel of a soft breeze, and sunlight on his face.  He lay still for a moment, thinking about the previous evening; not quite ready to get up yet – although there was much to do.  He viewed the morning of the last day of his visit to Imladris with mixed feelings.  He was sad to leave the beautiful, tranquil valley, and knew he would miss Elladan and Elrohir a great deal – but he was overjoyed to be going home.  However lovely Imladris was, Lasgalen was home.  There would be so much to tell his friends; he would see Calmacil and Mireth again, and revisit old haunts.  Much to his surprise, he had even missed dour Lanatus, his tutor –  though he rather doubted that Lanatus had missed him. 

He reflected on some of the wilder incidents while he had been in Imladris, especially the breathtaking stupidity he and Elrohir had displayed in their trip across the Bruinen.  Only two days on from that little venture, he could not fathom what had possessed either of them.  It would have served them both right if the troll had killed them.  They had deserved everything they got, from the terrifying encounters with the troll and the river, to the round scolding they had received, and their drudgery in the kitchens.   The hardest thing to bear was the knowledge that he had let his father down.

Much to his surprise, Legolas found he had actually quite enjoyed the punishment of kitchen duty.  There had been a lot of fun and laughter in sharing the task with Elladan and Elrohir, and he had even found an odd satisfaction in transforming the stacks and stacks of dirty glasses and plates to clean, shining crystal and china.  The unexpected praise of the kitchen overseer had been a bonus, and in the end, they had not really missed too much.  They had had their own feast – far more informally – and there had been time for songs and music in the Hall of Fire at the end of the evening.  To his mingled embarrassment and gratification, there had even been a song about the archery contest, and his deliberately missed shot when the little girl ran onto the field. 

With a smile, he glanced at the table by the bed. The handful of flowers and weeds the child had given him still stood in a glass of water there.  They were wilting now, but he had already carefully pressed some of the blooms to preserve them, borrowing a heavy book from Elrond’s library for the task.

He slid out of bed, and crossing to the open window stood gazing out at the valley.  It was still early, and dew lay heavily on the grass.  Far below he could see glimpses of the river, and could hear the distant murmur as it flowed swiftly through the valley.  For all the beauty of the view, he found himself thinking of the early morning mist hanging over the oaks and beeches of Lasgalen, and the way the mist lifted as the sun slowly warmed the day.  It was rather surprising just how much he missed the forest.   It would be autumn soon, and he longed to see the changing colours as the leaves turned to gold, bronze and scarlet before they fell.  It was time to go home.

Behind him, there was a knock at the door, and his father entered.  “Are you ready yet?  We need to get the baggage down to the …”  He stopped and sighed, surveying the room with an expressive silence.

Legolas followed his father’s gaze.  It was fairly neat – he was not by nature untidy – but he had had no time to pack or prepare for their departure.  Clothes from the previous evening were draped over a chair, a pair of light indoor shoes lay by the bed, and a solitary boot – where was the other? – stood in the centre of the floor.  Books and other possessions were scattered across a table by the window.  Looking up, he met Thranduil’s eyes.  “I’ll do it now,” he promised.  “Before breakfast.  It won’t take long.  I’m sorry father, I know I should have done it before – it’s just …”  his voice trailed off. There was no real excuse; he should have been ready.

“It is just that when the rest of us were preparing for the journey, you were off gallivanting in the woods with Elrohir, or completing your punishment,”  Thranduil finished dryly.  “Now, Legolas.  And if you are late for breakfast,  I will not ask Elrond’s servants to keep anything back!”  he threatened as he left.

Legolas washed rapidly, dressed even more quickly, and began to pack rather haphazardly, pushing clothes into his bag.  His father’s threat was not an idle warning, he knew – and if he missed breakfast, they would not pause their journey to eat again until they stopped for the night, well on the way into the foothills of the Hithaeglir.

He found the stray boot beneath the bed, remembered to check the bathing room, and surveyed the room again.  All was ready to be taken down to the stables to be loaded onto the baggage ponies.  All that remained was the much smaller pack he would carry himself, his bow and his quiver.

His bow.  He stared at it for a moment in dismay, remembering something he had intended to ask his father.  It was too late now, too late – unless … there was just a chance.  He hurried from the room, and managed to catch his father just before he went down to breakfast.  “Father!  Do you remember, we said we would give Elladan and Elrohir new bows?  You said you would talk to Elrond and Celebrían about it.  Did you?  What happened?  I forgot to ask you about it before,” he admitted.

