Chapter 1.  Leaving Minas Tirith

The sound of voices, one melodious and the other slightly rough, drifted up from the garden below his window, catching Erestor’s attention as he recognised Legolas and Samwise discussing the finer points of gardening.

“Some of Arwen’s favoured elanor would do well in this particular bed,” Legolas was saying as he picked up a handful of soil and allowed it to fall through his fingers, testing the texture and quality in the manner not unlike that of a Hobbit gardener. The unexpected action both surprised and pleased his companion.

“Aye, I agree, but if you do not mind me saying so Legolas, I find it strange that a warrior who is also the Elvenking’s son would know as much about gardening as you do,” commented Sam. The silvery sound of elvish laughter echoed through the garden.

“Why Samwise, are you not also both a gardener and a warrior?” the Elf asked.

“Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I am, but to be honest, I feel far more comfortable wielding a hoe than a sword,” agreed Sam with a sad smile, recalling the simpler days of his life as Frodo’s gardener.

“No doubt you will do just that when you return to your gardens in the Shire,” Legolas said as he placed a comforting hand on his companion’s shoulder. “As for being Thranduil’s son, well that only makes my love for all that grows in Eryn Lasgalen even stronger. Adar is deeply tied to the spirits of the forest and they are also much a part of me and we live for the beauty of nature in our home just as the plants and trees thrive in the light of the Wood elves,” he explained.

“So it appears, judging by the wonders you have already wrought with the gardens in the city. Did you know that many of the people of Minas Tirith claim to be able to see the trees, flowers and even the grasses begin to flourish as you walk among them?” asked Sam sounding as if he also believed such was the case. It was obvious to Erestor’s keen eye for reading body language that the Hobbit did in fact believe it to be true.

“Perhaps it is merely that they are responding to my songs,” replied Legolas his eyes dancing with amusement at the fanciful gossip. While it was true that the gardens were beginning to thrive, it was not entirely his doing. To his mind, the defeat of Sauron and the lifting of the shadow from Middle-earth certainly had a vital role in the renewed beauty that was apparent in all that grew in the city as well as in the surrounding countryside.

“I certainly enjoy hearing you sing, and I daresay so do the trees.  I hope your lovely songs enliven that wild area over yonder where many of the plants are brown and withered,” Sam commented as he and Legolas moved towards the untamed growth in question.

“It certainly presents a challenge. I think much of it is beyond saving, but I do see a glimmer of green amongst the brown, so all is not lost,” he said as he carefully pulled some of the dead weeds aside to expose the struggling plant to the sunlight. He whispered a few soft words in elvish and Sam could have sworn the leaves reached towards the Elf’s outstretched fingers, seeking a caress. He was just about to say so but held his tongue when he noticed one of Arwen’s hand maidens enter the garden. The young girl was assigned the task of providing fresh flowers for her lady’s chambers and was carefully selecting the most beautiful blooms to add to the large bunch of flowers she carried in a small hand basket. Sam smiled a greeting to the young maid who he had met many times as he strolled through the gardens in the early morning.

 “Good day Merilwen,” he said pleasantly.

“Good morning, my lords,” said the girl with a respectful curtsey, keeping her eyes downcast. She had become accustomed to the ever cheerful Master Samwise, but had never been this close to one of the beautiful and elusive Elves who were in the city for the King’s wedding.

“Legolas, I do not believe you have met Merilwen,” said Sam as he gently tilted the maid’s chin so that she was now gazing directly into the Elf’s eyes.

“I… I… am p...pleased to m…meet you, my l…lord,” she stammered even as she blushed prettily at the unexpected introduction to the handsome and mysterious Elf.

“My name is simply Legolas, and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said kindly, the softness in his voice easing the girl’s nervousness.

 “I believe those are some of your lady’s favourites,” Sam said indicating the bunch of flowers she held. “Perhaps Legolas would be kind enough to help you find something the King might also enjoy.” It was a perfectly innocent suggestion, although flavoured with a hint of teasing and Erestor did not fail to see the sigh of resignation that passed Legolas’s lips.

Even though the Elves had kept much to themselves during their stay in Minas Tirith, none could fail to notice that King Elessar’s close friend was the object of many a young maiden’s fancy. “Much to Legolas’s chagrin apparently,” mused Erestor as he watched the scene unfold to reveal that the maid was far too shy to accept the offer.

“Please excuse me, but I have other tasks to attend to now,” she said, curtseying once more before turning to head back indoors.

“Another time perhaps,” replied Legolas gallantly taking her hand and kissing it lightly as if she was a lady of high station.

“Legolas has certainly inherited his sire’s charm, has he not?” asked Glorfindel who, with the familiarity allowed only to him as a close friend,  had entered the chamber unannounced and joined the dark haired Advisor at the window, curious to see what had captured his friend’s interest.

“He has, but he is not the only charming Elf who attracts the maid’s attention,” commented Erestor with a pointed look at the fair Balrog slayer who accepted the compliment with a smile.

“Well, it is not the fluttering eyelashes of the maidens that interest me this lovely day. I came to invite you to accompany Elladan, Elrohir and me on a ride into the countryside. We tire of seeing naught but the stone walls of this city,” said Glorfindel with an exaggerated sigh of boredom

“I believe it is more likely all three of you wish to avoid Galadriel setting you some menial task in the preparations for Arwen’s wedding,” replied Erestor with a tinge of hurt in his voice that did not go unnoticed by his friend.

“Ai, you are certainly the astute one, my dear Erestor. Yet if I am not mistaken, you are also offended that it is the lovely Lady of the Golden Wood and the new King’s staff who are organising the happy event whilst you are not.”  Erestor merely nodded in agreement at Glorfindel’s eyebrow raised in query.

“You know me too well, Glorfindel, but I think that I feel sorrow and a sense of loss more than offence.” Erestor’s slumped shoulders were testament to his grey mood.

“Why?” asked the voice of a concerned friend as the seneschal gently led Erestor to one of the two armchairs, and then poured them both a glass of wine from the carafe that stood on the table between them.

“Do you realise that up until now I have organised every major event in the lives of Elrond’s children? I prepared the feasts, sent the invitations and saw to the decorations for every begetting day, and their majority celebrations. Now, as one of the most important days in Arwen’s life approaches, it saddens me that my participation is required only as a guest. I would have taken great delight is arranging the wedding feast for our sweet Undomiel.”

“I know, but my dear Erestor, you ARE a guest in Minas Tirith. Had the wedding been held at Imladris, you would have been busy making plans, ordering everyone around and generally being unpleasant to any who did not perform their tasks to your exacting standards,” teased Glorfindel lightly, eliciting a half smile from the Advisor that disappeared quickly as his sadness returned.

“Exactly! The very notion that my services are not required here, or for much longer in Imladris has made me realise how little time we have left in Middle-earth. Never before has the fading of the Elves been more apparent to me.”

“You sound as gloomy and depressed as Elrond, albeit he certainly has cause, I will admit. But you are wrong to think that your services to his children are no longer required. Have you forgotten that Elladan and Elrohir have yet to make their choice? Would you deny them the wisdom of your counsel should they desire it?” asked Glorfindel, leaning forward to grasp Erestor’s hands as he spoke.

“Nay. I have not forgotten, nor would I deny them anything in my power to give,” replied the Advisor. “It is just that with every passing day it becomes more apparent that our time here is fading. Soon we will sail for Valinor and on that day my heart will be filled with immense sadness that we leave Arwen and Aragorn behind.”

“As will mine, for both of us love them as if they were our own children. There is no denying that it will be a difficult time for us all, especially Elrond,  but trust me mellon nin, there is so much beauty, joy and fulfilment awaiting in the Blessed Realm that our heartbreak will not linger forever.” Glorfindel’s eyes were alight with his enthusiasm and the high spirited mood of the charming Elf was contagious. Erestor found himself smiling with great affection at his friend.

