Disclaimer:  I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien but they belong to him.  I gain no profit from their use other than the enriched imaginative life that I assume he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.

******

4. A Chattering Pest

Legolas pushed open the door of the sitting room and ran in. “We have a skin of wine! That is what the riddle was about, is it not?” he cried and then skidded to a stop as he saw Eilian pull his mouth away from Amelith’s and jerk away from her. Annael stopped next to Legolas, and Turgon ran into him from behind. Legolas hoped that his friends had not seen Eilian kissing Amelith’s mouth. He could not understand why Eilian liked to do that with maidens, but he did. To Legolas, kissing on the mouth looked like a really embarrassing thing to do.

Eilian cleared his throat. “Yes. Good for you. Wine was the treasure you were supposed to bring back this time.” He put out his hand, and Legolas walked toward him and gave him the wine skin. Eilian opened it, poured wine into two goblets that stood ready on a nearby small table, and handed one of the goblets to Amelith, who took a sip and then smiled.

“You three are so sweet to bring us this,” she chirped.

“We are not ‘sweet,’” Turgon scowled. “We have archery lessons and sword lessons.”

Amelith laughed. “That is so cute,” she said.

Legolas could see Turgon opening his mouth, but Eilian spoke quickly before Turgon could say anything. “Are you ready for your next clue?”

“Yes,” said Annael, his face brightening. Legolas thought Annael was enjoying the treasure hunt. Legolas was enjoying it too, but he did not like leaving Eilian alone with Amelith. She smiled too much.

“Listen then,” said Eilian. “Here it is:

“Find flowers blooming overhead
and on the head of a chattering pest;
pick the flowers and bring them back,
and you will have passed your second test.”

Amelith frowned. “That one is hard,” she said. “What is the answer?” Legolas wrinkled his nose in disgust. She apparently did not even know that you were supposed to solve the riddle, not ask for the answer.

“How can we find flowers at night?” Turgon asked. “The ones in the meadow will be closed up.”

“No going outside,” Eilian said hastily. “You have to find the treasure in the caves.” Legolas bit his lip. He did not like to agree with Amelith, but she was right. This riddle was hard. “Go,” Eilian told them. “Come back when you have the treasure.” He leaned back on the bench and put his arm around Amelith, who nestled up against him and giggled. Legolas made a disgusted noise and turned and marched out of the room.

“Where are we going to find flowers?” Annael asked, as they stood uncertainly in the hallway.

Suddenly, Turgon gave a whoop, ran toward a table that stood against the wall, and grabbed at vase of lilacs that stood on it.  He pulled the flowers out of the vase and shook the dripping bouquet at Legolas and Annael. “Here they are!” he cried. “Eilian was trying to fool us. They were right here!”

Legolas could not help laughing. Turgon was really very clever sometimes. “Come!” he urged and turned to open the sitting room door again and run into the room, only to see Eilian yanking his mouth away from Amelith’s neck.

“Legolas, why are you back so soon?” Eilian cried. He dropped his head against the back of the bench and drew a deep breath.

Legolas frowned. He knew that Eilian was busy with Amelith, but his feelings were hurt anyway. Eilian had sounded very unhappy to have Legolas even be around. “We found the treasure,” he said stiffly, grabbing the lilacs from Turgon and holding them out for his brother’s inspection.

Eilian’s grey eyes focused on Legolas, and for a long moment, they looked at one another. Then Eilian made a face, took his arm away from Amelith, and leaned forward a little. “I am sorry I was impatient, brat. You were right to come back if you thought you had the treasure. But that is not it, I am afraid.”

Legolas regarded him steadily and, for a moment, considered withholding forgiveness. Eilian really had sounded rather mean. But half to his regret, he found that he could not do it. “We did find flowers,” he said, offering the lilacs again.

“I see that,” Eilian said, “but those are not the flowers you are looking for. Think about the rest of the riddle. The flowers will be ‘blooming overhead,’ and they will be ‘on the head of a chattering pest.’”

“You should think about it out in the hall,” Amelith put in, and to Legolas’s delight, Eilian frowned at her.

“Perhaps we will not play this game any more,” he said carefully, watching Eilian’s face.

His brother grimaced a little, but then he sighed and said, “You may stay here with us if you like.”

“No!” protested Turgon. “I want to win the game so we can go to the waterfall tomorrow.”

Legolas smiled at Eilian. “Very well. We can go look for flowers that are high up.” Eilian suddenly smiled back at him, and Legolas turned and led the way out of the room again, feeling inexplicably happy. He jammed the lilacs back in the vase and put the vase back on the table, wiping up spilled water with the sleeve of his tunic.

“What would a ‘chattering pest’ be?” Turgon wondered.

