Title: Babe in the Woods chapter 6

Author: sheraiah

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Angry Elvenking, shocked humans, aftermath of battle. For full header and disclaimer see chapter 1.

A/N: I feel the need to explain something here. I forget sometimes that many of the wonderful, and I mean that sincerely, folks that read my fics are movie fans rather than book fans. I happen to be a fan of both the books and the movies for vastly different reasons. That being said, there are questions that the movie folks have raised that need answering, for example: what are Haldir and his brothers doing in Mirkwood? Well, for one thing, it’s no longer Mirkwood. J  At the ending of the Ring War, Thranduil’s people and Galadriel and Celeborn’s people joined forces to sack and destroy Sauron’s stronghold in Mirkwood, Dol Goldur. Once that was accomplished, Thranduil and Celeborn met and decided to divide Mirkwood into three parts, the Northern area would continue to be Thranduil’s kingdom now called Eryn Lasgalen, the middle part would be controlled by the Beorn’s descendants and the Woodmen, and the Southern part would be held by Celeborn and his people and was to be known as East Lorien. Celeborn did not sail with Galadriel, Elrond, Bilbo, Gandalf, Frodo, and Shadowfax. He stayed in East Lorien for a time, and then joined his grandsons, Elladan and Elrohir, in Rivendell. For the purposes of this story the Beornings are being ignored, mainly because the author had a brain-fart and forgot about them temporarily. So sorry, Beorn!

Also, there have been requests to have Legolas and Gimli name the baby. She has a name, given to her by her mother and it’s mentioned in chapter 3, I believe. The baby’s name is Brenna. (Celtic for Little Raven, if my memory serves) However, both of them do have pet names for the baby: Gimli calling her Little Bit and Legolas calling her Sweetling.

                                                   ~

Abrum took a bite of the flavorful bread he had been given by the elven warrior who tended the fire and chewed slowly, his mind racing. He was still reeling from the revelation that their guide was the son of the Elvenking, not to mention the surprise of the kindness offered to them by the Elvenking and his warriors.

Once Abrum had answered the king’s questions, the king had ordered three of his warriors to track Legolas and Gimli and bring them back. The remainder of his warriors, he instructed to set up camp. In very little time, Abrum and his family were seated by a fire with food in their hands. The elves behaved with reserve towards the adults, but the children were another matter. The children were each seated with an elven warrior who seemed to delight in feeding and spoiling them, and who genuinely seemed to enjoy their company. Abrum had always heard that elves loved children, and had observed that it was true of Legolas as the elf had answered endless questions and played games with Abrum’s children, but he now had proof before his eyes that the tale was fact and he was grateful for it. His children had been terrified by the flight through the woods and they could use all the coddling they could get. His eyes turned to the king.

King Thranduil paced back and forth at the edge of the circle cast by the firelight; his fair face, so like to his son’s, was set in a frown. As kind as he had been to them, once he realized why they were in the forest to begin with, it was evident that his worry for his son shadowed everything else. Abrum stood and made his way over to the pacing elf, his manner diffident.

“Your majesty, you’ve been more than kind to us, truly, and none of us’d take it wrong if you went to go look for your son.” The sea-gray eyes turned to bore into him and Abrum found another tale he had heard to be truth: it was very difficult for a mortal to meet an elf’s gaze for long.

“Blacksmith, while I appreciate the thought behind your words, I do not need your leave to do anything.”

“Of course not,” Abrum said hurriedly, “Especially not in your own land, but I wanted you to know we wouldn’t take it as a lack of manners, that’s all I meant.” He was surprised to see one corner of the king’s mouth curl up wryly.

“Do you think I do this for courtesy?”

“No, I think you don’t want to see children sent off hungry and tired, your majesty.” Abrum set his shoulders and looked directly into the king’s face.

“Nor your wife,” Thranduil agreed, his face sobering. “One can tell a great deal about the character of most beings by how they treat their young ones and females, blacksmith. The fact that your children and your wife are well fed, unbruised, and happy is reason enough for me to offer you assistance. I would offer it to them in any case.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Abrum studied him for a moment. “And your son’s kindness to folks he doesn’t even know makes me think I can trust you, too.” The wry smile reappeared.

“Legolas may have the look of me, Abrum Blacksmith, but it is his mother from whom he inherited his spirit.” The king’s eyes turned to him again. “I am not going after my son because I have sent my best trackers after him and they will find him much faster without me in their way. Legolas is alive, I would know immediately if he were not. What I do not know is why he was returning. He and Master Gimli had planned to return to Gondor.” Abrum shifted.

“Well, I can tell you some of it,” the blacksmith said. “It has to do with Brenna.”

“Your littlest one?”

