Chapter 6

Disclaimer Pg-13 for violence and I think this chapter is kind of scary.—I don’t own anything in this except my own characters—plus actually I don’t own them, they own me. Meh.

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Return to Me, Chapter 6

"What was that ?" Galenparth demanded, his voice shaking with fear.

The horrid smell was back, choking us all with its intensity. Whatever this evil was, it was getting closer.

As if I was not already frightened enough, Fânwen’s eyes suddenly went as wide as saucers and her breath caught in her throat. Whatever it was, she had seen it. She quickly turned and shoved me as hard as she could, knocking me backward into a totally unprepared Legolas. She would have knocked us both down if Gloriavas had not sidestepped suddenly and caught us both.

"Go!" she screamed, which frightened me to no end because I had never heard her raise her voice before. "Into the trees! Now!"

Without hesitation Galenparth, Gloriavas, and Lalaithion made for the nearest tree, a huge monster that towered at least fifty feet above the ground. Legolas and I would have gone, as well, had Fânwen not begun to run in the opposite direction. We went after her.

"Fânwen!" I shouted. "Where are you going? Do you know what is it?"

All contempt she had for us was gone, replaced by adamant concern. "What are you doing?" she shouted back. "Your majesties must get to the trees! Faroth-yes met !"

"Who hunts us?" I demanded, but even as I spoke another ear-shattering scream resounded through the clearing and I knew.

I knew because Legolas knew. I had never encountered them, but of course I knew of them because of stories I had been told as a child. These were the kind of stories children tell to try and frighten each other, the kind one does not really believe until one sees it for oneself. Legolas, however, had seen them before on hunting trips in which I was not involved, trips near Dol Guldur, though he would not speak of them because they frightened him more than anything in the world. For Legolas to be frightened I knew something utterly terrible and evil had to be involved.

I felt my husband’s fear, his sheer and utter terror at the sound of that scream. He was so afraid that he could not even say the name out loud; he could only dredge it up from the pure horror it evoked within his heart. Shock and fear overwhelmed me; from the tips of my ears down to my toes I became freezing cold. I knew what it was before the thought even completed itself in his mind: Nazgûl.

"Please," Fânwen said in a lower voice. "Please Prince Legolas, take Sorayaiel and go into the trees. You will be safe there. I must retrieve Menellion."

Pure fear crossed my husband’s face. He stepped forward past me and grabbed her arm, wrenching her bow out of her hand. "There is not time. You must come with us."

She tried to shake him off but he gripped her hard and would not let go. "Please! I must find my husband!"

"I will not let you run to your death! You are coming with us!" Legolas screamed at her. He grabbed her forcibly around the waist with both hands and dragged her back the other way. He handed both her bow and his to me and shouted, "Go, Sorayaiel!"

I needed no other prompt. I turned and ran as quickly as I could, pausing momentarily to look behind me to make sure that he was following. He had wrapped his arms around Fânwen and hoisted her over his shoulder so he could run full speed. She was screaming all number of Sindarin obscenities at him, some of which I had never even heard before.

An enormous shadow passed overhead. What I saw when I looked up scared me so badly that I almost stopped running, and probably would have if Galenparth and Lalaithion had not started shouting my name from the tree in which they were situated. It was one of the Nazgûl, a ringwraith, a foul servant of Sauron who among other things had re-inhabited the tower at Dol Guldur and helped bring the darkness into Greenwood. It was a massive figure, clothed entirely in black robes so that I thankfully could not see its eyes. It did not have a face in the usual way that one thinks of faces, or so Legolas had told me after he had encountered the foul demons before, but it did possess eyes of molten flame so terrifying as to cause grown elven warriors to shake in their boots.

It was riding on some sort of fell beast, an enormous black creature that looked like a cross between a dragon and a very ugly bird, that radiated evil in waves off its back. It was this creature, I suspected in that fleeting moment, which was causing the nausea-inducing stench.

It was covered in black grime and dripped drool from its massive fangs. The creature’s eyes were enormous black orbs, searching the emerging light below for innocent elves to slaughter.

All this I saw in the fleeting instant it took for me to make it to the giant tree. I scrambled up into the thick leaves to join the others, looking down instantly to make sure my husband was still behind me. If he was not, I would be back down in an instant to help him, regardless of the danger.

He was there, still holding onto Fânwen with one strong arm, and climbing with the other. When he made it closer to where the rest of us were hiding he handed a now-limp Fânwen up to Gloriavas, who took her without a word, and hoisted himself up into the branches with us. He put a finger to his lips, as if we needed to be told to be quiet. I handed his bow back to him and he quickly notched an arrow to the string. Galenparth took Fânwen’s bow and reached around Gloriavas to retrieve some arrows from her quiver.

The wraith screamed again, eliciting a stifled sob from Fânwen, who had buried her face in Gloriavas’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair, silently comforting her. All my feelings of ill-will toward her had gone. My heart ached for her. Menellion and the others were probably hiding as we were, but I knew she was terrified she would never see him again. Almost involuntarily I glanced over at Legolas, who I knew was thinking the same thing.

He did not change his stance of pointing his arrow toward the sky, but looked at me somberly. Our eyes met in silent understanding; despite my overwhelming fear my heart filled with love for him, and hope as well. I knew that as long as he was there, as long as he was alive, he would not let anything happen to any of us. He would give his life for any one of us, as long as it meant that we would be saved. I just hoped it would not come to that.

"I love you, Celebithil ," he thought. It was almost a whisper but it touched every part of me, and for the first time since the sudden darkness had crept into the woods that morning, I felt as if perhaps we would get through this.

"I love, you, galad-o orë nîn ," I thought back.

The wraith flew closer and bellowed its unearthly scream again, followed by a chuffing roar from its black beast. It flew so close to the tree that the smell choked up my lungs and almost made me gag. I looked at the others who were fighting not to become sick as well. Even the tree was screaming at the rancid stench.

The wraith was so close that it seemed as if it would surely see us, and probably would have, had we not been wood-elves. Wood-elves, especially Mirkwood elves, were practically raised in the trees. We spoke to them, knew them so intimately that they were almost a part of us. When a wood-elf hid in the trees, nothing could spot them, except perhaps another wood-elf.

The wraith circled around several more times, then slowly flew out of sight and over the horizon. Gradually the smell went away, the birds resumed chirping, and the forest returned to normal. Six wide-eyed and shell-shocked elves breathed mutual sighs of relief. Slowly we made our way out of the tree. Gloriavas stopped at the bottom of the tree and placed his right hand over his heart and bowed at our large friend.

" Hannon-le, mellon nîn ," he said softly. "Thank you for protecting us." The tree sang in reply.

"And thank the Valar as well," Galenparth said. "Prince Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"Forgive me for asking," Galenparth continued hesitantly, concern in his blue eyes. "But why did you not take a shot at the creature when you had the chance?"

My husband glanced at the other blonde elf. "I was more concerned with getting Fânwen and Sorayaiel out of harm’s way. If someone else had had a bow, they could have taken a shot at the creature."

Galenparth, Lalaithion, Gloriavas, and I all flinched. It was seldom that Legolas reprimanded anyone; if he did it involved something of the utmost importance. We all looked away, eyes downcast. My eyes filled with tears and my face burned with shame. I knew the other warriors felt as stupidly as I did.

Legolas stopped and placed on arm on Galenparth’s shoulders. "However," he began. "You all behaved very bravely and I do not slight you for that. You followed my lead and did not question or hesitate about anything I said. I am not angry with any of you, in fact, I am proud and grateful to all of you."

Everyone smiled and relief washed over us all. "However," my husband continued, as he reached over and wiped a tear from my cheek, "From now on, no one goes anywhere without a weapon. Do you all understand?" He cupped my chin in his hand and looked directly into my eyes as he said this.

"Yes, your majesty," everyone muttered.

I said nothing, but stared up into Legolas’s face as he stared down into mine. He said nothing else to me for a moment, then suddenly and wordlessly pulled me into a tight embrace, right in front of everyone. He wrapped his arms around me as I buried my face in his chest and linked my arms around his back to let him hold me for several long minutes.

"Come," he whispered at length. "I am sure Nurhoth and the others are out of their minds." Our party began walking back toward the camp to find the captain and the others.

I looked over at Fânwen who was wiping tears out of her eyes. "My Lady," I said quietly. "Are Menellion and the others all right?"

"Yes," she said slowly, not meeting my eyes. "They are looking for us right now."

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "I am fine." She still would not look me in the face.

I stepped away from Legolas to walk at her side. I reached down and took her hand in my own; to my surprise she let me. The males saw this as some kind of subtle hint and slowed down to allow us to talk privately as we walked.

"I am sorry, Lady Fânwen," I said. "I am sorry if I have ever done anything to offend you, I did not mean to. I. . .I respect you very much and I do not want any bad blood between us."

For a moment, she said nothing. "It is my fault, Princess. I was very insolent toward you and the Prince, I hope you can forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," I said truthfully. I suspected that our encounter with the Nazgûl had done something to change Fânwen, something profound. As it was I had never seen her cry before; I had never seen this much emotion coming from her at all. I would not hold grudges or be angry about something so petty, especially after our lives had just been threatened.

She wiped another tear from her eye with the free hand that was not holding mine. "Look at me," she whispered. "I am falling apart."

"You are surely not," I answered. "Fânwen, it is not a crime to show emotion, especially right now. I believe everyone here cares about you, I know I do and certainly your husband does. You should feel free to express your emotion to us, whether it be fear or sadness or mirth. We are not going to judge you or treat you unkindly just because you have feelings."

She shook her head. "You do not understand, your majesty. I promised myself I would. . .Nevermind."

"What is it?" I asked, my brow furrowed.

She hesitated, then looked at me. Her large brown eyes were rimmed with salty tears; her beautiful face a rigid mask of utter sorrow. She looked down. "I promised myself I would never let this happen again. . . I promised you, Princess."

"What are you talking about?"

"Fear," she whispered. "I’m talking about fear. I had seen the Nazgûl before, nearly three thousand years ago. It was a night I never wanted to recall ever again. Because of my fear, several warriors died. Your mother and father died."

I stopped in my path and simply stared at her. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"I could not do what your husband did this morning. I was two hundred years old. We were near Dol Guldôr; your mother was already hurt. Your father asked me to get her to safety. The ringwraith attacked us, and I panicked. . .I was so frightened! Instead of getting Pellalómë to safety I stopped and fired at the beast and missed. Your father stepped in to aid me, and took the brunt of the attack that was meant for me."

I stared at her, vaguely aware that Legolas and the others had stopped behind us at the sound of Nurhoth’s shout from across the clearing. I could not speak.

She was uneasy at my silence and continued pouring forth her story. "From then on I promised myself, and I promised you, though I had never even spoken to you, the tiny elfling, that I would never let my emotions—my fear—get in the way of anything ever again. Not in fighting, not in anything in my life. And I have held to that, for almost three thousand years, until today. Until I saw that. . . that. . . vile creature again!"

She sobbed anew. For a moment I was stunned, and knew not how to react. Why had no one ever told me this? I searched my husband’s brain; he had not known either. All this time, I had thought Fânwen hated me, when it was herself she had hated. My heart was overwhelmed with pity and even love for this woman.