“It sounds like you, Turgon,” Legolas said, and they all laughed, even Turgon.

“We should look in every room and see if there are flowers overhead,” Annael suggested. Unable to think of a better idea, Legolas led them down the hall of the family quarters to start by looking in all the rooms there.

***

Thranduil paused for a moment, listening to the music next door in the Great Hall and trying to think of the right phrasing for what he wanted to convey in his letter to the Master of Esgaroth. He wanted to make it clear that the area where the Men were collecting wood was under his absolute control, and he certainly did not want the soldiers of Esgaroth patrolling the area nor did he want the Master questioning the competency of Ithilden’s warriors. On the other hand, the three Men had indeed come to harm while in Thranduil’s woods, and that had to be acknowledged and set right.

And Thranduil had no doubt at all that it would be set right. He had seen the look on Ithilden’s face when Hiran told them about the missing Men and the spiders. The captain of the Eastern Border Patrol was undoubtedly about to receive a dispatch that would set his hair on fire. Ithilden was not one to accept a less than stellar performance from one of his subordinates without pointing out the hapless underling’s failings in the most stinging words he could find.

Of course, Thranduil also suspected that the report of the horse returning alone had brought other memories to Ithilden’s mind, just as it had to Thranduil’s, particularly given that this was the anniversary of the day on which Eilian’s horse had returned that way. In the sitting room that evening nineteen years ago, Thranduil had known something was wrong, simply from the tension in the muscles in Ithilden’s back as he poured himself wine.

And of course, Lorellin had probably known too, although she had not asked Ithilden for any explanation. She had been distracted by Legolas’s imminent arrival, no doubt, but Thranduil had seen her worry for Eilian too. She had not asked Ithilden about him, though, because she had also seen that her oldest son was already tense enough. Thranduil smiled to himself rather wistfully. Lorellin had always been perceptive about the needs of those she loved.

Thranduil had been less scrupulous than his wife and had gotten the truth out of Ithilden before he had followed Lorellin to bed that night. “I have every warrior I can find out looking for him and Maltanaur,” Ithilden had finished by telling him, his mouth grimly set and his brow furrowed in anxiety.

“I am sure you are doing everything anyone could do,” Thranduil had said, squeezing Ithilden’s shoulder. Then he had gone to his apartment to find that Lorellin was, not surprisingly, already asleep, despite her anxiety about Eilian. The pregnancy was exhausting her, and she had been sleeping for more and more hours of the day. As a matter of fact, Thranduil too was more tired than usual, for he had tried to support Lorellin as much as he could by giving her his own strength through their bond. Ah well, he had thought, tomorrow it will be over. And then the next morning, he had awakened to find her in labor, and her true fear for Eilian had become obvious when she had sent Thranduil to find out if he was home yet.

~*~*~

The morning of Legolas’s birth, nineteen years ago

Thranduil knocked on the door to Ithilden’s room and, when he got no answer, opened the door anyway. Ithilden was not there, and Thranduil had not really expected him to be. He thought there was a good chance that his oldest son had not been to bed at all but had stayed up all night, hoping to hear that Eilian had been found and trying to resist the temptation to interfere in Deler’s command and direct the search himself.

Thranduil went on to the dining chamber to find Ithilden just scraping up the last of a bowl of porridge and already half risen in preparation for leaving. It took him a moment to realize that Thranduil had entered the room, for his mind was evidently far afield with those carrying out the search.

“Good morning, iôn-nín,” Thranduil said. “Have you had word of Eilian yet?”

“Not yet, Adar. I would have come and told you immediately if I had. How is Naneth?”

Thranduil smiled faintly. “She is in labor, and at the moment she is pacing about the room as if she were keyed up for battle, which I suppose she is. Come and see her before you go off for the day.”

Ithilden hesitated, clearly eager to be back at the warrior fields, but then he gave in and followed Thranduil back to his parents’ apartment. They found Lorellin sitting in the rocking chair near the fireplace, panting and tracing her fingertips in small light circles over the swell of her pregnancy. Recognizing that she was dealing with a contraction, Thranduil halted in the doorway, and Ithilden waited too. Then she seemed to relax and notice them.

“Good morning, Ithilden,” she smiled. “Legolas is on his way, but I think it will be some hours before we see him yet. He has decided that he likes it right where he is, and I have not yet persuaded him that good things await him.” She reached a hand out to Ithilden, and he approached and kissed her forehead.

“Tell Legolas that he should hurry because he is a fortunate baby who will have a beautiful nana to love him,” he said. “I must go and attend to some matters now, Naneth. Be well and do what the midwife tells you.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lorellin looked at the door for a moment. “He is worried,” she murmured. She looked at Thranduil. “Has something happened to Eilian?” Her voice was steady, but he could see that her hands were clenched tightly in her lap.

