Sorry it’s taken so long to get this out; I’ve been busy writing papers for my Anthropology of Latin American Religion class.  Oi!  Pentecostalism in Brazil is fascinating, don’t get me wrong, but it just doesn’t compare to Lord of the Rings.  Yes, I’m pathetic. 

Thanks to my reviewers; it’s been fun having the ones who’ve been following along this whole time but not reviewing come out of the woodwork now and then.  I appreciate them! 

Thanks to Daisy Princess for her great beta work.  Thanks to my sister (her name really is Xanthe) who’s been following along as well, though I wish she’d review now and then!

Chapter Nine- Distinguished Nanny’s

Olihre tried to focus on the translucent puffs of vapor exuding from his mouth in restless white clouds, all the while fighting to keep his visage neutral and his eyes unexpressive.  It didn’t seem that anyone was paying much attention to him, but if by chance they did hazard a look, he certainly did not want to seem amused or intrigued.  The idea of a girl stealing his knife in order to meet his peculiar friends was comical, he would give no argument there, but it certainly wasn’t becoming of a civilized person, and he wouldn’t encourage such behavior with a reaction of any kind. 

Pivoting lightly upon his heel, Olihre peered past their host and gazed through the twilight towards the gathering of people huddled together on the porch.  He couldn’t see much, due to both lack of light and the distance still remaining between the congregations, but he could make out three distinctly female figures, as well as a small boy.

Legolas and Gimli were still chuckling as the man related his daughter’s frenzied tale earlier, holding his hands up and making animated faces all the while.  Finally the man turned to Olihre and studied him closely.

“Your nose is turning pink, boy-- I suppose we had better move into the house then.”

Olihre made no reply, but rather nodded obligingly and fell in line behind the others as they trekked through the crystallized snow.  When they neared the porch the man called out to his wife.  “We’ll have three guests for the meal tonight, love!  Best have the children set a few more places!”

The middle-aged woman on the porch turned a knowing look to her two daughters and young son.  “You heard your father…up…up!”

The boy of about eleven years of age hopped up and rushed inside the house, his older sisters close on his heels.  Before the screen door could shut though, a hand shot out and stopped it, a head following.  The face that peered around the corner held a smirk that was directed straight towards Olihre, and then a flirtatious smile, which was most certainly not.

Legolas and Gimli both blushed slightly and then turned questioning glances to the young man, who was scowling fiercely and fidgeting with the clasps on the bottom of his tunic.  Not until they heard a chuckle did they remember that the girl’s father was right there. 

“You’ll have to excuse Imlyana, you’d think she’d been raised by elves, the way she…” The man paused, looking as if he had just been slapped.  “Oh!  Forgive me Mi’Lord, it’s only an old expression from where I hail…”

Legolas laughed at the man’s sudden awkwardness, turning to Gimli, who looked as if he agreed fully with the man’s pervious sentiments.  “No need to apologize,” Legolas insisted, “I’ve heard it before.  And as for your daughter, she is still young, only a small child in the reckoning of the elves.”

“Ha!  Don’t let HER catch you saying that…she hates being treated as a child.”  The man stroked his stubbly chin thoughtfully.  “She’s nearly eighteen years old, and has been caring for our family since she could talk.  Her maturity is overdeveloped in some senses, and non-existent in others.  She’s organized fighting divisions while being fired upon by the enemy, arranged fire brigades while in the midst of an Orc attack, and taken upon herself all the duties of the head of household while I was away-- but she can’t seem to keep a straight face when it is expected of her.”  He shook his head.  “I will tell you this though, she loves a challenge.”

“A challenge?” Legolas echoed, turning an inquisitive gaze to his friends.  “Let us hope we do not provide such a challenge.  What kind of guests would we be?” 

The question was obviously rhetorical, and was met with a few more chuckles as the group scraped the snow off of their boots before entering the warm and fragrant house.  The man, who had earlier introduced himself as Hyelir, led the group to a sitting area near the fire where his wife was scrubbing potatoes.  “This is Imliné of the Rohirrim, my beloved wife of twenty-one years.”