“The littlest one, yes, but not mine and Mahri’s,” he clarified. “Brenna is the daughter of a friend of ours. Tomil was killed a few months ago in a fight with orcs and bad men. Her mother had to go live with her uncle, who wanted the baby gone so he could marry Kesta off again for his own gain. As soon as the baby was born, he took her out into the woods and left her to die. Legolas and Gimli found her.”

“That sounds unpleasantly familiar. Where did this happen?” Thranduil’s brows had drawn together and Abrum swallowed convulsively. He truly did not want to ever be on the receiving end of this elf’s anger. The king was as intimidating as his son was cheerful and friendly; truly not one to be crossed.

“Exactly where you’re thinking, your majesty. The town’s had a law against it since the last time you were there and they’ve banished anyone who’s tried it until now.”

“I take it from your words that this man is not being punished. Why?” the scowl had deepened and Abrum involuntarily shuddered.

“Because he owns most of the town, and the law in it. The ones he doesn’t own are terrified of him. He sent the brigands after us that Legolas and Gimli went to fight,” Abrum said, matter of factly. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Did he? That needs to be remedied, do you not agree?”

                                              ~

Haldir felt Legolas stir next to him and grabbed the water skin by his leg. Gently lifting the younger elf into a sitting position, he held the skin’s opening to Legolas’ lips, carefully allowing only a small trickle of water to run into his mouth. Legolas swallowed, then reached both hands up to grasp the skin, trying to drink greedily.

“Careful, my friend! Only a little at first, and then you may have more.” Haldir allowed a little more water to flow into Legolas’ mouth before pulling the skin away. The archer’s eyes fluttered open and he stared at the Marchwarden, confused.

“Haldir?” he croaked. “What are you…?” Memory returned and his face twisted in grief. “Gimli.”

“Is very much alive, thanks to the idiot humans’ ignorance of dwarves,” the Marchwarden replied, giving his friend a slight smile. “He will have a vicious headache, but he will be fine.” He gazed searchingly at the younger elf. “I am much more concerned with you at the moment. How are you feeling?”

“Like orc dung warmed over and served on toast,” Legolas replied, grimacing as he tried to sit up.

“Lovely thought,” Haldir commented, making a face.  “Fortunately, you do not smell as such. You do, however, need to go wash the rest of the blood off.”

“Where is Gimli?”

“He is with the healer and I will take you to see him as soon as we clean you up a bit.”

                                                  ~

The children were abed, their stomachs full and their fears soothed, when one of the three scouts returned. He dropped to one knee before Thranduil and gave his news in rapid-fire elvish. The Elvenking’s expression was blank as he thanked and dismissed the scout. He stood, gazing off into the darkness for a moment before turning to his human guests.

“They have found Legolas and Master Gimli. Both are alive but injured and are in the care of my cousin’s wardens. The other two scouts will guide the wardens here when my son and his friend are able to make the journey.” Thranduil’s face was expressionless, and Mahri and Abrum exchanged a concerned look.

“How badly are they hurt, your majesty?” Abrum asked.

“Their injuries are not life-threatening, or the scout would have borne a message for me to accompany him back with all haste,” the Elvenking replied. He gracefully took a seat by the fire, staring moodily into the flames. Across the fire from him, Mahri removed the now-sated baby from under the shawl she had used to preserve her modesty while nursing. With the ease of much practice, she had the child changed and swaddled in short order. She gazed at her husband for a moment, and then at the king. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she addressed him.

“Your majesty, would you like to hold the baby for awhile?” she asked. He looked up from the flames, startled.

“It has been many years since I held a child that small,” he said softly. “Not since Legolas was that size.”

“It’s not something you forget,” Mahri replied with a smile, thinking that the similarities between the king and his son might go deeper than appearance in some ways.

“Very well,” he said, holding out his hands to receive the child. Mahri watched as he settled the baby in the crook of his arm in the manner of an experienced parent. The baby was awake and looking up at Thranduil with wide eyes. Unexpectedly, he chuckled.

“This one will break her share of hearts when she is grown,” he said, grinning his wry grin.

“Aye, I think she will at that, thanks to your son and Gimli,” Mahri said, smiling.

“That is the part that I do not understand,” he said, carefully controlling his voice and expression so as not to upset the baby. “I do not understand how anyone could abandon a child to the elements and animals.”

“We could never do it ourselves,” Abrum replied, “but I can see how some would think they had no other choice, although there are kinder ways to go about it.” Thranduil looked up, shock and the beginnings of anger evident in his expression. Abrum held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Too many mouths to feed already, or a child made by rape for instance.”

“Yes,” Mahri opined, “but if it’s to be done at all it needs to be done before the child’s born. There are herbs that can be taken to cause a woman to lose a child early, before it even shows, and before the child is fully formed.” She met the king’s eyes. “I’ve never done it, but I know those who have.”