“He is late arriving,” Thranduil told her, “so, of course, Ithilden frets.” She did not need to know about the riderless horse, Thranduil decided. “I am certain that Eilian is simply delayed. My bond to him feels undisturbed, and surely yours is the same.”

She nodded. “Yes, but Eilian is very good at concealing some of his adventures from us.” She scanned his face, which he tried to keep as placid as possible, but then her own face puckered and her hands flew to her belly again.

He hurried toward her and crouched next to her to put his hands over hers. “Relax, my love. There is no point in fighting labor.”

“I know,” she panted, “but I cannot help it, and I would like to see you try to relax while giving birth.” He laughed at the image, although he privately thought that if Lorellin had not been worried about Eilian, she probably would have been more able to let some of the tension go. The contraction eased, and Lorellin leaned back limply in the rocking chair and then struggled to her feet to begin pacing the room again. Thranduil bit back a protest, put his arm around her to support her, and paced along with her.

“Eilian is indeed good at concealing his adventures,” Thranduil said, and then added dryly, “although not always as good as he would have liked to be.”

Lorellin smiled. “Do you remember the time he took the pot of raspberry jam from the tea tray and spooned it into my Aunt Glilan’s fur-lined boots?” They both laughed. “How old would he have been?”

Thranduil tried to recall. “Eight perhaps. Fortunately, Glilan was tolerant, but, small as he was, he should have known better. I seem to recall scolding him soundly and putting him in his room. I still do not understand why he did that, and I do not think he does either, and some days, I would swear he has not changed a bit.”

Lorellin reached out a hand to him. “He just wanted to see what would happen. He is imaginative and playful. He is, in short, a Wood-elf, my poor Sindar love.” Thranduil rolled his eyes and kissed her fingertips, and then she sucked in her breath as another contraction began. For half a minute or so, all of their concentration was on the wave of painful effort that she and the baby were making. When it was over, she sagged against him a little, and he smoothed her hair back from her forehead and kissed it.

“I think Eilian was a shock to you because he was so different from Ithilden,” Lorellin finally said, taking up their conversation as if there had been no interruption.

Thranduil laughed. “That he was, although Ithilden had his moments too.”

Lorellin smiled. “Indeed. I think he was about ten when one of the stable masters caught him trying to steal a horse so he could ride off and help you defeat the enemy. You were commanding the troops yourself then and were often away and he was worried about you. As I recall, he was carrying a wooden sword that you had given him as a begetting day present.”

Thranduil smiled and rubbed his cheek in her hair. “He was a worrier even then and much too inclined to think that everyone else’s safety was his responsibility. He needs a nice elleth. Is that not what you always say?”

“He does,” she insisted and then stopped in her tracks to struggle with another contraction. They were becoming longer and coming closer together, Thranduil noted. When the contraction had ended, she turned toward the bedroom. “I think perhaps I want to lie down now,” she admitted.

He helped her into bed. “I will send for the midwife,” he said and knew the time was right when she did not protest.

~*~*~

Legolas stopped in the antechamber and scanned the various hallways leading off it, trying to decide where he and Turgon and Annael should look next. Lively music sailed out the open doors to the Great Hall, and he could glimpse Elves dancing.

“I still think we should look in your brothers’ and ada’s rooms,” Turgon grumbled.

“I am not allowed to go in those rooms when they are not there,” Legolas insisted. “Eilian would not have hidden the treasure there.”

Suddenly Annael gasped, grabbed Legolas’s arm, and pointed. Legolas looked in the direction he indicated, and there, scampering around the very edge of the doorway, was Green-y, just entering the Great Hall. Annael darted after him, with Legolas and Turgon close behind. Legolas narrowly avoided running into Annael when he stopped just inside the room.

“Where is he?” Annael cried. “I do not see him!”

Legolas scanned the room. Three musicians stood on a raised platform on one side, playing a drum, a horn, and a lute.  The tune was lively and loud, and most of the Elves in the room had joined in a dance to celebrate it. The males leaped and the maidens spun, with their skirts swirling out around them in brightly colored arcs. A servant snaked along the edge of the room, bearing a tray of wine and fruit and occasionally skipping out of the path of a dancer.

“Someone will step on Green-y and squish him,” Annael agonized.

Legolas’s heart sank. He was very much afraid that Annael was right. Suddenly, a maiden’s skirt twitched aside, and Legolas caught a quick glimpse of a bright green ribbon that disappeared again. “There he is,” he gasped to Annael and Turgon, “by the lady in the pink gown.” The three of them dashed into the shifting mass of dancers.