“Twenty,” Imliné corrected as she dried her hands on her apron and extended one to Legolas.  She was fair woman of golden hair and pale skin, but her eyes were dark and intense as she allowed Legolas to greet her.  He offered a slight kiss upon her hand as he knew was customary for many of the nations of men, and then passed her off to Gimli, who did the same, and then finally to Olihre, who looked less comfortable than either of his friends.

“Welcome to our home,” she continued.  “Please make yourselves comfortable-- dinner will be ready in a moment.”  Thanks were issued by all as they accepted the proffered chairs, each happy to have a warm and dry place to rest.

Olihre watched as the three children scurried about, each casting curious stares in their direction, but paying mind not to let their mother catch them.  After a few minutes Imliné announced that the meal was ready.  Olihre was the last to rise, keeping his head down and his arms folded across his chest.  He was ushered to a straight-backed wooden chair, flanked on both sides by his traveling companions, and fortunately, out of a direct line of sight to the older girl, whom Olihre was still determined to despise.

“So tell us what brings you to these parts…unless that is confidential?”  Hyelir raised his eyebrows in anticipation as Gimli sat forward in his chair.

“We are scouting for Aragorn...er, Elessar.” Gimli stroked his beard with one hand while picking up a fork with his other.  “Looking to see what ore stores are available in this area.”

“In this area?” Hyelir queried, looking somewhat affronted.

“Actually, no,” Legolas amended, “We are merely traveling through this area on our way to the hills between the Gilraen and Serni rivers.  That land is still owned by the crown, I believe.”

“It is,” Hyelir nodded, obviously pacified.  “This land has been given to the free peoples for their use, but the lands west of us are still wild for the most part, and solely under ownership of the crown.”

“Know you much of the terrain?” Gimli queried.

“Aye, I have long trapped in that area, as the wildlife is not much wary of humans due to the remoteness of it.” 

Legolas arched a brow, turning to address the man in full measure.  “Prince Imrahil’s people report ore stores in abundance, have you seen any sign of such?”

“The hills are full of it, but it would require a large force to extract and refine such crude metal.  Never have the modest farmers of this region possessed the necessary skill or equipment.”  With this he turned to Gimli, who was looking somewhat inflated.  “Though I am sure you have all the skill you need right here-- if the stories I’ve been told have held any truth.”

“Truly, the dwarves do posses remarkable abilities when it comes to the cold and hard things of the earth,” Legolas softened his snide tone to sound less abrasive.  “Master Gimli here has long preached to me the skills of his people.”

Hyelir snorted, “I’ve no part in this feud, as I have never seen either elf nor dwarf in their natural elements.”

Legolas glanced around the table, noting that the children were behaving remarkably well.  “Your family is the epitome of decorum, Sir-- what is your trick?”

“Tis no trick Master Elf, only bribery.  I’ve promised them an adventure soon, and they haven’t forgotten.  Not to mention the threats Imliné and I have made against their lives should they behave badly in front of our distinguished guests.”

This was met with several chuckles and one pronounced huff.  Hyelir glanced over at his younger daughter, who was picking restlessly at her venison.  “What is it Imlara?”

“We’ve been nearly mad with anticipation these last days, and now with them here, we’ll have to wait even longer.”   The fourteen year old spoke hesitantly, looking at her father with trepidation.

Hyelir looked slightly perturbed.  “Perhaps you should consult with your sister on that issue, as it was her scheming that brought our guests here in the first place.  Besides, it won’t be much longer before I have time to take you and your siblings out, but this week I’ve got to do the fertilizing anyway.”

Imlara turned and scowled at her sister, who smiled sweetly at her and then returned to staring holes into the visitors.  Legolas had noticed this unabashed fascination, and had been studiously avoiding eye contact all the while.  Gimli treated the situation as if it were ordinary, and was often caught winking at the young woman.  Each time this happened, Imlyana would raise her eyebrows questioningly and then turn to her father, who was shooting her narrowed looks.

“Daughter, must you continue to hound our company, or may we allow them to eat in peace?”