“It is different for us,” the king said, patently sickened. “No elven child is unplanned or unwanted, and we have few in any case. Only the elves in my realm and a few in East Lorien have little ones in these days. Legolas had only two playmates and they were both older by several years.” His expression saddened further. “And they were both killed in battle before either of you were born, before your parents were born.” He looked back down at the baby, his expression softening as she wrapped her hand around his finger. He looked up again, his mood shifting with characteristic elven swiftness. “Mistress Mahri, you should take this opportunity to eat. You had only a few bites before you had to feed your youngest and Brenna.”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed that,” she replied, amused, as she picked up a piece of bread and a thin slab of cheese.

“My wife would get so wrapped up in Legolas that she often forgot to feed herself,” he said, his grin making a welcome re-appearance. “I reminded her often, and Legolas ended up on my lap in many council meetings while she ate or rested.”

“He’s a good ‘un, your son,” Abrum said, putting another log on the fire and handing his wife a piece of meat that had been cooked on a skewer over the fire.

“He is indeed,” the king agreed, lightly stroking a finger down the baby’s cheek. Her eyelids had grown heavy and he smiled again as he watched her surrender to her drowsiness. “Would that we had been able to have more; Legolas would have made a wonderful elder brother.”

“He’ll make a good father one day,” Mahri said, saddened at the echo of grief she read in the king’s face.

“Perhaps, if he wishes to,” the king replied. “My only wish has ever been for his happiness, whatever that entails. He is as happy as he can be for now, and I am grateful for it.”  Mahri brushed the crumbs of her meal off her skirt and he handed the baby back to her with a slight smile before rising and disappearing into the shadows.

                                                       ~

Legolas sat still, reluctantly allowing Haldir to wash the blood and grime from his upper body. His injuries had made moving painful and slow, and while he made a point of telling his friend how appreciative he was of his assistance, his fiercely independent nature made enduring it difficult. Haldir shook his head ruefully; his friend was notorious for being a trying patient and he could now report that he was even more so when the dwarf was injured.

“Patience, Legolas. He is going nowhere soon, I assure you, and he is in no danger.”

“Do not press your luck, Marchwarden,” the prince groused, scowling even deeper. “I do not find any of this to be amusing.”

“Calm yourself, elfling,” Haldir replied evenly. “I will tolerate no temper tantrums from you this day.” Legolas jerked away from him, temper truly flaring, but Haldir merely grabbed a fistful of the hair on the back of his head, carefully avoiding pulling the hair close to his head wound, and pushed the wet cloth into his face. “I said to calm yourself, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. You do yourself and Gimli no good by behaving like a child.”

Legolas’ spluttered comment was both creative and foul, suggesting that Haldir do something he was fairly certain was anatomically impossible, even for an elf. Haldir sighed, setting the cloth aside and shifting to kneel in front of the younger elf, his experience in commanding other warriors and in dealing with this particular one making it plain to his eyes what lay behind the fit of temper.

“Legolas, look at me,” he said, grasping the other’s chin and forcing him, albeit gently, to meet his eyes. “Gimli will be fine in a few days. Ithildur is a good healer. Both my brothers have looked in on Gimli for you, and they say the same. The sooner we get you taken care of, the sooner you will see this for yourself. Agreed?” The archer closed his eyes and sighed gustily.

“Yes, Haldir. I apologize, I should not take this out on you.” He looked up, trying to brush his hair, which Haldir had unbraided, out of his eyes.

“It is not often anymore that I see in you the child I once knew,” Haldir commented with deliberate casualness, picking up the cloth again and re-wetting it. “But, even though you are long grown, I would have you remember that you can still count on me to listen when you are troubled.”

“I made a grave error, Haldir,” Legolas said, his voice barely above a whisper, “and Gimli nearly died because of it. I did not think to ask the trees if there was more than one group of ruffians out searching. We were not prepared for two groups, and did not plan for it.”

“How could you have known to ask? You are far from perfect, my friend, and I am certain that Gimli would very quickly remind you of that fact,” Haldir pointed out, lips twitching in suppressed amusement. Legolas chuckled weakly.

“He certainly would.” The younger elf’s face twisted into a more than passable imitation of a dwarven frown. “‘Daft point-ear! What’d ya think? That you’re omniscient? The day you become one of the Valar is the day I sprout pointed ears and swing from trees!’”

“You are too good at that,” Haldir said, laughing. “I suppose he has said that to you in the past?”

“More than once, actually,” Legolas admitted ruefully. “He has a way of putting things into shockingly clear perspective.”

“As much as I am loath to admit it, he makes a great deal of sense. Though, I pray you, do not tell him I said that.”

“I will not if you will not,” the younger elf said solemnly.

                                              ~

TBC