“Thank you, mellon nin. You are such a comfort and your words have helped ease my anguish. However, I still find myself with nothing to do to pass the time, except read,” he said as he finished his wine.

“You can read anytime. Stop sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself! Don your riding clothes and come with me to the stables,” entreated Glorfindel, pulling Erestor to his feet and playfully pushing him towards his wardrobe.  

“Perhaps I should spend some more time with Elladan and Elrohir,” Erestor replied thoughtfully as he reconsidered his decision and studied his clothes for a moment before selecting a tunic suitable for wearing on a day’s ride. “As you say, no doubt the brethren are in need of our sage advice and our friendly company.”

“Or at the very least, a chance to subject us to their wicked sense of humour,” suggested Glorfindel with no little mirth, causing Erestor to frown with concern as he wondered whether Glorfindel had done something to Elladan and Elrohir that  required an act of revenge on their part. Knowing his friend as he did, Erestor decided that it was highly likely, and was not certain he wished to become involved in a feud, however friendly it may be. Sensing his friend’s wariness, the Balrog slayer grabbed by Erestor by the hand and dragged him from the chamber before the Advisor had a chance to regret his decision.

Chapter 2.  Beware!

“Glorfindel release my hand! I will not be led through the hallways like an errant child!” Erestor demanded as he stood his ground just outside the door to his chamber, forcing the seneschal to stop as well. Glorfindel cast a speculative glance at his friend, and then laughed merrily.

“I find it hard to imagine that you were ever a child, Erestor, let alone an errant one,” he teased.

“Whereas I imagine you were definitely trouble for your parents, just as you are for Elrond and me at times,” retorted Erestor with affection rather than insult in his voice. “But, as you pointed out, we are guests in the King’s house, so please try and comport yourself as befits an Elf of your station,” implored Erestor, using his now free hand to straighten first his robes and then his hair.

“As you wish, but we must make haste to the stables, or you may find your dignity shattered,” warned the Elf lord, his eyes filled with thinly disguised mischief. It was a look the Advisor knew the meaning of, and it did not bode well for whoever Glorfindel had decided to tease.

“What have you done, and to who?” hissed Erestor, now certain the Balrog slayer had been up to no good.

“I admit not to a deed but a poor choice of words spoken in jest, and I will explain as we make our way to the stables,” he replied, ushering Erestor through the archway that opened into the garden where Legolas alone was still working. Sam had decided they needed some assistance and had gone in search of Merry and Pippin.

“I do not believe this is the way to the stables,” stated Erestor, his raised eyebrow demanding an explanation.

“It is best we take a less travelled route, lest our escape be noticed,” whispered Glorfindel with a conspiratorial wink that made Erestor realise he was now embroiled in whatever havoc the seneschal had chosen to cause this day. This was neither the first time, nor likely the last that he would find himself involved in Glorfindel's plans, and the normally aloof Advisor had to admit that he actually enjoyed these brief forays away from proper behaviour. Oft times it was an amusing experience for Glorfindel was, after all, a master at making mischief.

“Escape! We are not captive here, and I refuse to take another step until you explain what you mean!” His raised voice carried across the garden, causing the other occupant to look over in their direction. Erestor’s polite nod of greeting was returned, and since it was not uncommon to see the two Imladris Elves at odds with each other, Legolas turned his attention back to his work. He had promised Galadriel that all the gardens would be restored before the day of the wedding, and he had no desire to disappoint either the Lady or Arwen.

“Very well, if you insist,” conceded Glorfindel with an exaggerated sigh of resignation.

He quickly explained that when he had spoken to Arwen earlier that morning, she had seemed rather upset. Apparently all the servants were so occupied with other tasks, that the seamstress could find no one to model the bridal veil whist she sewed the final pearl drops around the border. It was a task that was likely to take several hours and Glorfindel had politely suggested Arwen should perform the duty herself, but she had replied that Galadriel required her services elsewhere. He had then jokingly suggested that her brothers would make an excellent substitute,  for being the same height, they could take turns acting as models for the seamstress. What he did not realise was that Galadriel had approached from behind and heard his words. She agreed it was an excellent suggestion and promptly sent Arwen to find her brothers.

“Fortunately I found them before Galadriel had a chance to send them to the seamstress, and they insisted I make amends by seeing to their escape,” said Glorfindel as he finished his tale.

“I see, so this is why the sudden interest in exploring the countryside, although the predicament your words placed Elladan and Elrohir in would have been an amusing sight to behold,” Erestor mused with a smile that could only be described as wicked. Both he and Glorfindel laughed at the image of one of the brethren wearing a veil while the seamstress performed her task.

“Aye, but knowing how determined Galadriel can be, and I think it wise that we all make ourselves scarce before she decides one of us would make an acceptable substitute.” No one would refuse a request from Galadriel, and Erestor shuddered at the less than appealing thought of being asked to spend the day in such an undignified manner.

“Then lead the way, mellon nin.” He exclaimed eagerly, but was surprised when Glorfindel made no move other than to allow his brow to furrow with uncertainty as he beckoned for Legolas to join them.

“How can I be of assistance, my lords?” enquired the younger Elf as he wiped the dirt from his hands on a soft cloth he wore on his belt.

“Do you know the path to the stables from here?” asked Glorfindel, who had not bothered to inform Erestor that he did not. The Advisor merely rolled his eyes in mock disgust at Glorfindel’s uncharacteristic lack of forethought.

“Aye, we can make our way there in secret, without passing back through the palace,” Legolas told them. He had not meant to eavesdrop, but had easily heard the conversation between his elders, and did not wish to leave his friends to the mercy of their sister and Grandnana.

“Aye, secrecy is desirable in this instance,” agreed the seneschal with a knowing smile for Thranduil’s son. Apparently the young one had learned much from his astute Adar whom Glorfindel held in high regard.

“As is haste it seems, so perhaps you would be so kind as to show us the way?” requested Erestor.

“Or better yet, I suggest you join us in our escape.” Glorfindel spoke in an urgent whisper as he sensed Arwen approaching the archway, calling to their would-be guide.

“Legolas dear, are you out there?”

Only the echo of her sweet voice answered from the now deserted garden.

Chapter 5.  A Walk in the Woods

The chance to lazily while the rest of the day away in the warmth of Anor’s glow and breathe air filled with the fragrance of the trees and flowers of the forest rather than the musty dankness of stone walls of the city had certainly been accepted with delight, not just by Legolas and the Lothlorien elves, but also those of Imladris. However, the sparkling day promised to turn into a crisp, clear night and to spend an evening under the stars they loved so well was a temptation too great to resist and by mutual consent, the errant Elves decided to remain in the forest overnight. The need for nourishment of some kind was easily fulfilled when the unmistakeable susurration of water flowing over rocks could be heard by all. Desiring a late afternoon swim, Haldir and his patrol eagerly went in search of the stream, promising to return with a few fish for the evening meal.

The Lord of Lothlorien declined the invitation to join his Galadhrim. The voices of the trees deep in the forest beckoned to him, and he was curious to hear their tales.

“Legolas, shall we see what these old trees recall of the years gone by?” he asked the younger elf who was also intrigued by the soft whispers.

“Aye, I would be pleased to join you,” he replied eagerly.

“Perhaps you will even be fortunate enough to find some wild strawberries for dessert,” suggested Elladan hopefully.

“Anything to please my grandsons, who have apparently become children for the moment,” replied Celeborn rolling his eyes in mock exasperation at the eager nods of approval and hungry licking of lips Elladan and Elrohir were displaying at the prospect of their favourite fruit for dessert. The two younger elves exchanged a glance then quickly moved to enfold Celeborn in a combined embrace. Laughing merrily, the elder elf kissed each cheek, and then twisted deftly out of their arms.

“Please see that these young ones behave while we are gone,” he entreated Glorfindel and Erestor who were watching the scene in silent amusement.

