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Chapter Twenty-Two – A Little Darling

Galadriel pouted with affectionate sympathy at her beloved’s pulled smile.  Just when they had struck a harmonious chord, they were interrupted.

Hrassa, as their guest, unexpected or not, would of course be provided with whatever he might need for a comfortable stay.  But despite that care, he had a right to his things.  So, servants sent to fetch his gear must be allowed to intrude into the alcove, at the very least, for a few minutes.  Truth though, if she had handled their discussion with a bit more wisdom, she and Celeborn would not still be here, but where they should already be, in the great hall seeing to the entertainment of their invited guests.

With a demonstratively wistful sigh, Celeborn dropped his embrace.  Half a minute more and I would have gotten you to kiss me, Melluain.  He stepped back, lightly trailing the fingers of one hand along her arm to take her hand in his and keep a tender clasp suspended low between them.

Tomorrow afternoon, Melindo, she reminded him.  Then, for certain.

As respectful of his lady’s marital rank as he was of his captains’ martial, he deferred to her jurisdictional authority with an acknowledging tip of his head.

“They may come in,” she told Ithinduil.  But, Gwîlagor was who lifted the gauzy curtain aside.

A lone person entered – a surprisingly small lad wearing page’s livery, whom she had never seen before.  He had to be one of youngest, if not the youngest, of the recently inducted lot not yet welcomed by the Lady.  A delighted smile took over her face.

He was a little darling!  Poised on the threshold of a growth spurt, if his fanned ears were any indication.  Squarely in the cute state that came just before a child sprouted up and then became so endearingly gangly; something repeated several time during their long growing up.  Gazing at this little youngster, she had to admit she liked these very early stages of childhood most of all, when offspring were delicate miniatures of the adults they would become.  This lad was going to be a heartbreaker.  From his stature and movement, he was not a military page, but from another occupation, likely clerical or culinary.

Surprised by her captivated expression, her husband turned his head to see who it was she found so enchanting.

Coming to stand just inside the room, the young page’s enormous eyes blinked in amazement.  The lips of his diminutive mouth compressed together in a struggle not to split open in gaping wonder at the august High-elves whose presence he had not anticipated.  In spite of being awed, he managed to correctly bow and go to his task.  But being so jittery, the poor little ellon fumbled at picking up Hrassa’s heavy bow; the length of which was almost three times his height.  It awkwardly clattered against the hard frame of the bench, and he froze in dread of what he had done.

Celeborn’s head turned back around to face her.  He meant to rescue the bow and page both.

“Will you excuse me for a moment, my lady?”  Receiving her approving nod, he slowly turned and started walking unhurriedly over to the lad, so as not to overwhelm him.

Go gently, my great hart, she teased him.  Do not frighten my little leveret.  He quirked a smile, and sent to her the image of a towering stag lowering a friendly nose to barely brush against anxiously wriggling whiskers.  She had to hold back her laughter lest she spook the child herself.

Gently easing the bow from the flushed youngster’s hands, Celeborn replaced it upon the bench.

“What is your name, nethben?”  He spoke in the caring, paternal tone that he would use with his own children and that affable teachers always used.

“Rhiss, my lord” was the squeaky reply.  Despite the stressed answer, her husband was reading the child right.  He radiated with the promise of patient enlightenment, and the lad was responding well to being cued into the familiar situation of wise master and learning student.

He got control of his nerves and past having had his clumsiness noticed; his eagerness overcoming his fear.  He was quite excited about getting inside the Meadow Room, the vaunted private parlor of the rulers.  But, a personal lesson from the Lord himself was beyond his wildest dreams.  He was thrilled to discover that Lord Celeborn was a kind instructor, and not always the daunting commander seen on the field.

“Well, Rhiss,” her lord husband began; on this occasion his propensity to lecture quite helpful.  “A hunter’s gear is not carried quite like a swordsman’s or a secretary’s.  First, anything that hangs across the body and the quiver very first.  Arrows are less likely to be spilled or broken under a pack then strapped over one.”   Celeborn bent down to help.  “Here, let us shorten it.”  The bottom of the cinched up quiver was barely off the floor.  The adjusted bedroll was slung over the opposite shoulder; it too hanging very low.