"Fânwen," I said, taking her into my embrace. "Do not blame yourself. The Valar did not believe that was your time to leave this world. It was my parents’ time, and there was nothing you could do about it. What was done, was done. I do not blame you for anything."

"You do not?" she asked, tears tracking down her cheeks.

"No," I said truthfully. "I only ask one thing of you now."

"What is it, my princess?"

"That you stop," I replied. "Stop shielding yourself from everyone. Be yourself. Live as you were meant to be. . .my friend."

She looked at me and smiled through her tears. "I think that I can do that."

"Good," I replied, smiling, as we embraced again. "Now, let us find your husband."

We found Nurhoth, Tasarë, and an extremely relieved Menellion who embraced and kissed his wife for many long minutes in front of everyone, and she let him. After we had recovered ourselves a bit, we located the horses and packed up to leave.

Just as Lady Fânwen was mounting her horse, Lalaithion walked up to her and offered her an apple. "For the Lady," he said, with an elaborate bow. He smirked slightly, but I could see the apprehension on his face.

Fânwen stopped in front of him and took the fruit, a very stern and almost nasty look on her face. I made as if to intervene and Legolas put out a hand to stop me. Fânwen opened up the apple and peered inside, only to have a sleepy little worm reach its head out and blink at her.

I winced, but to the delight of all, Fânwen laughed, a boisterous, musical sound that permeated throughout the camp. Everyone turned at the sound, as none of us had ever heard it before. It was beautiful, almost magical in its tenor, and made all of us smile. She slugged him with the fruit, which made all of us laugh as well.

"Very funny," she said good-naturedly. "Now I suggest you get on your horse before that poor worm comes looking for you for disturbing his slumber!"

"Yes, my Lady," Lalaithion said, giving another elaborate bow.

"And for Ilúvatar’s sake," Fânwen said, with a wide grin, "Do something with your hair, Lalaithion!"

Everyone laughed loudly. We finished packing and headed off, just as the sun fully arose in the sky. We had no more problems that day.

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1. " Faroth-yes met !"—"It hunts us!" —"Silver-moon"
2. Celebithil
3. " galad-o orë nîn "—"light of my heart"
4. " Hannon-le, mellon nîn "—"Thank you, my friend"

I hope the canon-police don’t come after me for having the Nazgûl here. I’ll label this AU just in case. I know they were in Dol Guldur for a long time, even after the Necromancer was discovered to be Sauron, so I would assume that some of the Mirkwood elves would have had experiences with them. I have messed with time a little bit, but I hope not too much. I have gone with Orlando Bloom’s estimate of Legolas’s age to be 2, 931 years old, though I do not know where he got that number. Therefore Sorayaiel is 4 years younger than he, at 2,927 years old. Fânwen is approximately two hundred years older than Sorayaiel so therefore it is possible for her to be there when Dûrborion and Pellalómë died.

I also realize that the Nazgûl were terrorizing the hobbits for part of this time, but we can estimate that this was a little before the incidents in Bree and the drowning at the Ford of Brunien. If this part of the story is totally off-canon or totally unbelievable I will try to change it in the final draft but right now I really like this how it is. Everyone please let me know.

Chapter 7

Disclaimer —PG-13—everything is owned by Tolkien enterprises; I’m just borrowing.

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Return to Me, Chapter 7

Several days passed uneventfully. We saw no more of the dreaded Nazgûl, though several times we ran into wolves and giant spiders. We had taken to sleeping in the trees, after one particularly tense night when Tasarë was awakened by a rather small spider (a spy, we believed) who had sneaked past that evening’s watch to take a bite out of the unsuspecting warrior’s leg. It had taken Galenparth nearly the rest of the night to get the poison out of poor Tasarë’s system, using athelas and several other strange herbs. After that, Nurhoth and Legolas forbade sleeping on the ground—we took our bedrolls to the trees (after thoroughly inspecting them for more arachnids), who gladly welcomed us.

We made our way down through the wood, following the river, to the Old Forest Road, taking care to avoid wildmen and anyone else suspicious. It was dangerous now, but had served the wood-elves for so long that we felt we could handle ourselves. It was also the most direct route to the mountains and Imladris. Once again, the trees would help us. We would just blend into the leaves until whatever danger threatened had passed.

As a matter of fact, things were so easy and uneventful that Nurhoth and Legolas became nervous. The mood most of the time was fair, light-hearted even, and the captain and prince shared these feelings. But always in the back of my husband’s mind there lurked an apprehension, an unease that this was the calm before the storm, that something ill would befall us ere too long. This was partly due to his being Thranduil’s son and therefore a little paranoid by nature, but it also had to do with experience in the deep forests of Mirkwood. It was seldom that a journey went completely well. I suspected that Nurhoth, Menellion, and probably Fânwen felt it too; Legolas was an accomplished warrior but even he did not have the years of experience that the older elves did.

Fânwen herself had brightened considerably. She was still quiet and reserved, but now interacted with everyone in camp including Lalaithion. She and I had come to a congenial understanding that, I hoped, would with time develop into close friendship. Indeed, my heart filled with joy every time I heard the music of her silky laughter echoing through the camp. Laughter was very becoming to her; it made her cheeks rosy and enhanced her ageless beauty.

Menellion too relished the changes in his wife. He smiled constantly and was quick to jokingly tease her. He became much more of the light and amusing fellow that we had seen glimpses of previously when his wife was not present. He also frequently tried to steal a kiss from her, much to everyone else’s delight and Fânwen’s gigglish embarrassment. Happily, most of the time she let him. Though she had always loved him unconditionally, she had had trouble showing him or allowing others to see it. Now that she had finally opened up, it was easier for her to show her devotion to him and did not mind if any of us saw it. I daresay she took example from Legolas and me, as well.

Legolas and I had always been very open with our affection for each other, ever since we had confessed our feelings to Nana and Ada all those years earlier. Obviously we would never do anything inappropriate in front of the others (beyond our only slightly embarrassing incident the first evening), but we now felt close enough to them as to not feel uncomfortable giving each other a quick kiss or loving embrace if the impulse came upon us. Anything more intimate we saved for thoughts and dreams, though I must admit that there were a lot of these on that long, long road to Imladris.

Our growing closeness to the others brought me great joy, which in turn pleased Legolas to no end. I quickly got to know each of our companions and genuinely liked all of them. Legolas did as well, especially with the captain. He looked up to Nurhoth and greatly admired his leadership skills. Nurhoth was a wonderful leader, strict and reserved, yet quite personable and quick to smile. It was he who began to spar with me, slowly teaching me how to use my father’s sword in a capable manner. I was still a novice at sword-fighting, even as the days went on, but the captain promised that he would continue to teach me, even after we returned home to Mirkwood.

Our other companions were equally as congenial. Tasarë was very loyal to Mirkwood and seemed very trustworthy. I was told that he was a great fighter, though thankfully we had not yet had to see him in action. He also loved to tell us stories of old and sang great ballads in his clear, sweet voice.

Galenparth became Lalaithion’s partner-in-crime, both of them sources of constant laughter and good-natured frustration. Yet Galenparth was quite serious when it came to the needs of others, especially when someone was hurt, as was the case with Tasarë and the spider.

Gloriavas was quietest of all of us, yet when he did speak, whether it was to relay the weather or join Tasarë in telling us a story of the deep histories of Middle-earth, it was so eloquently that even the trees were moved. He was also a wonderful listener, genuinely concerned with what other people had to say. He gave the best advice of anyone I had ever met, save my brother Arahil.

Gloriavas, in fact, reminded me so much of Arahil, from his quiet personality to his dark, dark hair and even his slightly-crooked smile, that my heart ached with missing my brother. This was the longest we had ever been parted, as every time I had ever gone on a trip previously, he had been there. I missed my Ada as well, and even my standoffish brother Mellossë, who I continued to worry about. When these moments overwhelmed me, I sought out Lalaithion for a laugh, Tasarë for a story, or Gloriavas or Fânwen for a long talk.

I did miss my family, and despite the reason for our journey, I still managed to enjoy myself for most of the trip. Above all I enjoyed becoming closer to Fânwen and looked forward to seeing Arwen Undómiel. Legolas was quite pleased that I was becoming close to everyone, but I was especially thrilled with the prospect of female companionship. It was true that there were ladies at court and in the palace, but I never became close to any of them. This was another reason why I quite hoped that Arahil and Mellossë would marry, though I knew that this would not happen for a long time, as Arahil was too shy and Mellossë was a bit too fond of comely maidens to bond permanently with someone.

As much as I loved my husband, Adar, and brothers, I desperately missed both my birth naneth and Nana Aranel, who had raised me to maturity and helped mold me into the elleth I had become. There are times when a female needs another female to talk to, and I had wanted this desperately for a long time. Arwen and I were friends; we communicated often by letters, but I had not seen her in person for many years. Thus I was ecstatically intrigued at the prospect of a friendship with Lady Fânwen, and began to harbor much hope for the future.

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Such was the state of things when the day finally came that we finished crossing the Misty Mountains. Legolas, Nurhoth, and Tasarë were constantly on guard, forsaking sleep to be on alert for wildmen, orcs, or Nazgûl, who could come from anywhere in these treacherous rocks. It was also slow-going with the horses; several times we had to dismount and lead them through the particularly hard passages.

Finally one warm evening we came through the mountains and made camp in a small grove of trees, as Imladris was still another three days’ journey. Morale was high, boosted by the thought that the hard part was over, and the even better thought of the feasting that awaited us. Though the reason for the meetings in Imladris was grim, we could still count on the House of Elrond to feed everyone well. Lord Peredhil prided himself on the warmth and hospitality of the Last Homely House and always provided food fit for kings. As tired as we were all becoming of lembas, this was quite an incentive to travel quickly.

It was this feast we were speaking of when finally I dismounted and rubbed Dîndal’s tired legs. I did not hear the conversation for several moments, as I spoke to the horse and removed my supplies from her back. We elves used no saddles but we did place a blanket and bags over our horses’ backs. I also gave her the now customary nightly apple. She took it from me, knickering affectionately, and went to join the other horses

". . . And mashed potatoes, smothered in gravy," Galenparth was saying as he lit a fire. "Mmm, I can almost smell them."

"How about those candied yams they always have?" Lalaithion asked.

"I am quite looking forward to Lord Glorfindel’s apple pie," Fânwen said. "It has been years since I have tasted it. . . he uses the ripest apples and it is sooo very good."

"Are you sure it is his pie that you are looking forward to?" Lalaithion said with a smirk and a raised brow.

Fânwen flushed crimson and did not answer, causing all the males including Menellion to laugh out loud. "I do not know what you are talking about," she said haughtily, making them all laugh harder.

Her eyes narrowed and it looked as if she might yell at them when suddenly Tasarë turned serious and said, "I hear something."

He walked to the western side of the camp. "Someone is approaching, not far away." He shielded his eyes from the setting sun.

"Orcs?" Menellion asked, squinting to look himself.

"Nay," Tasarë replied. "They appear to be nogothrim ."