“We will do our best, but make no promises,” replied Glorfindel who, like Erestor had seen the hint of mischief in two pairs of grey eyes.

“Enjoy your walk in the woods, we are well experienced in dealing with these two,” added Erestor. More laughter ensued, but it was definitely of a more dangerous kind from Elladan and Elrohir who had decided the seneschal and the advisor had just issued them a challenge. Wishing to take no part in what was to come, Celeborn and Legolas quickly disappeared among the trees, leaving the Imladris elves to whatever fate awaited them.

“It occurs to me that perhaps you would like to hear a tale from the days I spent with Thranduil and Oropher in Doriath whilst we walk?” he enquired of his young companion.

“Aye, my Lord, I would.” Legolas nodded his head in affirmation, his eyes gleaming with inquisitiveness. Thranduil had told many stories of those days, and he delighted in the offer to hear some from Celeborn’s perspective.

“I am kin Legolas, and no matter how distantly we are related, you have the right to call me by my name,” the elder told the younger elf, clasping him affectionately on the shoulder.

“As you wish… Celeborn.” Legolas felt a little uncomfortable using the more familiar form of address, but the brilliant smile of acceptance from the elf lord dispelled any further concern.

They walked in silence for a few moments, simply allowing the serenity of the forest to touch their spirits with the softness of a gentle caress until Celeborn decided which incident he would relate to his young kinsman.

“It is a well known fact that Oropher was not fond of my Galadriel, but do you know why?” he finally asked, choosing to relate the most important incident that he recalled from the past.

“Because she is Noldo and under the shadow of the kinslayers?” Legolas looked slightly embarrassed to speak words that may cause offence and differed so markedly from his own thoughts. “I like her very much and Adar apparently does not hold the same opinion as my Grandada for I have never heard him speak poorly of Lady Galadriel,” he added hastily.

“Nor would I expect him to, he holds a certain fondness for her that is returned in kind and aside from her heritage, their friendship was certainly part of Oropher’s reason for his dislike… especially after a certain incident occurred in Doriath,” said Celeborn, his eyes flashing with anger as he relived that time in his mind.

“Please tell me what happened,” implored Legolas. Celeborn stopped walking and indicated they should rest beneath a large, old oak tree while he told his tale.

“I was not there at the start, but I will recount what Thranduil and Galadriel told me of that fateful day.” There was such sadness and hurt in his voice that Legolas could not help but feel it as well.

“There is no need to speak of something painful,” he said kindly. Celeborn ‘s widened eyes spoke of his surprise that his feelings were so easily seen by one who did not know him well.

“Your sensitivity does you credit Legolas and I thank you for your concern, but this is a story you should hear.”

“As even Master Gimli freely admits, Galadriel is exceedingly beautiful, even for an elf and we were both well aware that she had many admirers from afar among the males in our settlement. Naturally they respected our marriage bond and none dared to more than look on her beauty, however one day a group of elves arrived to join us, one of whom was immediately besotted by my beloved. I was away on a hunting trip at the time, and whether out of  an unusual inability to sense a marriage bond, or because of my absence, this particular elf approached her, requesting that she allow him to escort her to the revelry that evening. Galadriel easily saw his regard for her and his less than honourable intentions and politely informed him that she was awaiting the return of her husband. In a disquieting show of disrespect, this elf persisted in his efforts to gain her attentions, even going so far as to attempt to kiss her cheek. He was both astounded and outraged when his lips met the cold steel of Thranduil’s blade rather than soft skin, but he quickly realised his peril and backed away.”

“Adar is quite skilled with the sword,” commented Legolas with much pride. He knew full well that had the affront come from any being other than an elf, the touch of the sword would have been fatal.

“Indeed he is, and he was being nothing but the good friend he was by defending the honour of my lady in my absence.  All that evening Thranduil sat close by Galadriel, and although she willingly danced with him, she refused all others. The rejected elf apparently tried to ease his hurt and anger with wine, but after drinking too much, he began to become offensive, accusing Thranduil of trying to break our bond and replace my affections in Galadriel’s heart.

“Of course this was not the case but there were murmurs from a few who held little love for Oropher that perhaps there was some truth to it. Your Grandada, who I always held to be overly sensitive to other’s opinions of his House, was enraged by the slight to his son’s reputation and honour and blamed Galadriel for bewitching him in some manner.

“As if speaking to an errant child, he ordered Thranduil to leave the dance square, but being of like temperament to Oropher, your adar despised being spoken to in such a manner and blatantly ignored the command.”

“Did not Grandada punish him for his disobedience?” enquired Legolas who was astonished by Thranduil’s lack of respect for  Oropher in this instance. His own relationship with Thranduil was one of deep love and respect and although they had had their share of disagreements, as was not uncommon for parent and child, he could not imagine ever openly defying his adar in such a manner.

“Indeed he did, but only after they had a terrible argument that lasted well into the early hours of the morning, and ended with a wall of stony silence erected between them that lasted several months according to what your adar told me later, at his wedding, in fact,” he added with a smile. It seemed that not even amongst the trees were they safe from mention of the celebration ahead. Legolas smiled his understanding of the reason for Celeborn’s amusement and waited patiently for the rest of the story.

“ Anyway, to continue… I returned later that day and on hearing of the incident thanked Thranduil for his concern over Galadriel and tried to make peace with Oropher. Unfortunately the small rift that had lain between us already due to, in his opinion, my ‘unsuitable’ choice of wife, did not mend but turned into a bottomless chasm. Oropher announced his decision to leave Doriath to seek a haven as far away from the ‘corrupting Noldo influence’ as he called Galadriel, as possible. Thranduil considered this forced separation from many of his friends, myself and Galadriel included, to be worse than any thing else Oropher could have devised as punishment, and begged him to reconsider,” said Celeborn. “As you are aware, Oropher would not be swayed, and to his credit, Thranduil accepted his role as the self styled King’s son and helped forge the bond between the Sindar and Silvan elves.”

“But what happened to the elf who caused all the trouble?” asked Legolas. Celeborn’s face lit with amusement as he replied.

“It is not wise to incur Galadriel’s fury as he did, and after threatening him at sword point with the loss of more than his already tattered dignity, she banished him from our settlement.” Celeborn’s amused chuckle was unsettling and Legolas felt his brow furrow in confusion.

“Surely she did not intend to kill him?” he asked uncertainly.

“Nay, of course not! You misunderstand. She threatened to remove a certain body part.”

“Ai! Then I hope we have not incurred her wrath,” said Legolas, shivering slightly as he imagined the damage a sword wielded in anger could inflict.

“Nay, we have not, my dear wife realises that she has perhaps encouraged Arwen to be a little over zealous. When I far spoke with her, Galadriel intimated that she understands our need to leave the city, the song of the trees call to her also,” said Celeborn, his eyes shining brightly with the love he held in his heart for his lady.

“Why not ask her to join us now? The wedding is still ten days away, surely she can be spared for a few hours?” suggested Legolas who had found little time to speak with Galadriel, but was eager to do so after hearing of the incident in Doriath.

“Ai, you are not only a heroic warrior, but I suspect you are also a sensitive and romantic lover who will make some lovely young elf maiden very happy one day. Yet I warn you that unless you wed in Ithilien after Galadriel sails West, you will likely find her involved in your wedding preparations when you reach Valinor!” Legolas could not help but laugh at the teasing words spoken with much affection, nor could he prevent himself from blushing furiously. Sensing the younger elf did not feel comfortable continuing this particular discussion, Celeborn changed the subject. “Come, is that not a strawberry patch I see over there?”

Chapter 6.  The Games We Play.

Celeborn had earlier informed Erestor that there were some books in his travel pack which he and Glorfindel were welcome to read if they wished. The advisor selected the smaller of the two, a recount of the last days of Gondolin by an unnamed scribe, and settled in a relaxed pose beneath a tree, with his back leaning against the trunk and his long legs stretched out in front, and began to read. Glorfindel was not interested in the other book of Númenorean poetry, and chose instead to sit close beside Erestor so that he could read over his shoulder, an act which annoyed the advisor immensely.