Legolas dropped to his knees near the lady in the pink gown, pushing a froth of skirt aside. “Look out!” cried the lady, as an Elf backed into him and went sprawling.  Legolas grunted and put his hands up to protect his head.  The Elf who had fallen over him was heavy!

From about twenty feet away, a maiden’s voice cried, “What was that?” Legolas looked up and, through the legs of the dancers, he caught a glimpse of Green-y scurrying toward the edge of the room. The servant did a quick, shuffling move to avoid stepping on him and his tray slid out of his hands. Goblets of wine crashed to the floor, shattering and sending sprays of purple everywhere. A dancer tried to jump out of the way, stepped on a bunch of grapes, and slid with his arms churning wildly before he landed on his backside. Another dancer tripped over him and, in trying to save himself, snatched at the nearest upright surface, which happened to be the leg of the drum player on the nearby platform. The musician screeched and disappeared into the churning mass of Elves.

Legolas crawled frantically toward where he had last seen Green-y.  The mouse dashed past, not ten feet away but still much too far for Legolas to reach, and ran out the Great Hall again. Someone tripped over Legolas, knocking him over onto his back. He lay for a dazed moment, gazing up at the carvings around the top of the wall. And suddenly he saw it. There, dangling from the ear of a carved squirrel, was his father’s spring crown of woodland flowers.

***

Thranduil brought himself resolutely back to the present. He had a task to complete and indulging himself in pain for his lost wife would not help him get it done. He was bending over his letter again when suddenly he became aware that music no longer sounded in the Great Hall and that some sort of commotion was underway there. With alarm sweeping through him, he seized the dagger in his boot – the only weapon he was carrying – and hastened out of the room.

He relaxed and sheathed his dagger almost immediately because the guards outside the Great Hall had been joined by those from the Doors, and they were all standing still, looking in with their mouths hanging open, looking astonished rather than alarmed. A sudden motion near the Great Doors caught Thranduil’s eye, but when he turned, he saw only a tiny flash of green as something skittered out of the palace. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he should go and investigate, but then he heard a loud crash from inside the Great Hall and Legolas’s voice crying, “I see it! I see it!”

He rushed to the entry of the Hall. Suddenly aware of his presence, the guards scattered. Those who should have been at the Great Doors faded away, and those on duty at the Hall snapped to attention. For the moment, Thranduil ignored them in favor of trying to take in the scene before him. Most of the Elves in the room were craning their necks to see what was happening near the musicians’ platform. As it happened, Thranduil had a clear view through a gap in the crowd. Broken glass, wine, smeared grapes, and fallen Elves were scattered in the area in front of the platform. The drum player was shouting at someone who had put his foot through the drumskin. And at the top of a carved pillar, reaching out to grasp something colorful, was his youngest son, with Turgon and Annael cheering him on from below.

Afraid to startle the child, Thranduil darted through the crowd, which parted before him and grew silent as its members recognized him. “Legolas!” he called from the foot of the pillar with his heart in his mouth.

Legolas looked down at him. “Look, Ada!” he cried. “I have your crown.” And he began scrambling nimbly down the pillar. Thranduil caught at him as soon as he was in reach and set him firmly on his feet. The other Elves in the room moved away from them, and someone came running with a broom to start clearing up the glass.

“Are you all right, Legolas?” Thranduil demanded. His hands still shook a little.

“Yes,” Legolas answered. “I am not hurt.”

“What are you three doing in here? Where is Eilian?” If Eilian had left the elflings on their own, Thranduil would have his hide.

“He made a treasure hunt for us,” Turgon said, “and we were looking for flowers and these are the right flowers because Eilian said they were on the head of a chattering pest.” He took Thranduil’s crown from Legolas and held it up.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the child.

“It was the squirrel, Ada,” Legolas put in, pointing at the carving, and Thranduil relaxed a little.

“Did you three cause this mess?” he demanded.

“There was a mouse, my lord,” said a servant who was passing with a mop for the spilled wine. “The dancers did not want to step on it, and things just got out of hand.” Thranduil glanced at the Elf. He was smiling broadly, as were most of the others in the room. Evidently they saw the episode as a good joke, now that the confusion had ceased.

Thranduil turned back to the elflings. “Take your treasure to Eilian then. I am through with it for today, and you might as well have it. Tell Eilian I will be busy for a little while yet, but then I will come so that he can leave if he likes.” The three children trotted out of the room.

“But where did Green-y go?” Annael asked Legolas as they left.

Thranduil blinked, tried to make sense of the question, and then shrugged and went back to writing his letter, rehearsing in his mind just what he intended to say to Eilian about putting his crown to such a use. Really, Eilian had no sense of propriety at times! He seated himself at the table and began to write again.