“Then it is as well that one of us remembers a promise,”  Thranduil told him.  “Look over there.”  He pointed to the table.  There lay two bows of pale wood, the ends capped in engraved mithril.  Two quivers rested beside them, the tooled leather painted and etched with gold and silver.  Arrows – two dozen at least – lay at the end of the table.

Legolas picked up one of the bows, examining it with awe.  He had never seen anything so lovely.  He ran his hands over it appreciatively, bending and flexing it carefully, testing the strength and suppleness.  A pattern of ivy intertwined with oak leaves was delicately etched along its length, continuing onto the end caps, the details picked out in gold.  The wood was highly polished, and felt smooth and silky as he trailed his fingers over it.  He drew back on the string, feeling the springiness of the wood and the tension that sang through the weapon as it bent.  Releasing the string, he pictured the trajectory of an imaginary arrow, soaring straight and true to sink deep into the centre of a target.  With a bow like this, there would be immense power behind the shot.

At last, a little reluctantly, he replaced the bow back on the table, and turned to his father who had been watching in silence.  “Well?”  Thranduil asked.  “Do you think they will like them?”

“Like them?”  Legolas repeated incredulously.  He paused. “Yes, I think they will like them.  I have never seen such beautiful bows.  Who made them?  They’re not quite the same design as the ones we use – yet they’re not like the ones here either.   But why didn’t you tell me?  I thought nothing had been done, and that it was too late!”

“You seemed rather preoccupied with other matters,”  his father explained.  “I spoke with Elrond and Celebrían, and then Minastir and Ciryatan worked together on them.  Do you like them?”

Legolas nodded with appreciation, trailing his fingers over them again.  “Oh, yes,” he said simply.  Minastir was his father’s best weapon master, as Ciryatan was Elrond’s.  With two such skilled craftsmen working together, it was not surprising that the weapons were so unique, a blend of the best skills and techniques of both Lasgalen and Imladris.

He picked up the second bow.  At first glance it appeared no different, which seemed appropriate for the twins.  They always seemed to know which items were theirs, anyway.  As he looked more closely though, he realised that there was a sight variation – the ivy twisting around the wood curled in the opposite direction, and it was entwined with beech leaves, not oak.  Like Elladan and Elrohir themselves, the differences between the two were subtle, but were there if one knew what to look for.  Finally he turned to the quivers, made of oiled and polished leather that had been stiffened to hold its shape.  They had the same ivy, oak and beech ornamentation engraved and painted onto the leather.

He could not help feeling rather envious of the twins.  Against these beautiful yet extremely functional weapons, his own bow seemed very plain and unadorned.  He quashed the pang of envy firmly.  His bow had served him well for many years.  That familiarity had helped him in many contests, and a new weapon would need practice before he became accustomed to it.  And yet …  he cast a final longing look at the table, and turned to leave.

“When are we going to do it?  Give them the bows, I mean?” he asked.

“Now?”  Thranduil suggested.  “There is no time like the present, after all.”  He picked up one set, leaving Legolas to carry the other, and they went down to the main hall together.

Only Elrohir was there – his brother, sister and parents had not yet appeared.  Legolas paused.   “I’ll distract Elrohir while you keep these out of sight,” he suggested.   Surreptitiously passing the items he carried to his father, Legolas stopped beside Elrohir.  “Has anyone found out that your bow is missing yet?” he whispered.

Elrohir shook his head dejectedly.  “Not yet – but it’s only a matter of time,” he said miserably.  “I’ve borrowed one from the armoury for now, but someone is sure to notice that it’s not mine.  Legolas, what am I going to do?”

“Never mind – I’m sure we’ll probably be able to think of something.”  Legolas injected a great deal of uncertainty into his voice.  “Don’t worry!” he added reassuringly.

Elrohir sighed.  “That’s easy for you to say – it wasn’t your bow that the troll broke!”

Legolas nodded in sympathy.  “I know.  And I know you were trying to make it release me.  Don’t worry, Elrohir – I told you, I expect we’ll think of something!”

“I hope so,”  Elrohir muttered.  “But it will have to be soon – training starts again tomorrow.”  He sighed again, and poked at a piece of bread on his plate gloomily.