“Glorfindel, please move, you are casting a shadow on the pages,” he said irritably, closing the book and glaring at his friend.

“As you wish,” replied the seneschal, and quickly moved to Erestor’s other side only to be met with a sigh of exasperation from the advisor.

“Most amusing. Glorfindel,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “I understand that you are naturally interested in a book about your beloved city, but surely it would be more enjoyable if you were to read it on your own. That is certainly my preference.” Erestor’s subtle hint that he required privacy was not lost on Glorfindel but the Balrog slayer remained undeterred.

“Perhaps it will be more enjoyable and, dare I say enlightening, if you were to read it aloud, that way we could both hear the tale and I could correct any misinformation,” he suggested, favouring Erestor with his most disarming smile. “Besides, you know I enjoy listening to you read, your expression gives the words so much more meaning.”  Their friendship was one of long standing and although the advisor was immune to Glorfindel’s wily ways, he nonetheless agreed to the request albeit with an exaggerated air of deference.

“Very well, if I must. It seems that is the only way I will be able to read in peace, and I would certainly be interested in hearing your comments on the authenticity of the writings,” replied Erestor, rolling his eyes in exasperation as he felt a sudden weight on his thighs.

 “Are you quite comfortable, Glorfindel?” he teased, in a tone of voice laced with resigned amusement as he  glanced down into the glittering eyes of  the seneschal who was lying outstretched on the grass, using the advisor’s lap for a pillow. Glorfindel made a great show of wriggling into a more acceptable position, and then folded his hands across his chest as he relaxed.

“I am now, thank you,” he replied politely, favouring Erestor with affectionate regard.

“I will allow you to remain as you are only if you promise to keep still while I read,” warned the advisor trying to sound stern despite the smile of acceptance in his eyes for the familiarity of their seating arrangement. Glorfindel nodded his agreement, eliciting a sigh of annoyance and the touch of a hand on his head to still his movements from Erestor.

“Sorry, mellon nin, it will not happen again,” he quickly apologised.

“Ai, that was the favoured response of those two over there whenever we had cause to bring them to task for misbehaviour,” laughed Erestor as he inclined his head in the young Peredhel’s direction. “Is this promise just as empty?”

“Indeed not, I am an honourable Elf!”  Glorfindel declared, keeping perfectly still despite the friendly provocation.

“That I can not deny, but you are also incorrigible,” teased the advisor.

“Which is one of the many reasons you adore me like a brother,” Glorfindel replied, allowing Erestor to see the deep affection in which he was held.

“Aye, an older brother, a much older brother that is,” agreed the advisor, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Remember, I was not even born when Gondolin fell.”

 “Then ‘little brother’, I believe it is high time you began reading that book, you still have much to learn!” Glorfindel replied, adopting the fanciful role with much enthusiasm.

With a playful ruffle of the golden hair on the head resting in his lap, Erestor nodded his agreement. He opened the book and began reading aloud.

The familiar sound of the advisor’s melodious voice drifted across the glade, drawing Elladan’s attention away from the clouds he and Elrohir were watching as they lay side by side in the grass.

 “Elladan, does the shape of that cloud remind you of anything?” Elrohir asked innocently, turning his gaze away from the cloud above to face his brother.

“I am sorry, did you say something Elrohir?” Elladan enquired, realising after a few moments that Elrohir had spoken.

“Where have you been, Elladan? I asked if that cloud reminded you of anything,” repeated Elrohir as he reached over and turned Elladan’s chin upwards so that he was again looking at the sky.

“I know that Glorfindel and Erestor have been friends forever, but look at them. I did not realise how close they really are,” he said in answer to the first question. Elrohir looked over at the two who were thoroughly engrossed in the book.

“I have seen them thus many a time when I have gone to the gardens to read, as would have you did you not spend all your free time on the training grounds,” Elrohir replied dismissing the scene with a disinterested shrug. “I am more eager to learn what it is that cloud reminds you of.”

“Nothing immediately springs to mind,” replied Elladan, shaking his head free of Elrohir’s grip.

“Not one of Adar’s chess pieces, perhaps from the set we once attempted to make as a begetting day gift?” Elrohir suggested with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“I suppose it looks a little like one of the pawns,” his brother answered slowly, trying to fathom Elrohir’s thinking. “Why do you ask?”

“Glorfindel is the one who put that strange notion about us and the bridal veil into Arwen’s head, and he and Erestor as good as challenged us to make a little mischief if we dare. I believe we should accept.” Elrohir explained.

“To be fair, Glorfindel did not expect Arwen to take him seriously, and he did help us to elude her, but as for the challenge, I suppose we must find something to keep ourselves amused until the others return,” Elladan agreed.

“What better way to spend the afternoon than with an innocent game of chess, once we have made the pieces, of course?” Elrohir asked nonchalantly as if the idea had just occurred to him, rather than being well considered.

“Elrohir, we spent two whole days carving those pieces for Adar, and our attempt to colour one set black with blackberry juice was a disaster. We applied too much juice and the pieces did not dry in time for Adar’s begetting day.”

“I know, and we dared not give them to him in case the juice stained his hands as it did ours. It is really quite amusing when I think back on the incident. It took a week to wash the stains from our hands, and I am certain Nana wondered why we decided to wear our robes rather than tunics during that time.” Elrohir laughed merrily at his memories of  their younger days.

 “We were fortunate that she regarded it as just a stage we were going through on the road to maturity  rather than a means to hide our hands in the long sleeves,” replied Elladan joining in the laughter.

 “However, we were only thirty then and over the years we have learned enough about herb lore to avoid making the same mistake, if you understand my meaning,” Elrohir explained raising an eyebrow in query in the manner often displayed by Elrond.

“Aye brother, ‘tis an excellent idea. We both know Glorfindel always chooses black, and neither he nor Erestor can resist ‘aiding’ us when we play, especially if we seem to be ill tempered towards each other as the game progresses. I believe I saw a blackberry patch near where we left the horses to graze, shall we go?” Elladan asked as he stood and offered Elrohir his hand. With a friendly wave to Glorfindel and Erestor, the brethren left the glade.

“I wonder where they are going?” Erestor mused, momentarily putting the book aside.

“No doubt we will find out soon enough, surely you realise this peaceful interlude is only the calm before the storm,” replied Glorfindel light-heartedly.

“Aye, but even with Lothlorien and Mirkwood here as protection, neither Elladan nor Elrohir will dare to cross us too severely. They fear our retribution much more than we fear their pranks,” Erestor chuckled, coughing slightly as the words caught in his dry throat.

 “How thoughtless of me to keep you talking when you must be thirsty after reading aloud for so long. Would you care for some wine?” Glorfindel’s concern was obvious and Erestor gratefully accepted the offer. “Perhaps you should rest your voice and allow me to continue,” he suggested.

“By all means, please do,” Erestor agreed, smiling as Glorfindel patted his lap indicating he expected the advisor to relax as he had. “You have made no comments regarding the authenticity of the report as yet. Am I to assume the information is reasonably accurate?” Erestor enquired as he settled himself comfortably as the seneschal had done earlier.

“It is, and I must remember to ask Celeborn if he knows the identity of the author,” replied Glorfindel as he put his wine aside and turned to the page that Erestor had marked, and continued reading.

                                                    *************

Elladan and Elrohir collected several small branches that were suitable for carving as well as a few succulent leaves from a plant that released an oily substance when crushed. This could be used as protection for their hands and when coated with it the blackberry juice would not stain their skin. After centuries of practice and several hours of silent concentration, they were pleased to have produced a crude, but useable set of chess pieces.