Lalaithion snorted. "They certainly sound like dwarves," he said.

Indeed, they did. I was surprised that every orc from Dol Guldur was not pursuing them, for the racket they made. We could hear two members of their party of twelve arguing with each other, much to the apparent amusement of the others.

"Ai!" Legolas suddenly exclaimed, from my left side. Everyone turned to look at him. His voice was full of dismay and even disgust, two emotions I did not normally associate with my husband, as he said, "Look who is their leader."

I turned back to the dwarf-party and squinted against the sun. Instantly I saw that the leader was one of the arguers. He was riding on a small brown, bow-legged pony who looked utterly bored. The dwarf himself was square and stout, as all dwarves were, with a full, graying beard and an enormous helmet over his head. His callused hands held the reigns tightly as he sat full and assured in the saddle. He had the most enormous axe I had ever seen strapped to his back; it went up over his head. I recognized him instantly.

"That cannot be Gloin," I said breathlessly, shocked to recognize one of the thirteen who among other things had traveled to Mirkwood with the hobbit Bilbo Baggins some years earlier.

"Indeed, it is," Nurhoth frowned, his voice sounding every bit as dismayed as Legolas’s had.

I felt it too. It was true that there was usually much animosity between elves and dwarves, but things would probably be uncomfortable and downright hostile in Imladris if we met up with Gloin. Though Ada had apologized (and even proclaimed Bilbo elf-friend) for imprisoning the dwarves and hobbit, I doubted sincerely that any of the dwarves had forgiven him. It had been rather hasty to imprison them, but in Ada’s defense, those were trying times when strangers usually were not to be trusted, least of all thirteen dwarves and an odd little perian . Luckily Mithrandir had arrived soon after their daring escape to explain them; eventually the dwarves had even united with the Mirkwood elves and a force of eagles and men in a rather serious battle. From my previous experiences with dwarves, however, I knew that they were slow to let go of a grudge. I knew for sure, at least, that those dwarves were part of the reason that Ada Thranduil was thought to have such a temper— part of the reason, at least.

"They are headed this way," Galenparth noted.

Legolas shook his head. "This is not going to be pleasant," he said.

"Yes, especially since he seems to be in such a foul mood," I replied. "I wonder why they are fighting?"

"I do not know," Fânwen said, squinting harder. "But does not the one with whom he is fighting look odd?"

I looked more closely. She was right; there was something strange about the dwarf who was fighting with Gloin. This dwarf was still stout and round, but seemed softer somehow, despite the heavy armor present. It looked somewhat younger as well, with long, bushy reddish hair and piercing eyes, and no beard.

I heard Fânwen’s sharp intake of breath as she also realized what I had just seen. The dwarf was beardless! I had never seen a dwarf without a beard, so this could only mean one thing.

"It is a female," Fânwen said softly, the surprise evident in her voice.

Everyone started in surprise. "I have always been told that even their women had beards," Lalaithion said with a small chuckle.

"I had heard that as well," Nurhoth said, placing a hand on Lalaithion’s shoulder. "Though I doubted it was true. I am surprised to see her though—even I have never seen a female dwarf, not in all my years of travels."

We all marveled at this, I think. Between us there were nearly one hundred thousand years of life, and none of us had ever seen or heard of a female dwarf. Of course, though I am ashamed to admit this now, I must say that none of us had ever had any concern for dwarves, other than suspicion and hostility, to even care about the females of their race.

They were getting closer. I heard what I thought was the female’s voice; it was very gruff and sounded so much like a male dwarf’s voice that it was hard to tell. "Why am I allowed no weapon, Gloin?" She was demanding. "You give me no straight answers. Do you wish me to be killed?"

"Of course not!" Gloin exclaimed, indignantly. He sounded utterly exasperated. "It is just not right for a woman to be so armed."

"Not right!" The female’s mouth dropped open. "And I suppose you would think it right for your wife to be felled by orcs?"

His wife? I thought.  I felt Legolas shrug; he had not known Gloin was married either.

"She is right," a younger dwarf said harshly, riding up alongside Gloin and his wife. His hair and beard were reddish like the woman’s and he had her piercing gaze; I assumed they were related somehow. "Even the elves allow their women to learn how to defend themselves."

"Did I ask for your opinion, Gimli?" Gloin said, glaring at the younger dwarf, who bowed his head and allowed his pony to fall back a few steps—nearly falling off of the beast in the process. He was quite obviously not a rider.

"Besides," Gloin continued. "What else would you expect from elves? They let their women run rampant and do as they please."

"You are an imbecile," The dwarf-woman said, glaring at her husband whilst voicing the opinion that we elves shared with her. I saw the one called Gimli stifle a smile.

Gloin did not answer but muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Suddenly a white-haired dwarf cleared his throat and said, "Speaking of elves. . . "

We had been seen. A huge scowl formed on Gloin’s face; Legolas frowned. We stepped forward to meet them as they closed the distance between us.

"Greetings, Master Dwarf," Legolas said to Gloin as all the dwarves dismounted. He tried his best to sound friendly as he said, "I am Legolas Thranduilion." He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed to the dwarf, whose scowl deepened.

"I know who you are," he said rudely. "Though I doubt that the elvenking’s son would remember that I am Gloin, son of Groin."

"He remembers," Nurhoth said coldly, before Gloin could further insult the prince of Mirkwood. "As do we all, Master Dwarf. Pray tell us, what brings you this way?"

"We have been invited to Rivendell to participate in Lord Elrond’s council," Gloin replied. There was a provocation in his voice, as if he was daring us to question or challenge him.

In his head, Legolas cursed, wanting to do just that. Out loud he said, "As are we. It is a grave business that I hope will end quickly."

"Aye," Gloin said, begrudgingly agreeing. He then looked up to notice two of the less discreet members of our party regarding the dwarf-woman with much interest. "Is something amusing about my wife?" Gloin asked angrily.

"No sir," I replied, glaring at Galenparth and Lalaithion. "Forgive them, they have had little interaction with your people, particularly your women."

He snorted. His wife said, "I might say the same thing of your people. I am Glís, Gloin’s wife and daughter of Oin."

"Greetings, Lady Glís," I said, curtsying to her. "I am Sorayaiel Thranduiliel, wife of Legolas."

Introductions were then made all around, whereupon we learned that Gimli was, in fact, Gloin and Glís’s son. Glís was somewhat more hospitable to us, though I think she was doing it to spite her husband. I could see why it was that most folk could not differentiate between dwarf-women and men. Other than her beardless face, there was nothing about her that said "female." Her voice was every bit as deep and gravelly as her husband’s. She was built the same and carried herself in a similar manner. Even her breasts were hidden by all of the bulky armor she was wearing, which I supposed was to make up for her lack of a weapon.

On that matter I certainly agreed with Glís and Gimli: the female dwarf needed to be able to defend herself. I did not know much about dwarf culture, but I found it difficult to believe that they would allow their women to travel unarmed and defenseless, especially in these troubled times. I suspected that this was Gloin’s own policy; I thought it extremely stupid and selfish, and from the attitudes of his wife and son, I knew they agreed. Gloin was going to get his wife killed if he kept up with this chauvinistic attitude.

Of course it was not my place to say anything, so I did not. Indeed, after introductions, there was a very awkward silence. After all, what did dwarves have to say to elves, really, especially since two of those elves were the children of one who had done them a great wrong? Nothing, usually, beyond hostilities and insults. We did not want to be antagonistic now, as we would probably have to spend some time with the dwarves in Imladris.

It was Nurhoth who broke the silence. "Have any of your party seen sign of orcs?"

"Nay," Gloin answered, his brow furrowed. "Not even one time. There is something odd about that."

"Indeed, there is," Nurhoth agreed. "It unsettles me very deeply. Have you seen any other odd creatures? Something flying perhaps?"

Gloin looked even more puzzled. "No, we have not seen anything that flies, other than an eagle occasionally. My son once thought he saw a creature similar to the Gollum that Master Bilbo encountered, but I told him that this could not be, as your people have him captive and would not be so careless as to let him escape."

Not one of we elves said a word, but inwardly Legolas flinched. I felt utter dismay overtake him, as well as anger at the dwarf for pointing out something that both of us had overlooked: the reactions of Imladris to our loss of the captive Gollum. Was that how Lord Elrond and Mithrandir would view our loss of the creature? Would they think we had been careless? Uncertainty washed over Legolas: would they even be angry? And if so, what would he, as representative of our kingdom, do about it? I did not know what to say to my husband. I smiled slightly with what I hoped was a reassuring look; he made no response.

Gloin broke the second awkward pause. "Yes, well, I suppose we should be on our way. We got a late start today so I want to travel a few more miles before we rest."

Legolas thought (probably correctly) that Gloin just wanted to distance his camp from ours, but that was fine with him as it was with me, and, I supposed, with the other members of our party.

"Well then, navaer Master Dwarf; my Lady," my husband said, nodding to them. "I bid you safe journey, and we will see you in Imladris."

"Safe journey to you as well, Master Elf; Mistress," Glis said, nodding to us. I nodded back. Gloin muttered a brief "thank you" as his son gave a nod. The dwarf-party quickly mounted their ponies and set off, opposite the setting sun. We saw them set up camp about four miles ahead of us in another pass. The smell of pipe-weed and their fires drifted quickly into our midst; we did our best to ignore it.

We went about our business into the night, setting up watches and telling stories in the fading light as we ate dinner. Legolas was very quiet and did not take much part in the good-natured mood of the evening. He was very deeply troubled with what to say about Gollum and I suspected that this would only deepen as we got closer to our destination.

Just as it got fully dark I sat next to him on a log away from the fire, just outside the circle of our companions. I handed him a cup of tea and lay my head on his shoulder. "Do not worry, caun nîn ," I said softly.

He said nothing but his thoughts were tired and varied. We sat there for a few moments in silence; eventually his fingers became intertwined in my hair as he quietly pondered. I was used to this, for he often became pensive when he was upset. Usually we ended up in a similar position.

The great shout that interrupted our reverie was not usual, however—both of us jumped off of the log as if we had just been shocked. We turned to see the others as equally surprised as we were.

"What was that?" Lalaithion asked.

"It came from the direction of the dwarves," Tasarë replied, quickly climbing to the top of the nearest tree to see what it was.

A blood-curdling feminine scream and a heavy crash of metal and smoke resounded through the air as Tasarë gave a gasp. "They are under attack!" he said as he scrambled down out of the tree. "At least two hundred orcs, perhaps more!"

"What? Where did they come from all of a sudden?" Menellion demanded.

Nurhoth sheathed his sword. "I do not know. Douse the fire and let us go. Quietly now, we must make haste. Stealth shall be our advantage."

I pulled my bow from behind my quiver and fell into line behind Nurhoth, Legolas, Tasarë, and Menellion. Fânwen was behind me with Galenparth, Lalaithion, and Gloriavas bringing up the rear. We quietly sneaked into the darkness to aid the dwarves. I found myself hoping in my heart that the second panicked scream I had heard had not been that of the unarmed and unprepared dwarf-Lady Glís.