While they spoke in low voices, Thranduil had stowed the gifts under the table.  Having thoroughly unsettled Elrohir, Legolas joined him, not feeling in the least bit guilty at tormenting his friend.  His worry would soon be removed, anyway.

“Whatever did you say to Elrohir?”  Thranduil asked.  “He looks rather miserable!”

“Oh – he was saying that training restarts tomorrow, and he’s not happy with the bow he has to use.  But I didn’t say anything about the new one!”  Legolas added virtuously. 

As he spoke, the rest of Elrohir’s family arrived and sat at the long table.  “Well, we need not keep him in suspense for much longer.”  Thranduil reached below the table, producing three packages.  “Elrond, before we return to Lasgalen, I have some small tokens of our appreciation for your hospitality during our visit.”  He gave one of the gifts to Elrond, and two smaller ones to Celebrían and Arwen.

Legolas watched curiously.  He had had no idea that his father had gifts for all five.  Elrond’s was a book – yet another addition to his library – richly bound in leather.  For both Celebrían and Arwen there were pretty necklaces and bracelets, with enamelled buttercups and daisies.

Arwen was delighted with hers.  “Thank you!  Oh, how beautiful!  I want to wear it now.  El, will you do up the clasp for me?”   She turned to Elladan, seated next to her.

He fastened the clasp, then studied her critically.  “You look very nice, Ar – almost ladylike!”  From where he sat, Legolas could not see her face, but at Elladan’s sudden laugh guessed that she had made a most unladylike gesture.

Finally, Thranduil felt beneath the table again and took out the two bows.  “I also have these.  I learned a few days ago that you were both hoping for new archery equipment, but would have to wait a few months.  Allow me to give you these.”  He placed them on the table in front of Elladan and Elrohir.

The twins seemed to be stunned into silence.  Their gifts were clearly much grander than the others were.  They picked up the bows almost reverently, turning them over and over, examining the detail just as Legolas himself had done.  Arwen peered over Elladan’s shoulder, just as awed.  At last, Elrohir looked up.  “Thank you, Lord Thranduil,”  he managed to say,  “but why?” he added in wonder.  “These are far more than mere leaving gifts!”

“You saved Legolas from the river,”  Thranduil explained.  For a second, Elrohir looked as horrified as Legolas felt.  Did Thranduil know of their escapade after all? Then Thranduil continued.  “You both acted courageously and sensibly in freeing him and reviving him.  This is a very small token of my everlasting gratitude.”

“But you do not have to thank us for that!”  Elladan exclaimed.  “Of course we got him out – how could we do anything else?  We never wanted to be rewarded for it!”   Beside him, Elrohir was shaking his head – agreeing with his twin, and denying the need for any reward. 

“Never mind that!”  Legolas interrupted.  “The thing is, do you like them?”

Rather numbly, Elladan nodded, glancing at his brother.  “Yes.  We do, don’t we El?  I’ve never seen such magnificent bows – and the quivers, too!”  He ran his fingers over the embossed pattern, tracing the designs longingly.  “Do you really mean it?”  he added wistfully.

“Yes,”  Thranduil told them both forcefully.  “I really mean it.  You both deserve it.  Thank you.”

Both Elladan and Elrohir seemed a little awed by the praise and the gifts.  Yet they were the heirs of Imladris, and had been well trained in courtesy.  Elladan stood.  “Thank you, your majesty,”  he said formally.  “For these, and for all your kindnesses.” 

Elrohir also stood, and nodded.  “We will use them well,” he promised.  Suddenly  he glanced along the table and grinned.  “Legolas, you little orc!”  he laughed, breaking the formality abruptly.  “You knew!  You knew all the time!”

Legolas shrugged, not in the least repentant.  “Of course I knew – it was my idea!  Now, when are you going to try them out?  This morning?”  He hoped there would be time before they left.  Perhaps the twins would allow him a turn, so he would have at least one chance to use the beautiful weapons – but it was not to be.