“The blackberry patch is laden with fruit,” commented Elladan as they crushed the leaves and applied the oil to their hands.

“Aye and we must be certain to use enough of the juice to completely soak the wood,” Elrohir reminded his brother. Identical faces lit with the same wicked grin as they set about first picking the ripest berries and then, carefully avoiding applying too much pressure to prevent the juice from spurting out of the skin, they crushed them in the mug Elrohir had brought for that purpose. Once they had sufficient coloured liquid, they applied several coats to the pieces that were to be black until finally the juice was no longer absorbed and dripped freely from the saturated wood.

“What will we use for a board?” asked Elladan, suddenly realising they were missing the most important part of the game. They both thought for a moment, before inspiration struck.

“The cloth the cheese is wrapped in could easily be marked into squares,” said Elrohir grinning with delight at his own cleverness.

“An excellent idea but let us hurry back before the wood dries. I would be most disappointed were our efforts proved to be for naught,” said Elladan as he carefully applied more of the oil to his hands before picking up the chess pieces.

Their return to the glade was noted with mild interest by their elders who were somewhat surprised to see the brothers begin playing chess with their makeshift pieces. As the game progressed, it appeared that the usual bickering was also in play. As Elladan had predicted, it did not take long before they were joined by Erestor and Glorfindel.

“Elladan, that piece can not make that move!” exclaimed Elrohir with exaggerated anger when his brother made a deliberate error.

“You are the one who is mistaken Elrohir, not I,” retorted Elladan. “Is that not so, Glorfindel?” he asked the seneschal.

“You two have been very creative, but it is a shame to spoil your friendly endeavour with a squabble,” said Glorfindel as he examined one of the uncoloured pieces. “I am afraid Elrohir is correct in this case, but if I were you, this would be the next move I would make,” he said as he whispered something into Elladan’s ear.

“You can only do as Glorfindel suggests if Erestor agrees to advise me!” Elrohir declared with seeming outrage.

“As you wish,” the advisor acquiesced. He drew Elrohir aside for a private discussion of tactics after Glorfindel had made his move and soon all four became engrossed in the strategic battle on the cheesecloth. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged relieved grins every time Glorfindel picked up one of the black pieces and failed to notice the black stains on his fingers.

“Ai, checkmate, Erestor and Elrohir!” Glorfindel declared, clapping his hands together triumphantly as Elladan made the winning move. The dark stains on Glorfindel’s skin were now very obvious and Elladan and Elrohir burst into laughter as they saw how successful their little prank had been.

“Glorfindel, what is this?” asked Erestor as he reached for one of the seneschal’s elegant hands and turned it palm upwards.

“Just a little colour from the chess pieces, I suspect,” replied Glorfindel as he unsuccessfully attempted to wipe the juice stains from his skin with the corner of the cheesecloth.

“Try wiping your hands clean on the grass,” suggested Erestor, noting that his fingertips were also stained, although not as badly as Glorfindel’s. The hearty laughter from their young companions was more than enough answer as to why even the damp grass failed to have the desired result.

“I see we have been bested by our foe, my dear advisor,” said Glorfindel as he glared at Elladan and Elrohir who were laughing so hard there were tears in their eyes. “I trust you have something which will remove this… ?”

“Blackberry juice,” supplied Elladan helpfully.

“… blackberry juice from our hands?” he asked with an icy voice that suggested they had better have such a concoction.

“None that we know of, it took over a week for us to remove it from our hands the time we found ourselves in the same predicament. Perhaps Adar can suggest something,” replied Elrohir, judging that a little less mirth was in order, for Glorfindel was extremely angry.

“You would be wise to hope he has, for both Glorfindel and I are required to attend several functions in the coming days, and I am certain the Lady Galadriel will not be impressed with our undignified appearance, nor with those who she will undoubtedly be aware are responsible for it,” warned Erestor, satisfied when the brothers’ faces showed sufficient remorse and more than a little anguish at the unwelcome prospect of earning their Grandnana’s displeasure.

“We will go and fetch some water, and some more of the leaves we used to protect our hands, perhaps if we act quickly the stain will be easily removed,” suggested Elladan.

“Hurry along, then,” ordered Erestor who, Glorfindel alone could see, was trying to keep a smirk from his face. Once the troublemakers were out of sight, the advisor laughed openly.

“Am I to understand from your merriment that you already know of a potion that will remove these unsightly stains?” the seneschal enquired already guessing the answer.

“Aye, but I suggest we keep the knowledge to ourselves until we return to the city,” Erestor replied. Glorfindel nodded his agreement and the two were still chuckling with mirth as they sat down to paly another game of chess.

Chapter 8.  Elder Elves

As lovely as the warm, sunny day had been, there was no denying that the evening was indeed far more beautiful. Ithil shone full and bright in the black night sky, lighting the path to the glade with a soft glow and casting ghostly shadows in the dark places between the trees. Not wishing to disturb the tranquillity that had descended with the fading of the day, the three elder Eves made their way silently through the woods savouring the cool sweetness of the fresh air exhaled by the trees.

“On nights such as this I can understand why you and Thranduil wish to remain in your forests rather than sail West with us,” commented Erestor, exchanging a private smile with Glorfindel as they noted the rapture on Celeborn’s face as he communed wordlessly with the living forces that came alive at night.

“Ai, but until you have seen the stars glittering above the shores of the Blessed Realm, you have not seen true beauty,” Glorfindel said wistfully as he recalled the sight he had seen so often so many centuries ago.

“That may be so, but as Legolas so wisely pointed out to me earlier when he informed me he was not ready to leave Middle-earth just yet, Valinor will still be there when he finally sails,” Celeborn replied, also sounding somewhat melancholy.

After they had collected sufficient wild strawberries for all to enjoy, he and his young kinsman had wandered among the tress, speaking of many things, but mostly the fading of the Elves. Legolas knew that Thranduil had no desire to leave his woodland realm as yet, but was a little surprised to learn that Celeborn felt the same desire to remain. However, his understood more clearly after their discussion had turned to his plans to set up a colony in Ithilien. Celeborn had spoken with as much enthusiasm for the venture as Legolas felt, offering the younger Wood Elf advice or any other assistance that might be required. Both Elves had been quite taken aback when they sensed the delight of the ancient trees, and the songs of joy of the softly rustling leaves sang on hearing that the light of the Firstborn would soon be gracing the forests of Ithilien once more.

“Does he not hear the call of the sea, does he not yearn to sail?” Glorfindel asked, fully aware of the younger Elf’s plight. Over the years he had seen many kindred who were unable to resist the siren song depart for the Havens.

“Aye, the Blessed Realm calls to him, yet some ties are not so easily broken and his heart speaks with a stronger voice. For the love of his mortal friend he will remain until the day Aragorn draws his last breath,” the elf lord said with immense sadness at the thought of what the future held in store for Aragorn and Arwen as well as the grief that awaited Legolas.

“Much sorrow lies ahead for us all,” commented Erestor as he recalled his own feelings of despair that had all but disappeared as the day progressed. Aware of the advisor’s distress, Glorfindel placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder and was rewarded with an appreciative smile.

“I assume Glorfindel will return to Valinor when Elrond sails?”  Enquired Celeborn. The Balrog slayer nodded his affirmation. “Will you also go with them, Erestor?”

“Of course, as difficult as the task is, someone must see that Glorfindel’s mischievous ways do not land him in trouble, especially with the Valar,” declared the advisor with an exaggerated sigh of resignation at the burden he was required to bear as the seneschal’s friend.

“Me? In trouble? I hardly think so, my dear Erestor,” replied Glorfindel, feigning insult even as his eyes sparkled with affection.

“I fear you have already failed in your charge, Erestor,” commented Celeborn as he took one of Glorfindel’s hands and held it palm upward in the moonlight so that the dark stains were clearly visible. “It seems you did not manage to keep him away from the mischief made by my grandsons.”