*****

Adar/Ada --father/daddy

Naneth/nana --mother/mom

elleth --elf-maiden

nogothrim --dwarves, dwarf-folk

perian --hobbit

navaer --good bye

Caun nîn --my prince

So it seems that Gloin is a bit of a misogynist, lol. This was where the AU came into play. Gimli makes the comment about few dwarf women and the movie Aragorn says that thing about "beards" but I figured that maybe those statements could be taken as a myth, considering that no one knows much about lady dwarves.

Also I didn’t know much of what elves would want in a feast. There was another thing that maybe no one caught that I still thought I should explain. Everyone in Middle-earth always says, "I’m so-and-so, son of so-and-so" so I figured it was appropriate for the women to do it, as well. So in Sorayaiel’s case it’s a bit complex. She wouldn’t go through the whole sordid family history, so to make things easier she would just say "Thranduiliel" which might confuse people because Legolas is "Thranduilion". It confused my roommate anyway. But my reasoning is that since they are married anyway, Thranduil is, in effect, her Adar, and it would be appropriate for her to say this without people who don’t know the whole history saying "Wait a minute, you are married to your brother?" Okay glad I explained that just in case.  

Chapter Eight

Disclaimer--I don't own anything, but borrow obsessively. I try to adhere to canon as much as possible, so if any players are out of character or anything is truly, horridly wrong, please let me know.

Rating--Pg-13 usually, though this chapter might be considered R, because of bloody battles, swearing, and naked elves at the end (are you intrigued yet? LOL).

Chapter Eight

My worst fears were confirmed as we quickly sped through the dark, covering the miles between our camps as quickly as our legs would carry us. Nurhoth silently placed us in a circular rotation in the highest trees surrounding their camp. I frantically searched the ground for the Lady, amidst the smoke wafting high into the sky, the shouts of the dwarves as they tried to figure out what was going on, and the death screams of dwarves and orcs alike.

Finally I located her cowering in front of an old oak tree, away from the others as if they had tried to hide her. She was holding onto her arm and sobbing as if her heart would break. Her face was a mask of terror, pale and contorted into a grimace that made her appear almost ferocious. In fact, she looked as if she desperately wanted to bolt, but the combination of her bulky armor and the paralysis of her sheer terror were apparently preventing her from doing so.

Her son was standing in front of her, doing his best to protect her against several orcs who had found their hiding place. Gimli was like a machine, hewing and chopping in all directions with his enormous axe, chopping off limbs and decapitating the monsters left and right. He was shouting in dwarvish to his naneth--what he was saying I did not know. Never once did he allow an orc to touch her, nor himself. I found myself developing much respect for the young dwarf; respect of course for his formidable fighting skills, but even more for the fierce protection and loyalty he had for his nana. I knew in that split second that he would not stop fighting until he dropped. He would die before he let anything happen to Glís.

Nurhoth surveyed the scene in a quick moment, then motioned for us to spread out in the trees. He raised his right hand, and as one we raised our bows. He sighted down his own bow and said softly, " Nauro! "

His voice was much too low for the orcs to hear, but we elves had no problem at all. As one we loosed our arrows into the thick mass of orcs, our nine arrows felling nine of the foul creatures. It took them completely by surprise; they scrambled to launch a counterattack, firing haphazardly into the trees from where our attack had come. Of course we were no longer there--their arrows hit only dead air split seconds before we let fly from our new positions.

We kept this up for some time, moving from tree to tree, never stopping for more than a moment, felling orc after orc. We moved too quickly for them to see us--it was dark; our green and brown clothing blended effortlessly into the foliage. Chaos and confusion reigned; their ranks began to fall apart as more and more of their comrades were slain.

The dwarves took heart from this, redoubling their efforts to drive back the marauders. With dismay I saw that several of them lay dead or dying. I could not see Gloin anywhere among the fracas and found myself hoping that he was unharmed.

An elvish cry of pain and dismay snapped my attention back to my companions. Instantly my husband's name came to my lips; he gave a quick passing thought to let me know he was all right.

Gloriavas had ended up closest to me. "I think that was Lalaithion," he whispered dejectedly, squinting to see in the gloom. We watched as Nurhoth and Galenparth reached down to grab Lalaithion, pulling the injured elf higher into the trees.

I began to offer a silent prayer to Elbereth for the injury to be slight, but my words were interrupted by a muffled scream. I spun around to see that Glís's hiding place had been breached. Gimli was locked in combat with an orc three times his size, frantically trying to get away from it to stop the other one that was advancing on his mother.

I could take it no longer. I ran through the treetops, with Gloriavas close on my heels. I got close enough to the two dwarves, put away my bow and leaped from the tree, reaching into my quiver to retrieve my long-knives as I did so.

"Milady!" Gloriavas whispered severely, jumping out of the tree after me. He still had his bow and shot through several orcs as I sliced my way to the dwarves' hiding place.

I advanced upon the one whom by now had caught Glís and was straddling her on the ground. Gimli screamed as the orc viciously attacked his mother's face, breathing its foul hot breath on her skin whilst trying to strip her armor off with one hand. The other hand pinned her arms to the ground. It said something to her in the horrid black speech of Mordor, something I did not understand and did not wish to. She screamed and kicked frantically, but the monster was too much for her. If I did not reach her right now, the disgusting yrch would rape her right in front of her son.

My mind flashed instantly to Lord Elrond's wife, Lady Celebrìan. Was this what it had been like for her in the attack? The look on Glís's face told me that just the touch of the creature's skin was repulsive. Celebrìan's attack had been so severe that she had gone almost immediately to Valinor, as she simply could not live with the pain and memories of her violation. What would it do to Lady Glís, whose spirit and stamina, as a dwarf, were even weaker?

I would not find out, especially since my next thoughts were of my naneth. I did not know what the orcs had done to her on the day of her death so many years ago, nor did I want to know. Rage welled up in me like a foul black demon, filling up my head with enough darkness and blood-lust as to startle Legolas, across the camp. I rudely and forcibly pushed his consciousness aside in my brain and concentrated all of my thoughts and energy into helping the dwarf woman. As a warrior and especially as a woman, I would not, could not let this happen to her.

I rode the wave of anger, feeding upon the wrath like a vampire as I quickly and quietly crept up behind the evil creature--I had absolutely no qualms about attacking the bastard from behind; in fact I thought he rather deserved to die such a dishonorable death. My seething rage came to a boil as I grabbed the orc around the shoulders with my left arm. I held his head in a vice-grip and before he could even react, my right hand sliced his throat so deeply that I almost severed his head from his neck.

I could not help it; I let out an instinctively guttural and decidedly un-elf like grunt of satisfaction as the foul thing's steaming blood splattered across my face and tunic. I looked up to see Gloriavas staring at me wide-eyed and surprised, and realized that I must have looked utterly mad. I did not care. I completely ignored him as I kicked the slumping orc as hard as I could, knocking the corpse off of Glís.

"My Lady, are you all right?" I asked as I knelt beside her.

For a moment she only sobbed, then nodded. "My son?"

In my wrath I had completely forgotten about Gimli. I looked up just as he finally slew the massive beast he had been fighting, chopping an expansive blow to the creature's chest whilst bellowing dwarvish words of triumph. As soon as he had discerned that the creature was dead, he wrenched his axe from its chest, sending chunks of gore flying in all directions, including into his beard.

"I think he is all right," Gloriavas said, clearing his throat, as Gimli rushed over to us.

Glís grasped my hands. "T-thank you," she said simply. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hands back. "Do not think on it, mellon nîn . Are you injured?"

I looked up to see Gloriavas with a smile in his eyes. He was amused about something, that was clear, but what it was I did not know. Was he still chuckling at Gimli, or was it because I had referred to the dwarf as my friend?

"I think that I am all right," Glís answered. I helped her to sit up as Gimli reached us. She winced. "I fell down earlier and hurt my arm."

"It is all that damned armor," Gimli said. "It weighs you down too much." He knelt beside his mother and removed her giant helmet and breastplate, tossing them aside. He looked at her for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her in a fierce embrace. He looked at me over the top of her head, saying nothing. His tears said everything. I smiled at him.

"Let us get her out of here," Gloriavas said as another loud boom resounded through the forest.

Something suddenly burst through the trees to my right. Gloriavas stiffened and would have shot at it had it not shouted to us first. " Cauneth !" It was Tasarë. "We need help!" He jumped into a tree.

"We are coming," I replied. I helped Gimli get Glís up into the oak tree, then began to follow Tasarë. "Stay close," I said to the dwarves.

I heard Glís whisper, "I told you they would come to help us!" followed by a grunt from Gimli.

We jumped from tree to tree, helping the dwarves along until we got back to our companions on the other side of the encampment. Galenparth was putting a salve on Lalaithion's arm whilst trying to prevent him from jumping back down into the fray. The others were on the ground, knives and swords out, making a stand beside the remaining dwarves and their axes. I was surprised to see Legolas fighting alongside Gloin, shouting encouragement as Gloin's axe found an orc's face. My husband spun around quickly to dispel another whilst yet another came up behind him. Gloriavas took aim and fired, taking it through the neck.

"We are still completely outnumbered," he said disdainfully.

"Well then, let us help our comrades!" Gimli exclaimed, jumping from the tree to crush two orcs below. He rebounded swiftly and began to chop through them.

Tasarë had already rejoined the battle; Gloriavas jumped down as well. "Glís, stay here with Lalaithion," I said. "You will be safe--"

"I am not staying here," Lalaithion snapped.

"Yes, you are," Galenparth said firmly. "You were lucky that the arrow only grazed you, but you need to rest that arm."

"No, I do not!" he cried, indignantly, wincing in pain even as he did so. "I am fine!"

We did not have time for this. "No, you are not. You will sit here with the Lady until we can get away from here safely," I said sternly.

"I am not a novice!" he said angrily. "I can handle myself! I will not stay up here with this-this dwarf !" he spat.

The anger welled up in me again, frightening me this time with its intensity. I would not tolerate this insubordination, nor did I have the time or patience to deal with his prejudices. I counted to three, trying to get myself under control, to no avail. "You will do as I say," I said, my voice deepening, though I did not raise it.

He must have seen something in my eyes, or perhaps my gruesome appearance frightened him, because he immediately backed down. "I will stay here," he said dejectedly. "But I must insist that she be given a weapon."

A reasonable request, one that did nothing to soothe my ire. I did reach into my boot to retrieve my dagger, handing it to Glís hilt-first. "Kill anything that does not identify itself," I said, in the same frightening tone I had used before. I nodded to Galenparth, who was staring at me with widened eyes. He nodded back to me quickly and jumped from the tree. I followed right after him.

I jumped directly down into a mass of orcs and realized immediately that Gloriavas was right. My knives flashed in every direction; I killed one, two, five, ten, yet they still kept coming. I did not even have time to wipe the blood from my eyes as it sprayed on me.

I soon found myself back-to-back with my husband. There was dark blood in his disheveled golden hair and a long streak of it down his face; his tunic was also torn but he looked nowhere near as grisly as I did. His eyebrow flickered with amusement--was he actually enjoying all of this?--but he knew better than to say anything to me.

" What are we going to do ?" I thought, in between blows.