Elrond shook his head firmly.  “Not now.  This afternoon, perhaps.  Thranduil, thank you indeed.  We are all most grateful.”

o-o-o

From the windows of his room, Thranduil took a last look at the vista of Imladris below him.  Lovely as it was, he felt a deep ache of loss and longing for the trees of his own forest.  He sensed all was well, but had been away for too long.  He was intangibly bound to Lasgalen, and over the years had developed an ability and awareness to sense intruders and threats anywhere in the realm.   Recently he had noticed the first signs of this skill in Legolas, and knew that his son was developing the same perception.  Legolas, too, missed the forest badly –  though he did not yet feel the physical pain of that separation. 

It was time to go home.

Gathering the last of his belongings, Thranduil took from its place of concealment another bow and quiver.  When commissioning Minastir and Ciryatan to make the bows, he had asked them to craft a third weapon in secret.  This one was for Legolas.  It was slightly shorter than those given to the twins, for ease of use among the trees – the warriors of Lasgalen fought from the treetops – and was stained with a darker dye for concealment.  It was just as ornate and beautifully made though, with the same delicate etching and gilding along its length.  He had seen the longing in his son’s eyes when he saw the twins’ bows, and the way he had tried to conceal his momentary envy.  He planned to give this to Legolas later in the day, when they made their first stop for the night in the foothills of the mountains.  Legolas would then have the rest of the journey to practice with it, to accustom himself to the greater draw, and to learn how it would affect an arrow’s flight.

With a small smile at the thought of the surprise, joy and pleasure the gift would bring, Thranduil hurried down the side stairs towards the stable yard, to hide the bow among the bags carried by the pack ponies, then returned to the house to find Legolas.

It was time to leave.

The End

Author’s Notes:  Well, it’s finished at last!  It’s taken me two years and one month exactly.  Don’t worry, there will be plenty more Elladan/Elrohir/Legolas stories to come, but it’s time to finish some of the outstanding ones first!

Hithaeglir – the Misty Mountains

The Third Bow

They made their first stop for the night in the foothills of the Misty Mountains as the path climbed towards the pass before dropping down towards the plain of the Anduin.  Long lush grass grew at the side of the track, and a small stream trickled past moss-covered boulders on the edge of the great pine forest.

As the guards set up camp, Thranduil called Legolas to him.  “Falassion and  Teiglin are going hunting – would you like to join them?  See what you can catch for our supper.”

Legolas nodded.  “Of course – there should be rabbits, and maybe some deer.  I will get my bow.”  He turned, but Thranduil stopped him.

“Wait.  Would you like to use this instead?”  He held out the third bow Minastir and Ciryatan had made.

Legolas’s face was a perfect picture of stunned surprise.  His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open in a gasp of astonishment.   Rooted to the spot, he made no move to take the bow, but merely stared at it in disbelief.

Thranduil smiled.  “Of course, if you do not want it I can keep it myself,” he suggested.  “This will have a greater draw than you are used to – it will take time to become accustomed to it.  Perhaps you should keep the old …”

“No!”  Legolas interrupted.  “No.  I mean …”  He took the bow from Thranduil, turning it in his hands.   The wood was stained with a dark dye, but a pattern of beech leaves was carved along its length, picked out in green.  He ran his fingers along the bow, feeling the smoothness of the wood and tracing the pattern of leaves and tenrils of ivy.  “This is a little shorter than the ones you gave Elladan and Elrohir,” he noted with approval.  “It will be much better to use in the trees – theirs would be too long.”  He drew the string back, sighting down an imaginary arrow, and released it.  “Perfect,” he breathed.  “It would be impossible to miss with this.” 

Thranduil smiled again, delighted at Legolas’s reaction.  “Try these,” he said, handing him a matching quiver filled with new arrows fletched in green.  

Legolas slung the quiver on his back, and reached over his shoulder for an arrow.  He frowned as the leaf he aimed at quivered but did not fall, and fired again.  This time the leaf fell, an arrow placed neatly through the centre. 

Still clutching the bow in one hand he spun around and hugged Thranduil.  “Thank you, Ada – thank you so much!” he cried.  “It’s – it’s …”  He halted, lost for words.

 Thranduil returned the embrace and ruffled his hair.  “I am glad you like it, elfling.  Now go and practise – and do not forget supper!”

Legolas nodded.  “I know!”  He darted after the guards, then glanced back at Thranduil.  “I will make you proud, father,” he vowed, then dashed off again.  “Falassion, Teiglin – wait for me!

Thranduil watched him go.  “You always do, child,” he whispered.  “You always do.”

The End