“Nay he did not, nor was he immune to their little prank,” Glorfindel told Celeborn who shook his head with mock disappointment when he saw similar discolouration on the advisor’s hands.

“Speaking of impudent young Elves, I suggest we collect the remainder of the food and wine and return to the others before they decide to enjoy our share of the evening meal,” suggested Erestor, deftly changing the slightly embarrassing subject. Although he teased Glorfindel in regard to his vanity, the Noldo was of a similar disposition as the seneschal when it came to his own appearance and could hardly wait to make use of special powder he had invented to remove ink stains, certain it would do as well on blackberry juice.

“A very wise suggestion,” agreed Celeborn as he walked over to where the packs containing the cheese and rolls were to be found, continuing his inquisition as he shook the grass from the makeshift chess board and wrapped the cheese in it.  “Tell me, how did they manage to achieve their success?”

Erestor watched in alarm as the Lord of Lothlorien reached to pick up one of the black chess pieces. Although the juice had dried somewhat, the wood was still damp and he was about to call out and warn Celeborn not to handle it when he felt a warm hand cover his mouth, muffling his words. Unable to free his moth from the determined grip, he turned his head far enough to glare angrily at Glorfindel, who wore cheeky grin and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Hush Erestor, this is likely to be most amusing, do you not agree?” he whispered into the advisor’s ear. The seneschal obviously intended for their companion to share their fate, and after a brief moment of indecision, Erestor recalled that he enjoyed being just a tiny bit wicked. He nodded his agreement and felt the hand fall away from his mouth.

“Who made these?” enquired Celeborn as he turned the rudimentary king around in his hand before picking up the black queen. “Never mind, I can guess. Elladan and Elrohir,” he said with more than a little sarcasm as he studied his slightly stained fingers. He glared accusingly at his companions who were both trying to look innocent whilst containing their mirth.

“Celeborn, beware of the chess pieces, they are rather wet,” Erestor managed to say before bursting into laughter.

“I do apologise, Celeborn. It seems my friend’s warning came too late,” Glorfindel chuckled as he walked over to the irate elf lord and vainly attempted to wipe the dark patches from his fingers with a small cloth.

“You two are even worse than my grandsons! There is no excuse for such childish behaviour from Elves of your apparently questionable wisdom and maturity,” he declared. Although there was genuine ire in his voice, his eyes glittered with amusement.

“Fear not, Erestor assures me he can remove the stains, once we return to Minas Tirith, that is,” said Glorfindel with the utmost confidence in Erestor’s word. Celeborn definitely looked relieved to hear that information, but was obviously unwilling to risk any further damage and carefully wrapped the other pieces in the cloth.

 “But we have not informed Elladan and Elrohir of that fact, nor do we wish to for the moment, if you understand my meaning,” Erestor informed Celeborn with an almost evil smirk that the Lord of Lothlorien imitated in reply.

“I see. Then they will not hear such from me,” he said with a nod of agreement, willing to participate in some harmless teasing of his grandsons.

Carrying a pack each, the three elder elves were about to leave the glade when an eerie silence befell the surrounding forest, and their keen senses alerted them to someone approaching. Glorfindel and Erestor drew their weapons and took a protective stance on either side of an unarmed Celeborn who had left his sword back at the swimming hole not expecting to encounter any danger in the short while they had planned to be away from the others.

“Put away your weapons. Surely there is no need to fear an old man?” The warriors relaxed at the sound of the well known voice, and smiled warmly at Mithrandir as he entered the glade.

“Well met, Mithrandir,” said Celeborn as he moved forward to clasp the Istar’s hand in greeting. “What brings you so far from the city in the darkness of night?”

“A little bird told me of the return of Elves to the forest and expecting nothing less than an evening of merrymaking, I sought to join my friends,” he replied.

“The little bird’s name did not happen to be Galadriel, by any chance?” queried Celeborn, eliciting a chuckle of mirth from the wizard.

“Nay, although she did ask me to remind all three of you that you are expected at a private midday meal with the King tomorrow,” he said.

“I had not forgotten, and we fully intended to return on the morrow,” Erestor said.

“Not before you apply some of this to your unbecomingly coloured hands.” Mithrandir produced a small pouch that Erestor immediately recognised as the one containing his ink removing powder. Had anyone other than the Istar brought the much needed remedy, the three Elves would have been astonished by his action, but they were well accustomed to Mithrandir and his unfathomable ways, and simply accepted his foresight.

“Come, shall we join the young ones? I am quite hungry and I would dearly love to quench my thirst with a drop of that excellent wine you have with you, Celeborn.” Mithrandir said, unerringly leading the three bemused Elves to the swimming hole.

Chapter 9.  Tall Tales and Truth.

“What was that about Glorfindel’s hands?” asked Haldir curiously as he settled cross legged on the grass next to Legolas who, like the others had listened with much amusement, and a certain amount of awe for the tale the brethren  told of their latest adventure. Haldir had been busy preparing the fish and had not paid much heed to the story, but when it was again briefly recounted, and knowing both the victims and the perpetrators well, he wondered just how true it was.

 “Did you not notice the dark stains he bore, Haldir?” enquired Legolas who had asked his friends the same question.

“Nay. Did any of you?” the march warden enquired of the members of his patrol, none of whom had been seated close enough to the two lords to notice such a detail as the colour of their hands. Everyone shook their heads in denial, and Haldir turned back to face Elladan and Elrohir, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “If this is an attempt at a jest at our expense, it is a very poor one. Despite your mischievous temperaments, I find it difficult to credit that either of you are so foolish, or possess enough daring, to play such a prank on a warrior as well respected and formidable as the Balrog slayer.”

“Not to mention Lord Erestor, whose cutting tongue is reputed to be equally dangerous,” added Legolas who sounded as if he was also beginning to doubt what he had seen. Perhaps it had simply been a deceptive effect of the lengthening shadows.

“It will be an easy matter to prove when they return, for the evidence will be there for all to see,” Elrohir stated with obvious disappointment that the tale of their misdeeds had not been received with the acclaim he felt he and Elladan deserved. Haldir and Legolas had been correct; it took more than a little daring to attack the Captain of the guard and the Chief Advisor of Imladris, even in jest.

Unfortunately for the brethren, their loud voices carried well into the forest and had it not been so, their prank would have been acknowledged without question when the others returned. As it was, the elder Elves were forewarned of the disbelief uttered by Haldir, and were pleased to take advantage of the information.

“Eavesdropping is a rather undignified pastime for Elves of your stature is it not?” asked Mithrandir, who had decided to take a moment to enjoy his pipe while the three elder Elves had stopped to listen.

“We are not eavesdropping, we are observing the enemy,” replied Celeborn with as much dignity as he could muster despite the amused smiles from his companions.

It was apparent that Haldir and Legolas were not convinced they were hearing the truth, and Glorfindel quickly formulated a plan to turn the tables on Elladan and Elrohir to which the other two readily agreed. Mithrandir watched them set the plan in motion, chuckling merrily at the strange effect a day in the forest was having on all the Elves. Not since he left Valinor had he seen such light-hearted antics from the Firstborn, and he rejoiced at the return of their ability to display their carefree spirits. 

“Call it what you will, but you are still behaving like children,” he stated, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Unless you are so merry because you have managed to empty the wineskins as we walked?”

“We have not! We may be acting somewhat inappropriately, but we have not lost our wits to the wine!” Celeborn exclaimed shaking the three partially full wineskins he was carrying in front of Mithrandir’s eyes to prove his point.

“Not even brave Glorfindel would dare drink your share of the wine,” Erestor added, not in the least deterred from jesting by the raised eyebrow of the Istar or the amused look on the seneschal’s face at the slightly backward compliment.

“Besides, compared to you my dear Mithrandir, we *are* but children, and our foe are barely more than babes, so the attack must be mounted at their level,” declared Glorfindel in his best ‘Captain of the guard’ voice, which elicited a burst of laughter from his two disrespectful warriors and the highly amused wizard.