He slashed and parried. " I know not. There are far too many of them for us to defeat ."

Nurhoth was suddenly beside us, decapitating an orc easily with his sword. "Highness, we must get out of here!" he shouted. "The dwarves have suffered losses and Lalaithion and Fânwen are injured."

Alarms went off in my head as the rage, which had never really left me, flared up to the boiling point again. I knew Lalaithion would be fine, but what had happened to Fânwen? The fury overtook me again. " I will kill them all ," I thought madly, " if they touched her ."

Legolas stared at me. "Calm down, meleth ," he said softly. It scared me, because I knew that he was alarmed and trying to downplay it.

Nurhoth must have seen the look on my face, though his own was impassive. "She is all right," he said. "Menellion got her out."

I was relieved but still angry and concerned. I knew Fânwen would be upset, and I hoped that the progress we had made with her would not now be undone.

I did not have much time to think on this as we were assailed again. I deflected an attack to my right as Legolas buried his knife in an orc's head, to my left. They were closing in on us. Soon all the elves and dwarves stood back-to-back, fighting desperately, running out of room to move.

Arrows suddenly flew from a tree behind me. "Ai, Lalaithion!" I heard Galenparth mutter with dismay.

The orcs reacted immediately to this distraction, quickly firing a volley of arrows at the tree. "The fool!" Galenparth spat. My heart sank; I prayed that they had not been hit, but knew it was unlikely.

For a moment I was just as confused as the orcs when a flood of arrows flew at them from the other side of the clearing. Literally hundreds of them hit, sending the orcs flying into a scattering panic, now allowing us room to move. A horn sounded loudly. At last the unadulterated fire that had consumed my soul fled my body and was replaced by a surge of joy.

"What is that?" a grey-haired dwarf asked.

" That is a Rivendell elf-host, and a rather large one, by the sound of it," Gloriavas answered, happily.

 Something happened then, as elves leapt from the trees and rode in on dark horses, something that I never thought would happen between edhil and nogothrim : the dwarves cheered and shouted words of welcome--and were answered with cries of "Mae govannen !" and kind words of greeting. It was the greatest and most encouraging sight I had ever seen.

A dark-haired rider on a speckled horse sliced and chopped his way over to us with his sword. I recognized his handsome features even before the broad smile lit up his face all the way to his grey eyes. " Suilad , Elladan!" I exclaimed as he dismounted.

" Mae govannen, mellonath nîn !" he cried, embracing me heartily. "We thought perhaps you could use some help." He looked me up and down with an arched brow. "You certainly look it."

All around us orcs were meeting grisly ends as Elladan's company of seventy quickly dispatched them. The ones who remained began to flee, pursued ardently by archers on horseback. Another loud cheer arose from all the company.

Legolas stepped forward to greet Elladan. "Where is your twin?" he asked, as they embraced.

"Oh he is around somewhere," the son of Elrond replied with a smirk.

Sure enough, Elrohir emerged a few moments later, escorting Fânwen, Lalaithion, and Glís with him. "I thought I would pick up a few stragglers," he said with a grin. The grin widened as he caught sight of me. "Ho, Lady Greenleaf, you look terrible."

I glared at him. "At least I can wash it off. You do not have that option."

Everyone laughed including Elrohir. We knew that things were much more serious than our lightened moods belied. Thankfully, Fânwen was not hurt too badly, just a small gash on her head and a sprained ankle. To my tremendous relief, she was not even that upset, but still frustratingly remorseful.

"I am sorry," she said. "It was a stupid error in judgment, I--"

"Do not worry," I said, pulling her into a sisterly embrace which she graciously returned. "Do not blame yourself for anything, as you tend to do entirely too much! I am just glad that you are all right."

"It is I who must apologize," Lalaithion said quietly. "I am sorry for my insolence, Lady Sorayaiel, and I am sorry that I disobeyed orders."

"You are forgiven for that, but there is something else you must apologize for," I said, gesturing toward Lady Glís.

For a moment he looked at me as if I had two heads, then realized what I meant. He turned to Glís, who was standing with her husband and son on either side of her, and knelt down in front of her. "I apologize, híril nîn , if I offended you in any way."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are already forgiven," she said with a smile.

Lalaithion hesitated a moment. "It was an honor to fight alongside dwarves," he said, meeting the eyes of Gimli and Gloin. I was instantly proud of him, as was my husband. I knew it had taken a lot for him to say that. We had come to the dwarves' aid without hesitation, but it did not mean that our suspicion or prejudice against them had gone. Lalaithion had proven that. But for him to swallow his pride and admit something like this, it was a big step.

"That it was," Legolas agreed reverently, stepping next to Lalaithion and placing a hand on his shoulder. For a moment everyone was silent, until my husband grinned. "Now, get up, mellon nîn . I have seen enough of this serious side of you and I do not think I like it."

Everyone laughed as Lalaithion rolled his eyes and stood. "Yes, I know what you mean, Prince Legolas. Now that Lords Elladan and Elrohir are here, I have competition, and I must…prepare." He bowed to all and walked away. Now that was the Lalaithion I knew, and I was surely glad he was back.

Plans were made to assess the damages to the dwarf-camp and figure out what to do with the rest of the night. Three of their company had died and the dwarves were devastated. They moved slowly through the camp, picking through orc corpses and debris to find their belongings, as the Imladris elves helped them to sing a lament to their fallen friends.

We Mirkwood elves made plans to go back to our camp and retrieve our horses and supplies, and then we would merge all three camps into one. Before we could leave, however, Glís and a very dour-looking Gloin approached Legolas and me.

Glís nudged her husband, who cleared his throat, looked down and said, "Lady Thranduiliel?"

"Yes, Master Gloin?" I asked.

"I would like-I would like to thank you for saving my wife. I don't know what I would have done if-"

"If she had died?" I replied, raising my eyebrows. "Do you not think that this may have been prevented?" I asked, hoping I was not overstepping my bounds. "By this, I mean that if she had been armed properly, she may not have become stuck in such a compromising position."

"I realize that now," he said gruffly. "From this incident, and by the request of my son, she will begin training in Rivendell."

"Good," I said. "You do not have to say anymore. As for me, I did what anyone would have done. And I-I believe I would now consider your wife a friend. I do not let my friends get hurt."

Glís smiled a tear in her eye. "Thank you, my friend," she said, stepping forward to embrace me. I returned the hug, smiling warmly at her. After a moment she turned, smiling at Legolas, who smiled back at her. She took Gloin's hand and went off to help the others.

I turned to Legolas, who had watched the entire event with a wry grin on his fair face. "Gloin thanked you," he said slowly, counting on his fingers. "You went berserk and slew more orcs than the rest of us combined, and you have befriended an dwarf-maiden. Adar will never believe it."

"No one will," I said, laughing. "Especially the part about Gloin thanking me." I scratched at the dried blood on my face. "Ai, may we find somewhere to wash before we travel back to the camp? I am starting to itch."

"You are starting to smell, too, my love," he said, wrinkling his nose.

I hit him in the arm, evoking light laughter. "You are becoming quite ripe yourself, Greenleaf," I replied, leaning in to sniff at his blood and sweat-stained tunic.

We found some clothes to borrow and made our way to a stream. There were other elves and dwarves in it but we managed to find a secluded spot where we might have some privacy. I did not hesitate, but stripped off my soiled and heavy tunic and leggings and immersed my entire body in the frigid water. When I stood up it came up to my chest, my wet hair flying in all directions. Legolas came in right after me, immersing his face in the water quickly and flattening down his hair with water.

"You know, it is almost a shame," he said, regarding me thoughtfully as I used the soap to scrape the dried blood from my face. "Actually, I rather liked you looking that way."

"What are you talking about?" I asked as I began to lather up my hair.

"When you were fighting. This is the first time I have seen you in such fierce combat, spinning around with your knives flashing in the moonlight. I must say, I found it rather, ah, fetching."

Was he crazy? "Are you sure you were not hit by a poisoned arrow?" I asked, glancing at his bare back.

He chuckled. "No, I was not. I am talking about the way you move. There was so much grace in your step as you parried; it was almost like a dance, and the best part was that you were not even conscious of it. I saw such focus and determination in your face. And your hair was whipping out behind you…Even in the midst of battle I can still find you…exceedingly attractive."

"Even covered in blood and dirt and overcome with murderous rage?" I asked, only half-joking.

"You are quite comely when you are angry, my dear," he said with another grin. "I do not think I have ever noticed it before."

I frowned at him. "That is because I have never been that angry, not ever. I do not know what came over me."

"I know," my husband said softly, taking the soap from me to run it through his hair. "You thought of Celebrìan."

"I did," I confessed. "And my mother. I do not know what was done to her, and I cannot bear to think of it. I could not let it happen to Glís."

He stopped and placed his hands on my now-clean face. "I am proud of you, Celebithil ," he whispered. "You did a noble thing, which was perhaps helped along by what I would call 'righteous anger.' Do not be like Fânwen and deny your emotions. As you have just discovered, they can often be a good thing."

I regarded him warily. I knew he was just saying this to reassure me--he had been alarmed and perhaps even frightened at my odd outburst of anger. I still did not know whether it was a product of the battle, at seeing what could have happened to Glís, but I hoped this was the case. I hoped that it would never happen to me again.

I did not want to fight with him, so I decided to just be quiet and let him comfort me. "Why do you always know the right thing to say?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Because I am perfect in every way?" I glared at him. "Ooh, are you going to get angry? Please, get angry. I want to see it again!" he said laughing, sounding like an excited child.

I hit him again. "No, I am not angry, you silly elfling." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as he laughed again and bent down to wash his legs. "Perfect in every way, indeed," I muttered.

"Yes, that is me," he said, beaming mischievously as he had done so many times over the years.

I cocked my head and regarded his lithe, graceful form as he bathed. "Well maybe not in every way, but certainly in some ways." He looked up, his mouth open in mock surprise as my own grin widened suggestively and my eyes traveled over his whole body. "Yes, in several ways I would say."

That got the furious blush I had been aiming for to spread over his face. I laughed silently and said, "Come, husband. I think we are clean enough." I began to emerge from the stream. He came out a moment later. We dried and dressed, then met up with the other Mirkwood elves. We found our horses and belongings, then rejoined the others in the combined camp.

I slept like a rock that night on the ground in my bedroll, with my husband's arms around me. I was so grateful to the Valar that we were all alive and unharmed, full of delight in friends new and old, and hopeful that our stay in Imladris would be pleasant and quick. It was a nice way to be.

********

Nauro --fire

Mellon nîn- --my friend

Cauneth --princess

Meleth --love

Edhil- --elf

Nogothrim-- dwarves/dwarf-folk

Suilad --greetings, hello

Mae govannen --welcome, well-met

Híril nîn --my lady

********

Chapter Nine

Disclaimer—no money is made from my endeavour to entertain you with my probably bad attempts at imitating Master Tolkien.  I do it for enjoyment only, and boy do I ever. 