“You see how the cloak has been folded long-ways?  Wrap it loosely around your forearm.  You will tuck whatever sundry things inside, using it as you would a wide sleeve.  Both hands should be left free.”  He splayed his hands and comically waggled all his fingers, getting Rhiss to do the same.  “Good!”  They both smiled at having a bit of fun.  “Now, keep the elbow of the hindered arm against your side with the forearm level and load it up.”  The lad was so earnest about what he was doing that Galadriel was perhaps enjoying the lesson even more than he.

“The bow you take up last.  Use the hand of your free arm and put it into the hand of the hindered arm.  Elbow tucked in, arm aimed forward.  That is good.  Grasp it where it is off the ground and you still can keep your forearm level.  You do not want those sundry things falling out,” he winked.  Rhiss fleetingly smirked.  She was sure there was some crude male joke involved there, however she was just as glad that she did not know what it was about.

“Which leaves one hand and arm completely unhindered.  Do you see how it helps doing it this way?”

The lad’s face lit up.  “I can open doors all by myself!”  The utter simplicity of his epiphany brought a quiet laugh to Galadriel’s lips before she could stifle it.

It was a common sight in the palace corridors to see someone struggling with arms full, entirely dependent upon a page to get him to where he was going.  Although, she had to wonder whether little Rhiss could actually reach every door handle he encountered.  He probably had to jump up on occasion; the thought of which brought forth another soft laugh.  Nonetheless, a page never had a helper when he was overly burdened.

“Exactly,” praised her smiling lord.  He stood upright, effortlessly avoiding the top end of the bow as it unintentionally swerved to take a swipe at his chin.  “For a wood-elf, a free hand means being able to grab a branch to keep from falling.”  Rhiss distractedly nodded his appreciation of that while adjusting the load crisscrossing his shoulders.

My lord, the poor child is quite burdened under all that.  And, the bow looks beyond his strength to hold steady.  Perhaps we should send for another.

That would embarrass and hurt him more than having to lug Hrassa’s things about.  No, he is fine.  This task would have been for him to do regardless.

That was true, she conceded.  They would not be here to call for another, if they had gotten done with business sooner.  Although, doing nothing for that reason sounded surprisingly fatalistic and a bit out of character for her lord.  Especially after his giving this essential lesson.

“Now, Rhiss, I want you to think of the bow as a pole lamp, the tall kind you carry in procession.” 

Processions, both state and festival, were an activity in which every palace page served regular turns.  It was more than likely that Rhiss, even as small at he was, had already been trained to bear the tall lamps included in most, if not already taken several turns.

“In much the same way, you can balance the bow’s weight by centering it.”  He placed his hands over the lad’s, guiding him, slightly adjusting the vertical set of the weapon.  “There... Do you feel it?  You can rest it atop your foot, if need be.”  He then had Rhiss walk around the bench for practice, and Galadriel was relieved to see that the little ellon did not appear overtaxed.  “See?  Just like a lamp.  What do you do when you come to a doorway?”

“Lift and tilt from the wrist!”  The page demonstrated, showing he had control.  Looking up on high at the Lord, his eyes filled with gratitude and worship.  Celeborn obliged the lad by benevolently looking down at him plainly pleased with his student’s accomplishment.

“Tell me, Rhiss,” his newest hero asked, “how is this task yours when the senior pages vie for the opportunity to come into our parlor?”  The lad squirmed a bit, answering only when Celeborn prompted him by lowering his chin in an encouraging manner.

“No one else wanted to.”  The words rushed out of Rhiss’ mouth and he blushed, knowing what his answer implied about Hrassa, who was not only this lord’s guest but his bowman.

“No?”  Celeborn’s eyebrows floated up, as if this news surprised him.  “A clearer explanation, if you would.”

“No one wanted to fetch the cogndîr’s things,” the page said quickly.  His eyes fell and fixed on the Lord’s feet.  Galadriel was also uncertain where Celeborn was going with this line of query.

“Obviously, but why?  You can tell me, Rhiss.”  The lad’s reticence lessened.  Her lord could be disarming, when he wished to be.  ” I will not be angry with you.”  That was a promise, and everyone knew the Lord’s promises could be counted on.

“Because... he... “

“... must have deserted?”

Rhiss ducked his head and nodded; slightly shocked that the Lord had not avoided that awful accusation.