They were all still smiling when they reached the swimming hole, nonchalantly taking seats on one side of the campfire and pretending not to notice the very pointed glances at their hands.

“Here let me take that for you, Lord Glorfindel,” offered Elladan solicitously as he reached for the seneschal’s pack, Elrohir doing likewise for Erestor. Both pairs of eyes widened in disbelief when they saw not berry stains, but the usual pristine state of the elegant hands of their elders.

“I see nothing amiss,” said Haldir as he reached past Elladan and took hold of Glorfindel’s hand, turning it so that all could see the exposed palm. The seneschal smiled wickedly and then lifted the march warden’s hand to his lips, kissing the fingers ever so gently, causing a very embarrassed Haldir to immediately pull his hand away. Celeborn was unable to prevent a snort of amusement at such an unseemly display, but decided his march warden had only been treated as he deserved.

“If you will pardon the familiarity, Lord Erestor,” apologised Legolas, respectfully waiting for a nod of approval from his elder before he quickly studied the advisor’s hand, on the pale skin of which he was unable to find even the hint of a juice stain.

“What is the meaning of this scrutiny?” asked Erestor when Legolas released his hand. Although the advisor knew the answer full well, and was smiling inwardly, to outward appearances his eyes glittered with anger and insult.

“It seems we have been treated to nothing but a tall tale from the young Peredhel,” Haldir explained, quickly recounting the details as he had heard them all the while glaring at Elladan and Elrohir who were furious at being bested by their elders. Neither knew how the stains had been removed, but both they and Glorfindel and Erestor were well aware of what had been done.

“This is a little concoction of mine, that fortunately for you both removes stubborn stains such as ink and blackberry juice from the skin,” explained the advisor as he produced the small pouch of powder.

“A fact to which I can also attest,” added Celeborn. The meaning of his words was not lost on any present, and he graciously assumed the resultant snickering was at his grandson’s expense and not because he had also been caught in their little trap. Elladan’s and Elrohir’s cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment when they realised this, well aware of the inadvisability of incurring Celeborn’s wrath and immediately offered their apologies to their Grandada.

“I believe you owe your lords the same courtesy,” Celeborn told his grandsons.

“‘Tis not necessary, I think it best if we simply declare the match a tie,” Erestor conceded diplomatically, although only a sharp poke in Glorfindel’s ribs earned his reluctant agreement.

“So you were telling the truth. You have my apologies for doubting your word,” Legolas told his friends.

“You are forgiven, Haldir can be very persuasive when he chooses,” Elladan acknowledged as he accepted the apology with a playful clap on the Wood Elf’s back.

“It is the eyesight of an archer as skilled as you that you should not have doubted, mellon nin,” said Elrohir. Legolas smiled at the compliment and offered his friend a warrior’s handclasp.

“And we shall drink a toast to the brave, but foolhardy young Peredhel,” Haldir exclaimed as he placed a friendly arm about each of their shoulders in a show of his genuine affection for his lord’s kin.

“Indeed, I should say it is well past time the wine flowed, and is that fresh fish I see roasting in the coals?” enquired the ever practical, and apparently hungry, Mithrandir.

“Aye, and the wild strawberries Legolas and I collected for our dessert are also a favourite of yours, are they not?” Celeborn asked as he handed the Istar his first goblet of wine.

Soon all were seated around the campfire, enjoying the delicious repast and the astounding and usually humorous tales that Mithrandir was all too willing to tell.

“I wonder that you did not ask Adar to join us tonight, Mithrandir,” commented Elladan after he had had his fill of the fresh strawberries and had stretched out in the grass beside his brother.

 “A relaxing evening such as this would have served him well,” observed Erestor with concern in his eyes for his friend.

“I agree. I did ask, but he and Prince Imrahil had already made plans to spend the evening discussing the history book the Prince had brought from the library at Dol Amroth.” Mithrandir explained.

“Then your plan was thwarted from the beginning, for I am sure Elrond is enjoying himself immensely,” said Glorfindel with relief that the lore master was not spending the evening alone with his sad thoughts.

“And what of our dear sister? Is she still angry with us for escaping her clutches?” asked Elrohir who was feeling a little guilty for avoiding Arwen.

“Nay, Elrond has spoken on your behalf, and has elicited an agreement from Arwen not to insist any of her kin or her guests assist with the preparations. Unless they wish to, of course.”

“Thank the Valar for Adar,” said Elladan, with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“It seems you are also relieved of the need to explain our absence to Arwen,” Glorfindel said to Erestor, reminding him of their wager.

“Nonetheless, I will make our peace with her when we return,” replied the advisor, who like the others was very fond of Elrond’s lovely daughter.

“It may also interest you to know,” continued the Istar, “that, according to Galadriel, it appears Lindir’s fondness for the seamstress is returned, but both are far too shy to approach each other. In her desire to share her happiness at being in love, as well as partake in a little matchmaking, Arwen invited the couple to dine with Aragorn, Galadriel and herself this evening.”

Mithrandir laughed heartily at the undisguised looks of alarm from the Elves as the thought of soon being 'guests' at another wedding crossed their minds.

Chapter 10.  The Return of the Elves.

As the first rays of the morning sun warmed the white stone of the city, the streets were already bustling with market vendors setting up their stalls for the day.  Many of the womenfolk were about as well, tending to their domestic chores, as the wet laundry or dusty rugs that hung from windows and lines strung between the buildings indicated. Thanks to the sacrifice of so many, this promised to be another day of blissfully peaceful existence filled with excited anticipation for the approaching royal wedding. However, this soon turned into a morning like no other, for word of the return of three of the Elves had passed rapidly through streets that were now crowded with those eager to catch a glimpse of the elusive beings.

To the eyes of the mortals, the ethereal radiance of inner light shone from faces almost too beautiful to bear, even as the glittering sunlight danced on hair of three different hues. Although age had not marred their features, these three were ancient and powerful beings and it was apparent to all that they possessed an air of mystery and a regal presence. Celeborn, Glorfindel and Erestor were well aware of the awe inspiring vision they presented but treated the situation with amused tolerance as they rode in silence towards the King’s stables. When heads were bowed with respect as the elder Elves passed, they politely acknowledged in kind, the smiles in their bright eyes speaking to all of their warm and gentle hearts.

The whispered sighs of wistful longing for the unattainable also reached ears not meant to hear, and many a heart fluttered wildly when Glorfindel responded to Erestor’s rolled eyes, and sigh of exasperation with a brilliant smile. A smile that turned into merry laughter when he heard Celeborn confide in the advisor that the seneschal mistakenly believed he was the only one the maidens desired.

The welcome they received upon reaching the palace, however, was slightly less adoring.

“Galadriel and I were wondering whether we would be graced by your company today, my lords,” said Elrond who had seen the riders approach from his balcony where he was sharing an early breakfast with the Lady, and had come to meet them.

“Ai, then I must hasten to her side and calm her fears,” said Celeborn, feigning apprehension and fooling no-one as he bowed to his friends as he took his leave. His eagerness to go to his beloved wife had nothing to do with avoiding her displeasure, and everything to do with his constant delight in her presence and the sweet taste of her lips.

“If not her ire,” Glorfindel whispered in an aside to Erestor, who nodded his agreement. They both knew Galadriel was as formidable when she was angry as she was beautiful to behold. Elrond also heard the remark and laughed softly for he could not dispute its accuracy.

“I admit she was not in a particularly good humour yesterday, but neither was Arwen, thanks to the sudden disappearance of most of the Elves,” he commented.

“My dear Elrond, do I detect regret on your part for declining Mithrandir’s invitation to join us?” Glorfindel asked in a tone of voice that was light and teasing. He decided to speak before Erestor could apologise for their absence, for as far as Glorfindel was concerned they had done nothing wrong.  “As I explained to Erestor yesterday, a book can be read any time and surely in the course of our sojourn here there will be many other opportunities to discuss history with Prince Imrahil, will there not?”