Imlyana smiled contritely at her father before looking at the dwarf and shrugging her shoulders.  She then turned back to the elf who was regarding her quizzically.  Legolas watched as Imlyana glanced down to the head of the long table where Olihre sat, and then turned a questioning gaze back to him.  She repeated this pointed display several times, each time returning to look at the elf.  Finally, Legolas accepted the rather obvious bait and turned his own head in the direction she had indicated.  He smiled slightly when he spied Olihre, his elbow on the table, arm raised to support his head, which was drooping gloomily, with tangled brown hair obscuring his face.  His attention was turned to his food, which he ate quickly but without gusto.  Legolas then noticed that several others, including a disapproving Imlara, were glancing his way as well.

“Olihre,” Legolas began with a slight edge to his voice, “Are you feeling quite well?”

“Fine,” Olihre muttered without looking up.

“The you’re stronger than most men,” Imlyana said impertinently, “with all that blood in your head, a fall was the last thing you needed.”

Her parents exchanged worried looks as Legolas and Gimli fought to restrain their laughter.  Imlara glared at her sister and whispered, “Lyana!  You’re gonna get us in trouble!”

The younger boy nodded his head in concurrence, “If father gets mad we’ll never go on our trip!”   

“Relax Hyelif, I’m only making conversation.”  Imlyana turned to her father.  “I told you Father, I am happy to take the two out by myself.  These areas are safe now, and I am more than capable of rigging a few traps to entertain the little ones.”

Both younger siblings grumbled at this, but looked expectantly at their father.  Hyelir shook his head.  “I know you are capable my dear, but it is not wise to travel alone, and you are ALL still my little ones.”

Imlyana rolled her eyes.  Suddenly though she perked up and turned to the elf.  “How long will your party be staying in Lebennin?”

“We’ll be here long enough to document the deposits; then we’ll return to Minas Tirith.”  Legolas had a feeling he knew what the girl was getting at, and he wasn’t sure he quite liked it.

Gimli however, was enjoying both the attention of the girl, and the uncomfortable looks that Olihre was sending his way.  “We’ll be there no longer than a week.  Perhaps we could escort you children as we do our survey.”

Imlyana looked ever so pleased as Legolas inclined his head in a mixture of affirmation and resignation.  “This certainly won’t be a dangerous or exciting adventure, but we would be happy to watch over them.”

Hyelir furrowed his brow and bit his lower lip, glancing at his wife, who had her mouth covered by her hand.  When she finally removed it to communicate with her husband, her mouth was twisted into a wry grin. 

“Good Sirs, I’m afraid you don’t comprehend what you’ve just offered.  My children are wonderful, no doubt, but there is a certain…spirit…that runs wild within them.”  Turning to her oldest, she continued.  “Actually, the two younger ones are eager enough to please, but my oldest may be a bit more difficult.”

“Well then it is good that I will not be NEEDING a nanny, isn’t it?  And for that matter, I will be looking after my siblings; these fine Sirs will need only to offer us protection IF indeed any is even needed.  They may feel free to ignore us all the while.”  Imlyana looked pleadingly at her father, who was had his head bowed in thought.

“It seems we have raised quite the politician, would you not agree?”  Hyelir turned to his wife who was looking at their daughter with slight reproach in her eyes.

“One does not always need to treat every situation as if it is a battle,” she insisted.

“I apologize mother; I simply wanted to relieve our visitors of any responsibility that is not absolutely necessary.”

“All right then,” Hyelir relented, “I suppose if our guests are sure they want to undertake this responsibility, we have no problem with it.  The King certainly would not send anyone incapable of such a duty.”

Legolas couldn’t help the wry smile the graced his face for only a moment, causing brief looks of concern to flash across Hyelir and Imliné’s faces.  “Of course not,” Legolas assured them.  “They will be well taken care of.”  Gimli too had to clear his throat and take deep breaths in order to suppress his laughter.

Olihre chose this moment to join the conversation.  “I warn you, these two have a knack for finding trouble.”  He shot a snide look at the two.  “Even this trip has proven more bothersome than I had been prepared for.”

Hyelir and his wife looked at each other in confusion, while Gimli and Legolas merely rolled their eyes and shook their heads.  Imlyana however was ready with a reply.  “Don’t despair-- I’m sure you’ll be toughened up by the end of this adventure.”