Rating—PG-13 nothing bad in this chapter at all though.  Probably more PG

Here in this chapter we FINALLY arrive in Imladris.  I know I could not have postponed it any longer.  This is a discussion-heavy chapter, sorry, no shoot-em-up this time, but there’ll be a lot more later.  Expect lots of familiar faces from here on out.  Now we are finally getting into the action of the story.  Nine chapters in.  Meh.

Oh and any discussions or mentionings of things in the past (specifically in the scene with Bilbo and Legolas) are referring to things that will happen in the prequel to this story, part of which is up now under the title In the Garden.  Sorry for the shameless plug but I thought I should explain that a little in case someone read that and wondered what was going on.

Chapter Nine

The next morning arrived with the sun high in the sky.  I had slept well after the exhausting events of the previous night.  I woke up feeling greatly refreshed and quite anxious to get to Imladris.

Great enough were the numbers of the Rivendell-host that none of the dwarves or Mirkwood elves had been needed to keep watch.  In fact, they let us all sleep in.  When I awoke, Legolas was of course still deeply asleep, as were Fânwen and Menellion close by.  Elladan and Elrohir, however, were up and supervising the packing of supplies, looking as if they had been awake for hours. 

After braiding my hair and making myself presentable in my extra tunic, I made my way over to the sons of Elrond.  “Well, good morning, sleepy head,” Elrohir laughed.

“It is a good morning,” I said, with a smile.  “Thank you for letting us sleep late.”

Elladan raised a dark brow.  “Then I would guess you are in a more pleasant mood than last evening?”

“Yes,” I replied.  “Very much so.  Actually, I want to apologise for my uncouth behaviour.  I let my anger take control of me and I know it was inappropriate and unbecoming—“

“On the contrary,” Elladan said, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.  “You were quite becoming, in my opinion.”

“Oh yes, I rather enjoyed it also,” Elrohir said, laughing again.

I just stared at them.  I was beginning to think that all of the males in my life had gone insane; this thought was even stronger a moment later when Legolas walked up, placed an arm around my waist and said, “Good morning, my lords.  I see you have already met my wife, the fiercest and most beautiful orc-slayer this side of Dol Guldur.”

The twins laughed at the fierce look I gave my husband.  “Yes, we were just discussing the lady’s fighting skills,” Elrohir said.

“Or something like that,” Elladan said, with a wink. 

Legolas laughed, knowing very well what we had been talking about. 

“I am glad you all think this is so amusing,” I said, not really angry with them but wanting to stress how serious I thought this was.  “I admit it helped me in the battle, allowed me to save Glís, but it was a bit frightening and frankly, I am a little concerned.”

“Like I said last night, I would not worry about it right now, dear,” Legolas said, squeezing me tighter.  “I do not like to see you so troubled, but at this moment we have bigger concerns than your anger management problem.”

“Also, if it really concerns you that much, perhaps you should speak to Adar when we get back to Imladris?” Elrohir suggested. 

That sounded like a perfect idea to me.  If anyone could put my mind at ease about this, it would be Lord Elrond.  “I think I will do just that,” I replied, smiling.

“Now that is what I like to see,” Legolas said, kissing my cheek.

An hour later everyone was awake and ready to go.  We set off for Imladris, nearly eighty elves and the nine remaining dwarves composing the largest travelling party I had ever been involved with.  It was a perfect day for travelling, sunny but not too warm, with a pleasant breeze to ruffle the horses’ hair.  There was no sign of the few remaining orcs; indeed, the closer we got to Imladris, the more I could feel the protection of Elrond’s Ring over the valley.

The rest of the journey was pleasant and uneventful, most of it spent riding alongside the twins, catching up on things, including several extremely interesting bits of news we had known nothing about.  We also told the twins of our frightening encounter with the Nazgûl.  They were shocked and horrified, because they had been scouting for them for some time, to no avail. 

“So where is Estel?” Legolas asked, soon after the journey had started.  “I am surprised he did not come with you.” 

Elrohir’s face clouded.  “Adar sent him after the halflings.  Mithrandir was supposed to meet them in Bree but since he was incapacitated…” He trailed off, sounded very worried.

Elladan finished his thought, though he sounded equally concerned.  “They had not returned for several days, and since the Nine are abroad, naturally Adar is upset.  He sent Lord Glorfindel out to look for them, the last we heard.”

“Good,” I said.  “If anyone can find them, he can.” 

“Yes, that was Adar’s thinking,” Elladan said.  He sighed.  “Though it does not help to ease the anxiety of any of us.” 

“I can imagine,” Legolas said, glancing at me.

“I cannot remember the last time Adar was so worried,” Elrohir said.  “Arwen is nearly beside herself, as well.” 

“Oh yes,” Elladan continued with a half-smirk.  “Our sister is near to ripping her hair out when our scouts come back each night with no news of her beloved.”     

“Her what?” Legolas and I said at exactly the same time.

Elladan turned on his horse to stare at us for a moment.  “You mean you do not know?”

“Aragorn and the Evenstar are betrothed,” Elrohir said. 

I could not help it, my mouth dropped open.  Fânwen, who was riding to the right of me, snapped her head around suddenly to look at Elrohir.  I think she was trying to see if he was joking, which for Elrohir would not have been an odd thing.  Legolas just stared at the younger of the twins. 

After a moment my husband cleared his throat.  “And when did this happen?”  he asked. 

Elladan thought for a moment.  “Nearly forty years ago, now,” he finally answered.  “Estel went to see Arwen in Lothlórien.  Remember she was staying with our grandparents for a time?” 

Legolas nodded. 

“Well, he went there to see her.  Apparently they confessed their love for each other, and are betrothed.”  Elladan shrugged. 

“What-what does your Adar think of this?” I asked slowly. 

Elrohir sighed again.  “It is complicated,” he said.  “He is not happy about it, but at the same time, I think he is pleased.” 

I understood exactly what he meant.  I expected that Elrond would be very conflicted by what was happening.  He would of course be very upset that Arwen had pledged her love to a mortal, for each time this had happened in the past it had ended tragically.  However, part of Elrond would be pleased that she had chosen Estel.  Estel had been raised in their household after his mother’s death.  He was like a third son to Lord Elrond, one of the Dunedain, and, as he had so recently found out, the heir to the throne of Gondor.  He was the direct descendant of Isildur himself, he who so long ago had made the fatal mistake of not casting Sauron’s evil Ring into the chasm of Mount Doom.  Most of all he was a good man, a brave man, who had loved his foster-family with a kind of fierce pride and loyalty.  Yes, I could see how complicated it was.

I sat on my horse in a bit of shocked silence.  Why had Arwen mentioned nothing of this in her letters?  For nearly forty years, she had spoken not one word of it.  Estel too had said nothing.  He had just been in Mirkwood earlier in the year with Mithrandir to entrust Gollum to us.  They had stayed for three days, but in all that time, even during our late nights of stories and discussions, he had said nothing. 

Legolas’ mind was whirling as well.  However, in addition to being a bit surprised, he was also a little angry with Arwen and Estel.  I found myself agreeing with him.  After all, we, of all people, would have empathized with them.  Our situations were alike in many ways.  Estel had fallen in love with his foster-sister, just as Legolas had fallen in love with me.  Their situation was a bit more complex than ours, yes, but we were no strangers to the predicament and had had to figure out how to deal with our own family.  I was actually a bit hurt that they had not at least told us, let alone come to us for advice.  I pondered this for a few moments, making up my mind to ask Arwen about it when we got to Imladris. 

I shook my head to clear my rambling thoughts.  The mood had sobered considerably which was a very peculiar thing to occur in the presence of the twins.  I decided to try and rescue our playful mood of a few minutes before.

“So,” I began.  “Arwen has found someone, but have either of you?” 

The utter speed with which the blushes spread over their faces made me laugh out loud.  Legolas too grinned and Fânwen smothered a smile. 

“Err,” Elladan said, clearing his throat.    “Not-not exactly.”

Elrohir was more direct.  “No.” 

“Why ever not?” I asked, with a grin.

 “Because…well…BECAUSE,” Elladan said, going even redder. 

This time we could not help it.  Legolas, Fânwen, and I laughed.  Menellion, to Fânwen’s right, grinned broadly.  “It looks like you have trodden into a sensitive subject, my Lady,” he said.

“Indeed, it does,” I replied, with a smirk.  “Elrohir, are you as offended as your brother?”

He shrugged.  “No.  I am just practical.  Believe me, my brother and I do not have a shortage of attractive, available maidens at our disposal—“

Legolas snorted.

Elrohir ignored him.  “—But we choose not to bond with any of them because we are too busy.  I do not think it would be right to wed someone when I am not at home for much of the time.” 

That made sense.  Still, he was being awfully haughty about it, and Elladan was offended and bordering upon angry.  For these reasons alone, I knew that the teasing would not stop.  Once we got to Imladris, Lord Glorfindel would probably join with us, though he too was in the notoriously available bachelor’s club.  We all rather enjoyed teasing the twins, especially because they spent so much time playing pranks on people and trying to cause good-natured upset to all.  It was just that they put it out better than they took it, which we all found endlessly amusing. 

For the moment I dropped it, after another grin and a wink from Legolas.  He too kept silent, knowing all well what awaited us during the Imladris visit.  I smiled back, glad to see him in good spirits after the events of last night.  He had said no more of the matter, but the problem of what to say about Gollum was there, shoved into a corner of his mind.  He was very worried about the implications of the loss of our captive would be, not only for Mirkwood, but for everywhere else as well.  So was I, but for the moment, we again decided to focus on the here and now, which was decidedly pleasant and easy-going; it did not need to be interrupted by disagreeable thoughts.

********

The next two days passed almost uneventfully, as we descended from the mountains into the fertile valley of Rivendell.  The daylight was spent on horseback, catching up and even gossiping.  The nights were spent around a fire with entertainment abounding in the form of songs, stories, and a hilarious moment when Lalaithion tried to out-drink the grey-haired dwarf.  The dwarves had brought along some of their famous ale, and kindly offered it to everyone.  Most of the elves wisely declined.  We could handle our wine quite well (though I daresay Ada was a bit too fond of the Dorwinian), but ale was another story altogether, especially dwarven ale.  It was very potent, especially to those who were not accustomed to it.  Lalaithion learned his lesson quickly, as the dwarf easily bested him without even a hint of drunkenness, even whilst Lalaithion fell so deeply into a dead snore that he slept with his eyes closed.  We all had a good laugh at his expense, even more so the next morning when he awoke with a splitting headache and a disposition even worse than a Balrog with a toothache.

I spent most of my time in the company of Fânwen and Glís.  They liked each other right away.  Legolas began to call us “partners in crime” because we were together so much, laughing and talking.  It fell into a sort of pattern, a very comfortable, easy relationship I enjoyed very much.  It was as if Fânwen and I had known Glís our whole lives.  She was easy-going and good-natured, and as I found out, several years younger than her gruff husband.  I found myself wondering several times how she had ended up with Gloin, as their personalities were vastly different, but when I noticed the look in her eyes when she saw him, that look of utter devotion, longing, and love that I knew all so well, I understood. 

They were as madly in love with each other as Legolas and I were, and like us, did not care who knew it.  They were very affectionate with each other—Gloin was even playful with her.  Whenever they were together they were always holding hands or kissing.  It made me smile just to be around them, especially when I caught Gimli smiling at them also. 