“Aye,” Elrond agreed with a nod and a pointed glance at Erestor whose almost mischievous demeanour had caught his attention. “I am surprised you allowed Glorfindel’s silver tongue to persuade you to escape the confines of your chamber. Nonetheless I am pleased to see you looking much more cheerful and relaxed than you have since we arrived in the city. I was beginning to worry about you, mellon nin.” Erestor smiled at the irony of Elrond’s concern which reflected his own and Glorfindel’s for their lord, but he decided not to comment for Elrond was also in a much better mood than he had been for too many days to count.

“Indeed it has been most enjoyable if not rare experience for Eryn Lasgalen, Imladris and Lothlorien to come together for something other than discussions of border patrols, orc attacks and the like,” Erestor told him.

“Not to mention a little mischief making as well,” added Glorfindel, hinting that he had a tale to tell as they made their way from the stables back into the garden that Sam, Merry and Pippin had finished working on in Legolas’s absence.

“What did they do this time?” Elrond could not hide the smile of amusement as he referred to his sons. Glorfindel was about to reply when Arwen called to them from the archway.

“Good morning, my lords, I am pleased to see you back in Minas Tirith,” she said sweetly as she walked up to them and placed a kiss on each of their cheeks. “Are my brothers and Legolas not with you?”

“Nay, they will return later today," Erestor told her. “Haldir assures us he will see that they do,” he added when he saw Arwen and Elrond exchanged a sceptical glance.

“At least there is one responsible Elf amongst you,” Elrond commented dryly. Like Erestor and Glorfindel, he held the march warden in high regard, and respected his devotion to both his duty and his Lord and Lady.

“Speaking of responsible Elves, I hear Lindir was very helpful. Did he allow the seamstress to finish her sewing?” asked Glorfindel innocently, earning himself a playful slap on the arm from Arwen.

“Indeed he was, but how am I to accomplish all that still needs to be done if you insist on depriving me of assistants?” There was a hint of reproach in Arwen’s voice that made Erestor feel a little guilty for his part in the previous day’s events. Glorfindel saw the slight frown, and with a barely perceptible of his head, indicated he understood his friend wished to make his peace with Arwen.

“Ai, speaking of assistants reminds me that Lindir mentioned he has a surprise, and asked me to invite all the Elves to gather in the garden after the evening meal to hear what he has to say.” Arwen told her elders.

“Another wedding announcement perhaps?” Elrond suggested.

“I do not know, Adar, he did not confide in me further, though it would be delightful if it was,” she replied smiling happily at the thought.

“I will personally see that your brothers, Legolas and the Galadhrim attend,” promised Glorfindel with a bow, knowing how alarming the prospect of another such occasion had seemed to the young ones. “But for now, I believe a nice warm bath beckons. Walk with me, Elrond and I will speak to you of our day in the woods,” he said, deliberately leaving Arwen and Erestor alone.

“I hope you do not think poorly of Glorfindel and me for depriving you f our assistance and that of your brothers yesterday,” he said apologetically

“And Legolas as well," she teased. Erestor smiled and nodded. “Nay, it would be most unfair to be annoyed with my two favourite lords when Grandada did likewise with his warriors,” she said, taking Erestor’s arm as they walked around the garden. “Besides, I can not have us at odds when there is something important I would ask you to do for me.” A surprised Erestor turned to face his lovely companion.

“I would be only too pleased to assist with your wedding, even in a small way. How can I help?”  Erestor asked, unable to hide the hurt that could be easily seen in his eyes as he recalled his feeling of uselessness. Arwen was not insensitive to his plight and squeezed his arm gently.

“I now that were we at Imladris the preparations for such an occasion would be handled by you and your staff, and even here I could have wished it was so,” she admitted with a small sigh.

“Nay, as Glorfindel rightly pointed out, this is a city of Men, and we Elves are simply here as family and friends of the bride,” he said.

“Aye, and as you are undoubtedly aware, official records must be made of the King’s wedding, and Faramir has already been assigned this task. However, Aragorn and I wish a more personal account to be written, one we plan to read to our children and in turn, they to their children, for generations to come. No one, not even Adar, is as gifted with the written word as you, dear Erestor, nor is anyone more observant of the smallest details of everything that transpires.  Will you not write it for us?” Erestor was speechless for a moment as he gazed into the imploring eyes and was forced to clear the lump from his throat before he replied. “There is none other than you who I would ask this of,” she added, reaching up to gently touch his cheek in a simple gesture of affection that she had often used as a child.

“I imagine that you and Aragorn, not to mention Elrond, will be far too busy celebrating to remember the day in much detail.”  Arwen’s cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink at these words, and the wicked gleam in Erestor’s eyes.

“Then you will do it?”

 “Aye, it will be both my honour and my pleasure to do as you ask, my sweet Undomiel,” he managed to whisper before two delicate arms hugged him fiercely around the neck.

“Oh, thank you so much! I must go and tell Aragorn,” she said with delight in her voice after she released Erestor from the brief embrace. Still arm in arm, they walked through the archway that lead inside, and with an exchange of affectionate smiles, parted to go their separate ways.

                                                            **********

It was not until Anor had almost disappeared below the horizon that the younger Elves returned from their wanderings. Whereas their elders had ridden with stately elegance, Elladan and Elrohir, and the young Galadhrim in Haldir’s charge relished the attention of the citizens who again lined the streets to welcome them back. Haldir, Legolas and Mithrandir rode slightly ahead of the others, not wishing to participate in the exuberant and, to the minds of the two Elves, but not the highly amused Istar, unseemly behaviour of their companions who waved and laughed merrily at the crowds, and caused squeals of delight from the maids they blew kisses to as they passed.

On their arrival at the stables, they were reminded by a messenger from Galadriel that all were required to attend the evening meal that was to begin an hour after sunset, and the group quickly dispersed to their respective chambers to bathe and dress appropriately.

The meal was a lively affair, and the evening passed quickly in an atmosphere of merry laughter and joyful talk full of friendly jests and teasing about the great escape. Arwen bestowed affectionate kisses on Glorfindel’s and Erestor’s cheeks, then danced gaily with Celeborn, Legolas and each of her brothers in turn, showing she harboured no ill feelings towards anyone.

When Lindir and his musicians finished playing and moved outside, Glorfindel had no trouble keeping his promise to Arwen, for the warm night and the brilliantly shining stars were more than enough reason for the Elves to continue their revelry in the sweetly scented air of the gardens.  Several wineskins were handed around so that goblets rarely remained empty for long, and the musicians were easily persuaded to take up their instruments and provide accompaniment for the soft, melodious voices that rose in song. They sung not only of praise for the beauty of the stars and all Ilúvatar’s creations, but several were of the more rowdy and ‘colourful’ tunes Elladan and Elrohir had learned in the taverns of Minas Tirith that they had visited with the hobbits and the King’s guard.

Glorfindel then treated his appreciative audience to one of his favoured melodies from Gondolin, after which Lindir requested everyone’s attention.

“I know many of you are expecting a betrothal announcement, but I am sorry to disappoint you, we are not yet ready to take that step,” he said with a quick glance at his lady and a stern glare at Elladan, Elrohir and several of the Galadhrim who breathed unmistakeable sighs of relief. “The reason we are gathered here tonight is because I have written several songs recently, all of which are to be sung at the royal wedding, except for the one I wish to share tonight.” He looked over to where Glorfindel was now seated with the musicians, his harp resting in his lap, and gave the signal for the music to begin.

Possessing one of the sweetest voices of all the Firstborn, and mesmerising his audience with an enchanting melody that wove vivid images in the listeners’ minds with every note, Lindir sang a tribute to the heroic Elf named Legolas.