“Well I must say, I am relieved to hear that.”  Rhiss’ head came up and he blinked, as equally bewildered at this response as Galadriel.  Celeborn again smiled for him.  “I was worried that people would think him returned from dead.”  He stooped to bring his head down to Rhiss’ level and looked into the lad’s wide eyes.  A light touch laid upon his shoulder visibly steadied the youngster.  “But, you are not frightened by the cogndîr, are you?”

“No... “  Then, he remembered to add, “My lord!”

“Good lad!”  He patted Rhiss’ shoulder and stood up.

Galadriel was almost agape.  She could not believe what he had just done!

My lord, you abuse the poor child’s innocence misleading him like that!

Believe me, I value his innocence – and our daughter’s.  Besides, the lad will need something to fortify himself against the taunts of his peers, if he is to serve Hrassa.

If you want someone to be of aid to your bowman, have Elrovail find him!

She has.  She found Rhiss.  He turned to face her.  Are you saying the lad is not willing?

No, but –  Indeed, the lad was quite keen to be of help to such a mysterious figure as Lord Celeborn’s bowman.  Nonetheless, he was so young and trusting.  He will think Hrassa re-embodied when he deserves to know the truth about whom he serves.

And Hrassa will see to that.

Ivann’s blessings!  Hrassa was going to get some practice at being honest with a child or else be proven unworthy of their trust and never be allowed to speak to Celebrían again!  If you ever use our daughter like this – !

Dare I even try?  You would see right through my machinations.

Oh, you are a terrible ellon!

A terrible ellon who is ever at your service, my lady.  His head tilted slightly, eyeing her.  Is it your wish that I set the lad straight?  But, he only asked because he had little doubt what her answer would be.

“My lord, we really should be going into the great hall.”  Although she spoke with clenched teeth, she refrained from a more obvious show of temper, for she did not wish to upset Rhiss over something that was by no means his fault.

“As you please, my lady,” was her husband’s pleasant reply.  Hands drawn behind his back, he sketched a bow towards her, again deferring to her domestic authority.  She adjusted her voice to a pleasanter, more Lady-like tone.

“Rhiss, please deliver Cogndîr Hrassa’s things directly to his room.  And please convey to him personally our wish that he attend breakfast in our apartment, tomorrow at the second hour.  Thank you for your help.  You may go.”

“Yes, my lady.”  He bowed carefully, remembering to keep the long bow he held perpendicular to the floor and not to allow his bent arm to lean forward with him.

Turning to Celeborn, he bowed again.  The two of them again exchanged a look of mutual understanding that passed only between ellyn: a focused cast of eyes, a set mouth and firm chin.  Thus, the Lord silently conveyed his confidence in Rhiss and Rhiss’ his determination to prove himself worthy.

He backed away, carefully turned and left; exiting through the curtains, on his own, without getting entangled or scrapping the tall longbow on the doorframe.  By her lord intervening, the prized bow would not suffer inadvertent damage on its way back to its owner, and the little page also stood a better chance against being damaged by serving the same master.

“We are hosting breakfast tomorrow?” her husband queried in a flat voice.  “Will we be done with our other guests by that hour?”  He was never inclined to invite anyone outside of a close friend into their living quarters.

“Doubtful,” she drawled, with a blasé wave of a hand.  Letting him dwell on the prospect of Lindir at their morning table for a bit was just penance for involving sweet little Rhiss in his designs to rehabilitate the cogndîr.  Admittedly though, the opportunity to test Hrassa’s intentions had been too perfect, just too tempting, for Celeborn to pass on.

“Would saying I am sorry dismiss this notion of yours to punish me, my lady?”

“No.”  She was particularly anger at his making her equally guilty.

He shrugged then, decidedly taunting her with the acceptance of her displeasure as merely a weary matter of course.  She glared at him, and he stared back; his mien irritatingly self-assured.  If she did invite anyone else to breakfast, him inflicting his discontent upon all those seated would be her just punishment.

TBC

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Author’s Notes:

All elvish is in Sindarin unless otherwise indicated and underlined means I put it together myself – corrections and comments are welcome!

cogndîr – bowman Nandorin

melluain – most dear, my dearest  mel (love) –wain (-est, most) used as a noun, not an adjective, the ending ‘n’ kinda sounds possessive

nethben – young one

ellon/elleth – elf male/female

ellyn/ellith – elves male/female