Gimli was complex.  His fierce love and devotion to his parents and the other dwarves was quite obvious, but he was just as impolite and even gruff as his father.  Half the time he communicated in grunts or did not answer at all.  He was polite enough to the elleth in our company, especially to me (which I suspected had something to do with my helping his mother in the battle), but he was still rather standoffish and even arrogant to others.  I heard several elves grumbling about his attitude.  He even rubbed Legolas the wrong way; my even-tempered husband who got along with everyone.   He wanted very badly to like Gimli, to get along with him and communicate with him, but the dwarf was difficult.  I hoped the situation would improve once we reached our destination.

********

We reached the furthest guard tower from the city during the afternoon of the third day.  Elladan had a messenger ride ahead to relay our safe arrival.  After that the going was smooth and very fast, everyone very eager to finally arrive at the Last Homely House.  As we reached the stables and dismounted, I heard Tasarë’s stomach grumble quite audibly. 

“Someone is hungry,” a deep voice came from behind me as I helped a groom lead Dîndal into her stall.  I turned around quickly only to see the Lord himself standing there, a small smile present on his ageless features.  He stood in robes of blue and white, his arms folded, his hair pulled away from his face.  A sense of awe seemed to overtake everyone standing in the stables.  Ada was intimidating and ageless himself, but he did not possess the sense of melancholic awareness that Lord Elrond did.  Elrond’s grey eyes betrayed endless amounts of what his impassive face could not: endless amounts of thousands of year’s worth of experience.  Much of that experience was mired in grief; it far outweighed the happy times.  A living legend stood before us; we were taught as toddlers of Elrond and his mortal brother Elros.  His parents had played an enormous part in the epic of the Silmarils.  Elrond had been at the Last Alliance to witness the death of Gil-galad and council Ada when his own adar Oropher was slain. 

In his eyes I saw the departed Celebrían, the love of his life, she who had been so lovely and kind to everyone she knew, including the naughty princes and shy princess of Mirkwood, whom she had visited with so often.  In just that split second I found myself missing her, wishing she too was there to greet us.  How devastated my own Nana had been when Celebrían had sailed.  How devastated we all had been to lose such a beautiful perfect creature.  I saw in Elrond’s eyes that he still missed her every day.  He was biding his time until he too could sail, to be in Valinor with his beloved.

His daughter Arwen stood next to him, utterly luminous in a flowing pale gown, her dark hair contrasting perfectly with its color.  Elrond glanced at her, and I saw even more in his face.  I saw the fierce love and devotion that had always been there for the one who so resembled him, but I also saw another bit of melancholy.  My earlier guess had been right.  He was very glad that Arwen had chosen someone, but he very much disagreed with her choice, though he loved Estel with all his heart. 

As I had remarked many times before upon seeing the Lord of Imladris, I was glad that I was not in his place.  I did not know how one person could stand everything that he had been through, everything that he would probably go through yet, and still be as confident, regal, and kind as he was.  He genuinely cared about all creatures of Middle-earth, including Men, whom many elves wanted no quarrel with.  He carried all this great weight on his shoulders with no complaints or regrets.  I respected and admired him more than I can even say, as every person that I have ever known has also.  All this came from one look into Lord Elrond’s eyes, one glimpse into his soul. 

“I think we are all hungry, my Lord,” I said, stepping forward.  All elves in our party greeted Elrond and Arwen in the formal manner, then Legolas and I stepped forward to embrace them. 

“It has been much too long,” Arwen said, hugging me tightly and smiling.  Over her shoulder I saw Gloin step forward with a rare smile on his face, to embrace Lord Elrond. 

“Aye, it has,” I replied.  “It seems you have much to tell me.”  I winked at her and she colored slightly. 

“Yes, after you have all eaten and been refreshed,” Lord Elrond said.  “I am sure you are anxious to get out of those travelling clothes.”

“We certainly are!  Ugh!” Fânwen replied, eliciting a laugh from the whole group. 

Elrond turned and gestured to someone I had not noticed before, Erestor, one of his head councillors.  “Erestor, will you please show the Greenwood party to their chambers?” 

“Yes, my Lord,” Erestor said, smiling as Legolas came forward to greet him. 

Our party began to follow Erestor as Lord Elrond took the dwarves in another direction.  As always I marvelled at the intricate open architecture of the city.  Mirkwood’s palace was actually carved into a cave, but it was still a palace.  It did not have the sense of peace and home that Imladris had. 

“So Erestor,” Legolas began as the elf showed everyone to their rooms.  “Any word from Lord Glorfindel or Estel?”

“I am afraid not,” the dark-haired elf replied, with a sigh.  “There has been no word at all for days.   Lord Elrond is beside himself.  I believe he is going to send the twins out again tomorrow, after they have rested.”

“I hope they find them soon,” Fânwen said softly. 

“You mean you hope they find him soon,” Lalaithion said, smirking. 

“Stop it you two,” Menellion said before his wife reacted in a rash manner. 

Even Erestor smiled at all of this.  He probably saw it all the time, I mused.  In my mind’s eye I could see plenty of maidens swooning over the blonde elf-lord.  Erestor probably teased him endlessly, not that he did not deserve it.  Still, I of course hoped he was all right.  Glorfindel of Gondolin, the mighty Balrog-slayer all little elves learned about almost as soon as they could walk, was a mysterious, jovial elf who almost rivalled Lord Elrond in age and experience.  I was confident he would return, hopefully with the hobbits and Estel all in one piece.  If anyone could find them, it was he. 

Erestor took everyone to his or her rooms, Legolas and I last.  We were staying in the same chambers we always stayed in, just down the hall from the twins and Arwen.  This got us into trouble many times when we were small, as the temptation to sneak out at night had been too great to resist.  I had usually slept in Arwen’s room whilst Legolas and my brothers had slept in this room, but usually the boys woke us up in the night to get up to mischief.  Now that we were older and married, the familiar room had been converted to accommodate us.  A double bed replaced the twin beds that had once occupied the room.  There was a small closet and a vanity to place our things.  A door to the left led to our washroom, where someone had already brought up a fresh tub of water for us both.  Doors led to a balcony overlooking the practice fields and archery range.  It was a nice, homely room, one in which we always felt welcome. 

Erestor left us to our own devices, promising dinner in an hour.  I could sense how tired my husband was, because I was also.  Legolas went immediately to the bed as I began to unpack our things.  He sat and untied his boots, pulling them off with effort and wriggling his toes afterward.

“I think my boots are too small,” he said with a grimace.  My feet are killing me.”  He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes for a moment. 

“We will get you a new pair,” I said as I hung up his formal robes in the closet.  “You should wash now, they want us in an hour.” 

He sat up slowly with a tired groan.  “Do I have to, ‘Nana’?” he whined, grinning.

I picked up a pillow and hit him with it.  “Yes you do, now get in there so I can go after you.” 

“Who says you have to go after me?” he asked, raising a brow mischievously, leaning forward to place his elbows on his thighs.  “There is enough water in there for two.” 

I regarded his face a moment.  It had been a long, long trip and a very long time since we had been alone like this, but at the moment, practicality should reign.  “Darling,” I said carefully.  “I am exhausted and so are you.  If we both go in there together, we probably will not make it down to dinner, and considering the circumstances, I do not think that is such a good idea.” 

His face took on a look of mock-hurt; he knew I was right but could not resist teasing.  “Why do you have to be so practical all the time?” 

“Because one of us has to be!” 

He laughed, shaking his head as he stood up.  “You are right, as usual.  Come here.” 

He drew me into his tight embrace and I allowed him to kiss me lightly.  He knew I was teasing him as much as he was teasing me.  If there was a practical person the world, it was he, and we both knew it.  He had done many irrational things, especially when he began trying to court me, but a more practical elf, one could not find.  He was jovial, mischievous and rotten sometimes even, but he took ceremony and duty very seriously.  He was very practical when he knew more pressing matters were at hand, but he teased me because he knew I enjoyed it and he knew I would do it to him right back.  I supposed this was something that kept our relationship healthy.  I knew that before Fânwen’s emergence back into society, Menellion had not dared ridicule or tease his wife in any way, and their relationship had been strained and tense to the point of exasperation.  Now that she was more open and all right with it, I had begun to see them being more playful with each other, more teasing and fun.  And now that we had entered Imladris and would eventually find out just how grave the world’s situation would become, they needed these moments; we needed them.  Little things like this would keep us sane. 

I reached up to smooth some hair out of his face, smiling as he smiled back.  Then I swatted him on the backside with the pillow I was still holding, making him jump slightly.  “Go, and hurry up so I can wash too.  I feel filthy.” 

“Yes, ‘Nana’,” he said again, then bounded into the washroom. 

I shook my head and finished putting away our things, only slowly because I knew he would take forever freshening up.  He always did—he was worse than a maiden that way.  He got it honestly though: Ada was worse than he and Mellossë was close.  I could remember a banquet at home once, when Nana, utterly exasperated because a male blonde of the house of Oropher occupied every washroom in the house and our guests were arriving in twenty minutes, had purposely tipped over a candle in the foyer and set some curtains on fire.  She ran through the palace screaming “Fire!  Fire!” at the top of her lungs, scaring Ada and his sons so badly that they ran out of the washrooms in towels and nothing else with soap still in their hair.  During the confusion that ensued, she, Arahil, and I were able to run into the washrooms to get ready whilst naked Ada, Legolas, and Mellossë pounded on the doors, the fire having been just a small flame that was put out in less than a minute.  Needless to say, the three had attended the banquet that night with wet hair and nasty tempers, as Nana, Arahil and I had to stifle laughter and endure their glares all evening. 

“That was definitely not funny,” Legolas yelled from the washroom, sloshing in the tub. I laughed out loud. 

********

Miraculously, Legolas was ready to go an hour later and so was I.  He had dressed in his forest green formal robes, his hair braided expertly on the back and sides, done by me of course.  I was back in a gown, and very glad of it.  I had been getting very tired of my travelling tunic, especially since the battle with the orcs had left me without a spare.  It was getting rather nasty, so I was quite glad to be back in my pale green formal dress with my hair pulled up off of my neck.  The bath had been so wonderful I had not wanted to leave, though of course duty called.

As we walked out of our chambers, I linked my arm with his.  We went slowly, admiring the emerging stars outside as well as the calm voices in the trees.  Someone was always singing in Imladris, singing beautiful, melancholy songs of the days of old.  It was another little thing I looked forward to every time we traveled there.

We were just outside the dining hall when I heard someone start behind us in surprise.  “Well bless my heart,” came the soft voice. 

Legolas and I both turned to see a very short creature no more than three feet tall, with whitening hair and a slight stoop to his small form.  He was leaning on a cane, shuffling his hairy, bare feet as he came toward us.  His trousers ended just below his knees, giving us an even better look at those feet.  A broad smile played across his creaked features, giving him a wizened, gentlemanly look that quite suited him, considering who he was. 

“Bilbo?” Legolas said, a smile immediately filling his face. 

“Master Legolas, my lad, yes it’s me,” Bilbo Baggins said with a little laugh as he crossed the distance and bear-hugged my husband so hard that Legolas gave a little “oof” before bending down to embrace the hobbit himself. 

“You look wonderful!” Bilbo said.  “Even taller and more handsome than the last time I saw ye, I swear.”  He chuckled at Legolas’ blush, then turned to see me.  “Well praise be the stars in the sky,” he said, a hand over his heart.  “Might this vision of loveliness before me be the Lady Sorayaiel?” 

“It is I,” I said, with a smile and a little curtsy, blushing at his gallantry and flattery.  “It is wonderful to see you, Master Baggins.” 

“Not as wonderful as it is for me to see you, I’d reckon,” Bilbo said.  “Has this husband of yours been up to any rascally mischief since the last I saw you?  I remember my last trip to Mirkwood your father wasn’t very pleased with you.” 

Legolas and I laughed.  Last time Bilbo had seen Legolas had been the day he had departed from Mirkwood after the Battle of the Five Armies to return home to the Shire.  Ada had been furious at Legolas for some rash actions committed during the fighting and had not bothered to take it out on his son in private.  Bilbo and I had tried to warn Legolas beforehand not to evoke Ada’s wrath, but in a rare moment of irrationality he had not listened and had to suffer the consequences, which I must say were a little amusing to Bilbo and myself, though definitely not to Legolas.  The incident had endeared Legolas to Bilbo ever since.

“For the most part, he has managed to keep himself out of trouble,” I replied, winking at my husband, who rolled his eyes at me. 

Bilbo laughed his loud, boisterous laugh.  “It is nice to see you two with a sense of humor.  It is sometimes lacking around here, I am afraid.” 

He sounded sad, and it was then that I realized how tired he looked.  The last time I had seen him, nearly sixty years ago, he had been very young seeming and full of life.  Now he looked old, weary, and sad.  I did not know why, until Legolas thought of the Ring.  He guessed that the Ring had made Bilbo stay so young and vital, wreaking its influence over him until he had somehow given it up.  Neither of us knew how, though we supposed it would all come up in the council. 

“So Mirkwood has old Gollum, eh?” Bilbo asked, though neither of us knew how to answer.  “I’ll bet your parents are pleased about that.  Though your mother probably thinks he’s cute, if she’s anything like she was when I met her.  How is the queen, by the way?” 

Legolas and I glanced at each other.  He looked away from both Bilbo and me, hesitated, and said, very quietly, “She sailed.  Nearly twenty years ago.” 

Bilbo started and became very pale.  “Oh.  I…I did not know.  I-I’m sorry.  Forgive me for—“

“It is alright, Bilbo sir,” I said, smiling a little.  “You could not have known.” 

“Still, I—“

“Speak of it no more,” Legolas said, shaking his head.  “You did nothing wrong, Bilbo Baggins, except mention my beloved naneth and speak fondly of her, which makes me like you even more.  And you spoke the truth, she probably would have found that loathsome creature  ‘cute.’” 

Bilbo chuckled.  “Oh yes, your mother was a sweet lady, most definitely.  She was very hospitable to the dwarves, I remember, so I can see her treating Gollum the same.  Yes, I can imagine it as if it were right in front of me.” 

Legolas smiled, though inwardly he winced, wanting desperately to get the conversation away from Gollum as soon as possible, as he still had not figured out how to broach the subject of his escape with anyone. 

Luckily he was saved as the dinner bell rang.  Bilbo gestured for us to go through before him, so Legolas took my arm again and led me inside.  Bilbo spotted Gloin and his whole face lit up again as it had when he had seen Legolas.  He bid us goodbye for now and went off to greet the dwarves.  Glís caught my eye as we watched Bilbo run over to them; she smiled and waved and I did the same. 

Erestor came to show us where to sit.  “I see you got to speak to our little house-guest?” 

“Yes,” I replied.  “May I ask why he is here?”

Erestor smiled.  “Master Bilbo is writing a book, he says, about his adventures.  He wanted to retire here so he might have access to our library.  I also daresay he wanted to spend his remaining days in this place where he had many fond memories.” 

Legolas voiced his earlier thought, though in a low voice.  “So he has given up the Ring then?”

“Yes,” Erestor said, looking more serious.  “It has gone into the care of his nephew Frodo.  It is he whom Aragorn has gone to find.”

Now I understood why Glorfindel had been sent out to find Estel and the hobbits.  I think normally Lord Elrond would have trusted the man’s ranger skills to get them to Imladris, but in these circumstances, it sounded as if they needed the elf-lord’s extra help.  Things seemed much more dire than they had sounded when we arrived, especially since no one had heard from any of them for days. 

We took our seats, Arwen, Legolas, and I to the left of Lord Elrond and Erestor to his right, with three empty seats between them.  I assumed that two of them were for the twins, but whom the third was for, I did not know.  The Mirkwood elves sat to Legolas’ left, with Nurhoth directly beside him.  The dwarves and Bilbo sat across from us at another table.  The rest of the tables were filled with Imladris elves.

Lord Elrond stood, which immediately hushed everyone in the room.  “Welcome friends,” he said, his strong voice carrying very clearly across the large room.  “I know that we are gathered here under less than desirable circumstances, but I hope this evening will find everyone well and in good spirits.  This meal is to welcome our friends from distant lands to our humble home of Imladris.  We would like to welcome Prince Legolas Thranduilion and Princess Sorayaiel Dûrborioniel Thranduiliel and our cousins from Greenwood, who have arrived today.” 

He paused as we acknowledged his greeting.  “Also arriving today with the Greenwood party were a contingent of dwarf-folk from the Lonely Mountain, led by Gloin, son of Groin, and his wife, the Lady Glís. As you may know, the dwarf-party was attacked by orcs several days from Imladris, and lost several members of their party.  Through this sadness, though, their people persevere.  I would like to welcome this party to the Homely House.  Though I cannot ease the pain of your loss, I can promise you a peaceful and safe stay in Rivendell.  I hope you will rest here and find peace, mellonath nîn, and may the Valar keep you always.” 

I could see that Lord Elrond’s words had moved the dwarves; Glís even had tears in her eyes.  Even here in Imladris there were elves that did not agree with dwarves and did not want them here.  I could see in the dwarves’ faces gratitude and respect for the elf-lord.  It seemed as though they would find peace in Rivendell, and I was not the only one glad of it. 

“I would like to welcome you all to the Last Homely House.  I trust you will all take advantage of anything you see fit to make your stay comfortable.  ‘Our house is your house’ as I am told they say among men.”  He allowed a small smile to flit across his features, and then became serious again.  “For now, let us eat.” 

He sat down as servants began bringing out food and drink.  I smiled down at the other Mirkwood elves, whose faces were bright and eager for the bounty being laid before us.  Lalaithion looked as if he wanted to jump into the bowl of mashed potatoes that Galenparth passed him, whilst Gloriavas grabbed the squash with gusto.  Legolas piled his plate high and I admit I took more than my fare share also.  Lembas only goes so far. 

A moment later Elladan and Elrohir entered, fashionably late as always, eliciting a frown from their adar.  They sat down and piled up their plates also, after waving at us.  There was still an empty chair between Elrond and they. 

The person who was to sit in the chair entered several moments later, sparking a hushed whisper amongst all those gathered in the dining hall.  The extremely tall figure, clad entirely in grey with a long beard and eyebrows so large that I never knew how he could see past them, took off his pointed hat, revealing a rather large and recent gash along his forehead, and hung it across the back of the chair, easing himself down into it slowly with a big grin on his face. 

He nodded his head to Elrond and Arwen, who whispered, “He just arrived, not ten minutes after you did.” 

“What has happened to his head?” I asked. 

Arwen shrugged.  “I did not get to hear everything he said to Ada.  I know he was in Edoras, and I thought he went to see Saruman.  But I am not sure.” 

I nodded.  If Mithrandir had in fact taken Radagast’s advice and gone to see the head of the Istari, that was good.  Perhaps Saruman had promised to help with the situation.  But where had he received that nasty cut on his head?

Mithrandir accepted the plate of beans from Elrohir with a quiet “thank you” before speaking to Legolas.  “So I trust the journey from Greenwood went well, young Thranduilion?” he asked in his booming voice. 

“For the most part,” Legolas said, glancing at Nurhoth.  “Other than the Nazgûl.” 

“Ah yes, I heard about your encounter with the wraith,” the wizard said.  “I heard you did quite well.” 

Legolas gave Nurhoth the barest of glances again.  “I did what training would have me do.” 

“And in this case, it worked very much to your advantage,” Mithrandir replied, biting into some corn.  “Though I trust someday you will discover that even training cannot prepare you for all situations.” 

Neither of us knew what he meant, and from the look on Nurhoth’s face, he did not either.  Mithrandir suddenly changed the subject, as he was wont to do from time to time, and I found I was relieved.

“Lord Elrond, have you decided what to do about the council?” he asked.

“I have,” Elrond said.  “As much as it chagrins me that Lord Glorfindel and Aragorn have not yet arrived, I think we must get under way.  We are losing time; I can feel it.  As much as it pains me, I have decided it will be held seven days from now, on October the twenty-fifth, whether they have arrived or not.”

Arwen was looking down at her plate as if it were the most disgusting thing she had ever seen.  I touched her hand quickly and a weak smile appeared on her face. 

“Everyone who is to be involved will be told tonight,” Elrond continued, as Mithrandir nodded.  

I figured that definitely meant Legolas, or Lord Elrond would not have discussed this in front of us.  I felt anticipation well up inside my husband, eagerness as well as apprehension.  He said, “Lord Elrond, if I may, I would like to speak to you privately some time before the council.  It is a matter of utmost importance.” 

“I would be glad to speak to you, Legolas, though I trust it can wait until after tonight?  I can see how weary you are.” 

“Thank you, Lord Elrond,” Legolas replied, a little relieved.  He wanted to think about how he was going to tell Elrond about Gollum before he had to actually do it. 

The rest of the meal was spent speaking of good times, talking and laughing with old friends.  After we were finished, Arwen promised to meet me the next day for lunch, as we had much to catch up on and discuss and I was much too tired to do it this evening.  I also promised to meet Glís the next day.  Fânwen and I were going to show her around a bit.  She had never been to Imladris before and found herself utterly lost every time she turned around.  She was also to start training that day, and Fânwen and I wanted to practice a bit with her. 

All the Mirkwood elves made early exits, as soon as courtesy would allow.  I noticed Tasarë’s eyelids drooping several moments before Gloriavas roused him and they both made their exits.  Legolas and I of course had to stay a little longer, out of protocol, but eventually we were able to go back to our chambers before we fell asleep at the table. 

When we got back to the room, it was very dark, but the moon shone right into our window, illuminating Legolas as he stripped down to his underclothes and, without bothering to put on a night tunic or undo his hair, fell into the bed with a massive sigh and was completely asleep within seconds.  I did manage to get into my nightgown, but did not bother to pull the shades as I lay down beside him.  Instead I let the glow of the moonlight soothe my tired body as I slowly drifted into dreams. 

********

Elleth—elf-maidens

Mellonath nîn—my friends (that plural may be wrong, not sure)